The plane hijacking was nothing. A minor setback, at best. Sure, he got a little trigger happy with the hijacker in the cockpit and fried the controls with his lasers, but he'd be able to spin the thing in his favour. He's Homelander. He has the entirety of America eating out of his palm. The entire world.

He told Maeve to leave with him. He was ready to let the entire flight crash and burn. He tried to help them, it wasn't his problem now. He sure as hell wasn't going to go down with the rest of them.

You were nothing. A nobody. The little girl pleading for him to save her hadn't gotten under his skin, so why had you? Standing from your seat in a panic, legs trembling like a newborn fawn. It was pathetic. Pathetic. He takes Maeve and leaves, cursing once he reaches the ground and still finds himself thinking about you. The plane was still in the air, he had time—

Damn it.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him. He flies off without another word, straight into the falling aircraft. He grabs you, ignoring the cries of every other goddamned insect on that plane with gritted teeth. He couldn't wait to see the damned thing sink into the ocean.

"Not a word about this, you hear me?" He breathes harshly, grip on you so tight it borders on painful. "Or I'll make you wish you went down with that damn plane."

He flies off, holding you tight. He just needed to keep you away until he could be sure you wouldn't squeak, that's all. Maybe in a pretty little cage so he could keep an eye on you and figure out where this awful attachment he feels to you is coming from so he can be rid of it.