A/N: This is my first spider-man fic so please no flames! I've never read the comics so please forgive me if any of this is inncorrect. Also, I am no medical expert when it comes to appendicitis or cesareans. All of my information comes from various websites.
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing…
Harry Osborn hated waking up to go to school. What was the point? He wasn't book smart and he was lucky if he kept a C average in his classes. Still, he was much happier attending a public school as opposed to all those private schools that his father had sent him to. Whenever he woke up to go to school, he had to remind himself that he was better off at Midtown High.
This morning however, he wasn't feeling to good. During the night, he had woken up with pain in the lower right side of his abdomen. He threw up, thinking that it was just something that he had ate, but then later, the pain returned. Harry took some medicine, hoping that it would help. The medicine helped him go to sleep, and he had no other problems the rest of the night.
Now, the pain was back. It had returned as soon as he was just about to go downstairs and head to school. He leaned against his bed for support while he placed pressure on his abdomen. He felt like he was about to throw up again, but he held the bile down. He then managed to get out of his room, and then he headed downstairs.
He found his father reading the paper. Harry hoped that his father would be in a good mood to let him skip school. Harry sat down across from his father.
Norman looked up from the paper. "Good. You're awake. I was afraid that I was going to have to go and wake you up myself."
As Norman began to get up, Harry said, "Dad, I don't feel good." He felt like a five year old who didn't want to go to kindergarten. He hadn't said that in a very long time, and it made him sound like he was just pretending to be sick.
Norman gave his son a strange look. "Harry, aren't you a little to old to try to play hooky with me?"
Harry sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Dad, I'm serious!"
Norman approached his son and felt his forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever."
Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter! My stomach hurts!"
"Harry, just take some medicine. I've got a meeting in a little while, and unless we get you to school right now, I will be late." Norman walked away.
"I will be waiting for you in the Rolls."
Harry rubbed his forehead. He was right; it was useless to try to convince his father to let him stay home. He decided to obey his father and try to go through the day without throwing up.
He went to the bathroom, took some medicine, got his back pack, and headed out the door.
As soon as he walked out, the sun practically blinded him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. He then heard the honk from the Rolls and headed inside the car. Norman then told the driver to head to Midtown High.
While Norman made some calls on his cell phone, Harry leaned his head against the window.
It's going to be a long day.
The sounds of the busy traffic didn't help Harry. He didn't mind living in a big city; he just hated it when traffic was slow, and when his dad insisted on talking on the phone instead of with him.
Though Harry was wide awake, he began to feel drowsy, like as if it was 3 a.m., and he was still awake.
Maybe it's the medicine kicking in.
He then found himself in front of Midtown High. Harry then got out, his father not even saying goodbye. It didn't bother Harry anymore. He knew that his father was busy and he had a lot of things to do.
Harry got out, and then the Rolls drove away. Harry looked up at the steps to the entrance, and then the nausea kicked in. Just looking at the steps made him dizzy. He began to slowly walk up the steps as the pain in his abdomen intensified. He couldn't understand why he was in so much pain.
He managed to make it to Chemistry. He took a seat next to his friend Peter who's nose was stuck in a Chemistry text book.
Harry groaned as he laid his head on his desk.
Peter placed the book down.
"Hey, you okay? You don't look so good."
"Thanks for noticing." Harry said.
Peter ignored the sarcasm. "Seriously, what's wrong, Harry?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't know. My stomach's been hurting and even when I take medicine, nothing helps."
"Does your dad know?" Peter asked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. But he made me go to school anyway."
Before Peter could say another word, class began. Harry did his best to pay attention, but he suddenly began to feel unnaturally hot. The room was suppose to be cold, but Harry felt like he was in an oven. The pain in his stomach returned followed by the nausea. After the assignment was given, Harry raised his hand.
"Yes?" his teacher asked.
"May I please go the nurse?" Harry grimaced as he asked the question.
"You may." said the teacher without any hint of concern. Peter took one last look at Harry and noticed that he looked a lot more paler then usual.
Harry hurried as fast as he could to the nurse's office. He entered through the doors and found a woman filing her nails while another did some paper work.
"May I help you?" asked the woman with the nail filer.
