Homelander: New Legacy

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Roger's head felt heavy, and in his hazy consciousness, he seemed to hear someone talking.

"…I left some fruit here for you, though I know you might not be able to eat it…"

The voice sounded familiar to Roger, but he couldn't quite place it.

His awareness flickered again, and he heard the same voice.

"…Still not awake, huh? Sigh, Marvel seems to have released a new movie recently, but the theaters are closed, so I can't go watch it…"

...

'What…?' Hearing a familiar name, Roger's fingers trembled slightly, though the person speaking didn't seem to notice.

Once again, his consciousness flickered, and another voice reached his ears.

"Dan, it's kind of you to visit Roger so often these days. In the future, don't bring so many gifts. The doctor says he might not wake up."

"Ah, Uncle Frank, don't say that. Roger and I grew up together; he's my best friend. Plus, I just got promoted recently, so buying some gifts is no trouble at all. And if Roger can't eat them, you can—you're here every day taking care of him, so you should keep up your strength too."

"Sigh…"

Roger recognized the voices of these two people.

One was his father, Frank, and the other was his childhood friend, Dan.

It had been so long since Roger had heard their voices that he'd almost forgotten them. But here, unexpectedly, he was hearing them again.

Yet… wasn't he hit by Darkseid's Omega Beams?

How was he back here?

Could this be a dream?

Roger's mind was a tangled mess. He wanted to sit up and ask what was going on, but his body was stiff and immobile.

It felt as though his superhuman abilities had vanished. Roger's entire body felt weak, and even the slightest movement seemed overwhelmingly difficult.

The voices faded as his father and Dan left. Roger continued trying to move his body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to open his eyes. His body, though still feeble, was slowly regaining some control.

He turned his head slightly, taking in his surroundings. A white ceiling above him, the antiseptic smell of disinfectant in his nose. A fruit basket sat on the cabinet next to him, and an IV tube was connected to his hand, delivering a cool fluid into his veins.

"…I'm… back…?"

His voice was faint, hoarse, as though it hadn't been used in years. His throat was parched as he tried to sit up, but a sudden clatter interrupted him.

Turning his head, he saw a young nurse holding a basin, staring at him in shock. She quickly set the basin down and rushed over, gently pushing Roger back onto the bed.

"You've been asleep for a long time; you can't get up yet. Lie back and rest. I'll call your family right away!"

The nurse pressed the intercom near the bed and announced, "The patient in Room 15 is awake! Notify his family immediately!"

She then turned back to Roger. "Your family and friends will be here soon. Just rest for now."

"…Okay."

Roger tried to ask her something, but his voice wouldn't come out. It was as though the brief words he had spoken earlier had drained all his strength.

Unable to do much else, Roger lay back down, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His mind was a foggy mess, unable to process his current state. The nurse, meanwhile, began wiping his face with a damp cloth, cleaning the sweat that had accumulated from his earlier attempt to sit up.

Hours later, Roger's father, stood by his bedside. Roger was now sitting up against the headboard, with a doctor standing across from him, asking routine questions.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Roger…"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"What's the last thing you remember before you lost consciousness?"

"Lost consciousness…?"

Roger looked at the doctor in confusion, then glanced at his father before finally answering, "I remember… I was in my friend's room, holding… a Superman figure, then… nothing."

"Hmm…"

The doctor reviewed the medical file in his hands, deep in thought.

Frank, looking worried, asked, "Doc, is my son alright?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Frank. Your son's cognitive functions seem fine, but he might have some memory gaps from being asleep for so long. You'll need to explain things to him."

"Is his body okay?"

"No issues there. The head injury has fully healed. After some physical therapy and routine checks, he should be discharged soon."

"Thank you, Doc!"

"You're welcome. I'll leave you to catch up."

The doctor exchanged a few more words with Frank before leaving the room.

Roger and his father sat quietly for a moment before his father began explaining what had happened.

Roger had been admitted to the hospital after being struck on the head by a falling object while out buying a late-night snack.

The incident had occurred the same evening he had admired his roommate's Superman figure.

The family responsible for the falling object had been identified and paid substantial compensation, which had covered Roger's prolonged hospital stay.

However, from that day on, Roger had been in a coma, with doctors predicting he might never wake up. Yet, against all odds, fourteen months later, he had regained consciousness.

"So… I've been asleep for fourteen months?"

"Yes. You have no idea how scared I was when I heard about your accident. Every day since then, I've been praying for you to wake up…"

Frank's voice trembled as he peeled an apple for Roger, but midway through, he seemed to catch himself and lightened his tone.

"Anyway, what matters is that you're awake now. If you'd stayed unconscious any longer, we'd have run through the compensation money. I wouldn't have known what to do."

He handed the peeled apple to Roger, smiling warmly.

Roger accepted it, glancing at his father's graying hair. In a low voice, he said, "You've worked hard these past months."

