Butterflies Volume II

Season 3

Violet sat with glazed eyes. There had not been one moment in the last 24 hours in which she felt warm, like suddenly she was locked in a bed of ice. She shivered every few minutes, swallowing against her dry throat. There was a small TV in the corner of Billy's sectioned off chunk of the hospital ward. Neither of them said much as Billy went for several tests, words lost all meaning. They were merely what you cringe to, because no matter what Violet thought of, it all sounded too put together. So instead she sat stiffly in the chair adjacent to Billy's bed.

What made matters worse was seeing him in the gown. He'd never been more vulnerable, but was so out of place against the pale blue. She thought back to the facility, to the lab... And now it was as though she was watching him go through it like she did. Violet shivered again, her neck jolting and making her wince. Her knee bobbed, trying to stay present but as he just sat, all that was left was the horrendous memorial for Maeve on the television. She saved them both, and still was being subjected to Vought. Was there any escaping them? It was terribly difficult to hold back tears, all Violet wanted to do was sob.

Billy traced the necklace Becca gave him with his fingers, in his own world. They were only a metre apart, probably less, and yet Violet thought she'd have to scream for him to even hear her. He was so far away, and as they waited for the doctor to come back, she resisted tackling him to the ground if that meant he'd look at her. Peering down at her own hands, she wanted to chop them off. They were useless, she was useless sitting there. Her hands, mangled flesh, could do absolutely nothing to change the course in time that led them there. Why couldn't she make everything better? Soldier Boy didn't take her powers so why was she sat there not doing anything? Save him.

There was muffled speaking she only then realised was the doctor. Her head lulled to him, but she couldn't hear him. Squeezing her eyes shut, Violet tried so hard to bring herself back from where she was digging her own grave.

"We drained the fluid," the doctor said, his eyes turning to her as they both knew Billy wouldn't move, "but uh..." He looked like he wanted Billy to listen, and Violet gently reached out for him to peak up his head, "attempting further treatment would significantly impact your quality of life without necessarily extending the time you have."

Billy dumped the necklace on his side table before grabbing his pack of smokes.

"Uh, sir, no smoking."

Violet shook her head, because what was the worth stopping him?

"How long I got?" Billy asked.

"Months," he replied, "Twelve. Eighteen on the outside."

Sucking in a breath, Violet sunk in her seat and covered her mouth with her knuckles. Billy just started smoking, not even reacting, but she knew when it was the two of them he would. And it would all feel so much worse.

"Well..." He sighed, "you can kindly fuck off then."

Sighing, the doctor left, Violet hating the smell she was getting. The nicotine stung more than it had the occasions she would smoke. It would only be rare, but she used to mildly enjoy the pain of it. But now it only worsened their situation, and to know it could worsen Billy stubbed her. Standing up, she took it right from his hands and threw it to the ground before squashing it under her boot. Billy almost reacted to that, but the news hit him so hard he just let his hand collapse back into his lap.

Homelander won. Billy was dying, and after him Violet would lose the first person she has loved completely. It was too difficult to love before, and he showed her what she denied herself. Though now he was quivering below her and she could do nothing. The worst people always won, Vought always won. They took everything from her, time and time again. Violet wasn't sure how she'd love after Billy, if she ever could again. Love teaches you more about yourself than anything can, and it taught Violet how much she deserved it. He taught her she deserved to be cared for, to have someone.

She took another wobbly breath, placing both hands on Billy's face to tilt him up to face her. It was like watching the moon fade into an endless opaque nothingness, Violet centered in its torturous tirade. What once we're hazel eyes were now gray, and he immediately started crying once he gazed up at her. 12-18 months wasn't long enough, it was hardly what she needed. She counted the days in her head, then the weeks, making a timer in to which she'd follow until the last second. Feeling Billy's hand wrap around her legs, he tugged her closer to hold her, his cheek resting against her stomach. For as long as he needed he'd hold him there, his hands gripping her like she'd suddenly fade away. To think Homelander now had Ryan too, made them both weaker.

"I don't know what to do," she heard herself say, without any thoughts as to what she wanted to convey.

Billy pulled back and rested his hands on the backs of her knees, keeping her trapped close to him, "I don't want you to do anything. I just want you. I fucking need you now, properly."

Violet's hands were rested on his shoulders, "what am I supposed to do without you?"

"Be happy, be safe."

He repeated his fears from weeks ago, what made him leave her in the first place. But in that moment he didn't let go, he stared at her locking her in a trance. He knew that letting her stay would only hurt her more, but she wouldn't leave. She would no walk out with him dying. Violet remembered what it felt like to lose Lydia, how it was sudden and she had no time to process it. Maybe she did with Billy, but that didn't mean she'd survive it.

"I'll never be happy without you. I love you Billy," she said, and his gaze weakened even more to hear those words.

"You shouldn't."

"Fuck you," she breathed, "if I did everything I should do, my life would be so boring. We've had hardly enough time just to be a boring couple. What we should be doing, is going fucking home and watching some stupid show like Downton Abbey."

He laughed as she referenced M.M., smiling again. And her heart warmed, seeing the clouds clear to the person she remembered adoring.

"I want to hear you say it," she grinned sheepishly.

"Say what?" He tilted his head and Violet raised her brows expectedly.

As he caught on, Billy smirked, reaching a hand into her hair to pull her down into a kiss. It was if it was their first kiss all over again, that feeling becoming familiar all over again. She'd miss kissing him the most, because he had a way of stealing her breath until he was all she could think about. And forever she'd stay thinking about him, he'd be a huge portrait in her brain, an eyesore to everyone but her. He'd keep her going, he'd make her feel sane.

"I love you too," he said, and Violet gleamed.

Several weeks ago, Violet had become a reinvented version of herself. A year dedicated to the time Violet used to have them, but she could no longer say used, because she had them all then. She had created the version she wanted them to see in herself, and yet once again it changed. Still drenched in purple, Violet closed her eyes when they glowed so bright, as the swell of emotions was so strong. She was a supe, a music teacher, a lover, and she could be all those things at once. Her perception of herself was still molding, and only getting stronger. The indestructible Violet Henry. The loving Violet Henry. The broken Violet Henry. The supe you never wish to leave your brain for if she did you would not be ready for her strike.

And she was coming for them. Homelander and Victoria Neumann.