Note: This is set sometime between ASM #23 (The Goblin and the Gangsters) and #24 (Spider-Man Goes MAD!) Hence why Harry is still in high school.
Disclaimer: No, I have never read Untold Tales of Spider-Man. But I kinda want to.
Part One
Harry thanked the cabbie as he closed the door of the taxi and walked toward the front gates of the mansion. At least one thing went right for him today, he thought. In fact, he was almost thankful that his father had counted on Harry having to take a cab home and had provided him with the necessary cash.
But then there was the thought of what his father's reaction would be when he saw how late Harry was getting home. The teenager shuddered at the thought as the gates opened for him. No doubt he would have been worried sick, had probably already had dinner – it was going on six o'clock after all – and now Harry would have to be punished for his tardiness. Never mind the fact that he'd been at a mandatory help session (about which Harry had been too embarrassed to inform his father of). Still – Harry felt that this wasn't right. He was starting to dread even seeing his father, as the sight of him typically warranted a lecture about how worthless he was and how he had no business being so weak and helpless.
Might as well get this over with, Harry thought, bracing himself as he knocked thrice on the oak front doors of the Osborn estate.
Presently the door was opened by the Osborns' kindly butler, Bernard Houseman, who greeted the high school student warmly: "Rather late to be getting home, Master Harry."
Harry smiled in spite of himself as he stepped inside. "I had a study session to go to – still need to get my Science grades up," he explained.
"That is all very well," the butler replied, closing the door behind his young master. "After all, Mr. Osborn wishes for you to succeed."
"Where is Dad?"
"Oh, your father hasn't arrived home yet, sir."
Harry did a double-take. "He hasn't?"
"I'm afraid not," replied Houseman. "He left a message for you on the machine."
At that, Harry strolled into the sitting room, threw his book bag unceremoniously onto the couch, and made his way over to the answering machine, where – indeed – a blinking red light told him that someone had called the house when no one had been at home. Confused and somewhat nervous, he pressed a button and listened as a broken, emotionless monotone announced:
"Two – new – messages."
Two messages? Just as Harry began to dimly wonder what the other message could be about, he heard his father's voice issue from the speakers.
"Hey, Harry. It's Dad. Sorry I couldn't pick you up today – hope you got home safely. Anyway, I'm just calling to let you know I'm working late again tonight, so go ahead and get out the phone book and order yourself some take-out. There should be money in the kitchen cabinet. Don't bother waiting up for me, I probably won't be home in time for dinner. You be sure to do your homework, okay? I'll call again when I'm leaving. See you later tonight. 'Bye."
A dull click.
"Wednesday – three – forty-six – P.M.," the machine rattled off.
Maybe he's on his way home now, Harry thought as a flat beeeep signaled the start of the other message. Maybe he's already called to say he's leaving.
However, the youth was quite taken aback when a very different voice burst from the speakers.
"Osborn, where are you!?" Harry recognized the distinctive (and demanding) voice of the Daily Bugle editor, J. Jonah Jameson. "I set up this meeting specially to show off you and your company and you're not here! You're taking advantage of me because I'm so generous, I know it! You'd better have a good excuse, Norman! Oh, and this is Jonah, by the way. Give me a call."
Click.
"Wednesday – five – fifty-one – P.M." Beeeep. "End of final message."
Harry contemplated the machine, brow furrowed. If his father hadn't been able to make it to his club meeting, he must really be piled up with work. But he had always made time for his club... Had something prevented him from calling? Harry had heard recent reports about an alleged plot to stir up the rackets brewing in the works. Not to mention there were still constant sightings of Spider-Man – and now, increasingly frequent ones of the Green Goblin. He couldn't imagine what any of those people could possibly want with his father, but he certainly wouldn't put anything past them, particularly the Goblin. If Jameson's news stories were true, that character had gone toe-to-toe with the Human Torch – and won with apparently minimal effort. Harry didn't like the thought of his father being out so late while people like that stalked the city at night.
Still...
"Houseman, do you know where the phone book is?"
The rest of Harry's evening passed in solitude. He called a pizza delivery service, finished off the milk, and got most of his homework done – everything he knew he could do, at any rate – all with an inexplicable feeling of ease. He somehow felt more comfortable without his father around and almost wanted to not see him at all that night. He didn't have to tell him about his help session, listen to his bugging for Harry to get his grades up, or hear about how awful his day was and how bad a mood he was in. Harry could relax again.
Even so, as the hours ticked by without another call, Harry couldn't help wondering what was keeping his father. Osborn Industries' CEO had never been out this late before. Harry certainly hoped the thought he'd briefly entertained earlier about Spider-Man or the Goblin hadn't come to pass.
Finally, when the hour grew late, Harry once again approached his butler.
"Any sign of Dad yet?" he inquired.
Houseman shook his head. "No, Master Harry, your father still hasn't arrived home yet."
Harry frowned. Now he was genuinely getting worried: It was almost eleven. Something must have prevented his father from calling or he wouldn't have been so late. If something had happened to him...
Houseman put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder as though he had read the boy's thoughts and told him, "Don't fret, young master. Your father is capable of fending for himself. You will see him in the morning, I am sure."
"Well..." Harry was uncertain. He so wanted to believe the butler. After all, he wasn't the best of fathers, but Norman Osborn was still the only family Harry had ever known. He was still Harry's dad.
"...at any rate," Harry finally answered, "when he does get back, could you tell him there's pizza in the fridge? Also we're out of milk."
"Of course, Master Harry," replied Houseman. "Now, you'd best get to bed. You want to be well-rested for tomorrow."
Tired but no less troubled, Harry complied and bid the butler good night as he went upstairs.
Poor Dad, he thought as he crawled under his covers. He always works so hard. We hardly ever have any time together anymore. I know he's busy and...not always happy to see me...but...I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost him. I hope he's alright. I hope he gets home soon.
Sleep came to the upset teenager much sooner than he ever would have expected and quickly took its hold on him.
Just over thirty minutes later, the phone rang downstairs.
[A/N:
My Brain: Hannah. What are you doing. This is not what you should be working on.
Me: But the Osborns make me depressed. *writes fic*
So, a few months ago, I was reading thru my Marvel Masterworks, and I have to admit, I get a little heartbroken when I think of the relationship between Harry and Norman going on nowadays since I have now borne witness to (part of) a period in comics history when Norman genuinely cared for his kid. They were never a perfect or ideal family, but they loved each other as father and son. How did we get from a time when the sight of Harry overdosed in a hospital bed was enough to drive Norman to tears to a time when Norman has no problem staging his son's murder for public sympathy? HOW?!
So I wrote this. I think I got the idea in either October or November and started writing, then I let it fester for a while and got back to work on it in December. I finished it in time to give a copy to a friend of mine as a Christmas present (and by "in time," I really mean "just before we went back to school in January") with the intent of posting it here later, then I forgot about it until now. Originally it was a one-shot, but it had to be split into two parts due to being eight pages long by itself.
I hope you've enjoyed it so far. If you have, go on to Part Two. If not, maybe Part Two will change your mind. Either way, please leave me a review. My email's lookin' pretty empty now that I have a laptop.
(I also now realize that there's no real reason Houseman can't answer the phone. Pretend he's doing chores or something.)
See ya!]