"Oh, come on. Don't be so formal with your old man. Taking care of you is what I'm supposed to do."

Frank chuckled.

Roger said nothing, eating the apple in silence.

His strength seemed to have vanished. His eyesight and hearing were back to normal, and there was no trace of the Infinity Stones or Athena's presence.

Reflecting on the doctor and his father's explanations, Roger began to wonder if everything he had experienced had been a dream.

But… could a dream feel so real?

Roger wasn't sure. Few people had woken from comas to describe their experiences, and he had never researched whether coma patients dream or simply exist in a void.

Noticing Roger's silence, Frank continued, "You'll need a few more days of observation and physical therapy before you can be discharged. After that… well, we'll figure it out later. Just focus on recovering for now."

Before Roger could respond, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

"Wait here a moment."

Hearing the commotion, Frank frowned and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Roger couldn't make out what was being said, as voices in the hallway were muffled, but he caught snippets like "interview" and "benefits."

After a while, his father returned, sighing heavily.

"What happened outside?" Roger asked.

"Oh, just some local reporters wanting to turn your story into a news piece. What nonsense. You've just woken up and need peace and quiet, not a media circus. These reporters… they're nothing like they used to be…"

Frank grumbled.

Listening to his father's complaints, Roger began to feel the reality of being back in his own world.

Yet his mind remained muddled. Were his experiences in other worlds real or a dream?

Both felt so vivid that he didn't want to dismiss either as mere imagination.

After some more conversation, Frank left, needing to return to work. In his absence, a young nurse named Clara Wilson took over Roger's care.

"Roger, how about a little walk? The weather's nice today."

Pulling back the curtains to let in the sunlight, Clara turned to Roger with a bright smile.

Roger glanced at the calendar. It was June, with warm, sunny weather—perfect for a stroll in the hospital's garden.

Looking out at the sunlight, Roger replied, "Alright, thank you."

"No need to thank me, Roger. It's my duty to take care of you."

Clara smiled sweetly as she helped Roger into a wheelchair and pushed him toward the exit.

Halfway there, she paused as if remembering something.

"Oh, but before we go, you'll need this."

"…A mask?"

"Of course! It's an essential accessory these days."

She joked lightly. Roger chuckled, taking the mask and putting it on.

"Good to go?"

"Perfect. Let's head out."

With that, Clara pushed Roger outside, where he felt the warmth of the sun on his face for the first time in months.

Squinting against the light, he breathed deeply, savoring the gentle breeze and summer's mild heat.

"You seem to enjoy the sun, Roger."

Seeing his contented expression, Clara smiled.

"Maybe. I didn't use to like it much."

"Why the sudden change?"

"Hmm, one day, I just started liking it."

"Roger, you're such a tease!"

"Sorry, but it's true."

Roger laughed lightly.

The reason he had come to love sunlight was simple: in other worlds, basking in its rays made him stronger. That euphoric sense of power was something he had grown to cherish.

But now, it seemed the sun's warmth was meaningless, as his abilities had disappeared… or so he thought.

As Roger mused, a cacophony of voices suddenly overwhelmed his senses, flooding his ears like static.

'Today's weather is lovely…'

'Hey, let's play chess!'

'Welcome to the news hour, I'm your host…'

'Waaah! My balloon!'

"..."

The influx of sounds caused Roger to clutch his head in pain, lowering it as he winced.

"Roger! Are you alright?"

Clara's concerned voice, once gentle, now blared like a megaphone in Roger's ears.

Looking up at her, Roger's vision shifted. He saw through her clothes, skin, and muscle.

Bones, veins, the rhythmic beating of her heart—it was as if he were staring at an anatomical diagram.

"Roger?! Hold on, I'm taking you back inside—"

"No, don't!"

As Clara reached for her phone to call the doctors, Roger stopped her just in time.

"I'm… fine. It's just… the sunlight caught me off guard."

"Really?" Clara frowned, unconvinced. "You didn't look fine earlier."

"I promise, I'm okay."

Roger mustered a reassuring smile, though it was hidden behind his mask.

Seeing that he appeared calmer, Clara finally relented.

"Alright, but don't take this lightly. We should schedule a check-up this afternoon."

"I understand. Thank you."

Roger looked around—the hospital was the same, the garden was the same.

The sun, the breeze, the chatter of people—nothing had changed.

But Roger knew something had.

His experiences in those other worlds weren't a dream.

Because now, he could feel it again—his powers, the strength of Homelander, the might of Superman.

Though his body remained weak, Roger was certain his abilities were returning, gradually but surely.

And as he glanced up at the clear blue sky, he murmured with a faint smile:

"Looks like I'll be spending a lot more time in the sun."

"Exactly! Sunlight is great for your health."

Clara agreed cheerfully, oblivious to the deeper meaning behind his words.

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