Harry's breathing suddenly became shallow. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead, as he felt another pain stab him in the stomach like a knife.
"Can I please see the nurse?" Harry's voice was filled with desperation. Not too long ago, he thought that it was just stomach pains, now he was beginning to think that it more than just that.
"I'm sorry, but she already is seeing someone. You can sit right there until she's done." Harry groaned. He didn't think that he would have to take a number in order to see the nurse. This was getting him no where.
"Please! I need to see the nurse!"
Before the woman could answer back, the other jumped into the conversation.
"Donna, let him in. He's the Osborn's kid, and the last thing this school needs is to be sued for not letting the head of Oscorp's son go see the nurse."
Harry hated being referred to as "the Osborn's kid." It was bad enough that his dad had high expectations for him, and having to deal with it at school was not his cup of tea.
"Can I use the phone please?" he pleaded.
Surprisingly, she allowed him. Harry quickly dialed Oscorp's number. He was hoping that his father's meeting hadn't started. He knew that his father would come and get him once he explained the situation. The phone ranged three times before it was picked up.
"May I help you?" Harry recognized the voice. It was the voice of a secretary named Sharon Mitchell.
"Yes. I need to speak to Norman Osborn."
"May I ask who's speaking?"
" I'm Norman's son, Harry. I need to speak with my father please!"
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Osborn is in a very important meeting right now. Would you like for me to leave a message for him?"
I don't believe this! I'm just trying to get in touch with my father!
Before Harry could answer her question he felt the room spin and he fell to the floor, with his hand putting pressure on his abdomen. The last thing he heard before drifting out of consciousness was Donna shouting "CALL 9-1-1!"
The meeting had been a success for Norman Osborn. Deals were made paper were signed, it was all in a days work for him. He walked out of the conference room and was just about to make another call before his secretary stopped him.
"Mr. Osborn?" she asked, her voice a little hesitant.
"Yes?"
"Your son has been taken to the hospital."
Norman's eyes widened.
"WHAT!"
Norman began to rack his brains. Why hadn't Harry said something?
He did. Don't you remember? His mind asked.
Yes, but…
… you didn't believe him did you?
Norman began to pace. It couldn't be that serious.
"When was he taken?"
"Sometime during your meeting, sir."
Norman's brow furrowed. "And you didn't bother to tell me during my meeting?"
Sharon was afraid to speak up. She was afraid that her boss would start yelling at her, but she had to let it out.
"You told me that you couldn't afford any interruptions."
Norman was about to yell at her, saying that that didn't apply when his son was concerned, but he stopped himself. He had said that, and deep down he knew that it did apply to everyone, including his own flesh and blood. It was an important day; if he had been interrupted the meeting wouldn't have been a success. But what about Harry? Was he okay? What was wrong with him?
Norman looked at Sharon.
"Cancel the rest of my plans for today. Tell me, where did they take my son?"
Sharon gave him the name of the hospital, and Norman raced over to the hospital.
Dr. Richards had never been so nervous before. He had treated patients with the same condition as Harry, but this was different. He held the life of Norman Osborn's son in his hands. He had never met Norman before or his son before, and he hated being put in this situation.
Still, he was going to treat Harry just like any other patient, and not let the fact that Harry was the heir to Oscorp get in his way. He looked over Harry's chart and Dr. Richards' suspicions were confirmed. Harry was suffering from appendicitis. The vomiting, nausea, pain and tenderness of the abdomen, a fever, and dizziness all pointed in that direction.
Harry laid in a hospital bed in the ER. He was wondering if his father knew that he was in the hospital, and if he was going to come by to see him.
He probably doesn't even care that I am in this position.
He tried to sit up, but the pain wouldn't let him. He knew that his appendix was going to have to be removed, but oddly enough, he was scared at all. He didn't even care if his father wasn't going to be here when he woke up from the procedure or not. He just wanted the pain to stop so that he would feel better.
Norman made it to the hospital and found himself in the ER. Before he could ask the nurse at the front desk were his son was, Dr. Richards found him first.
"Norman Osborn?"
"Yes. I'm looking for my son, Harry."
Dr. Richards held out his hand, and then just to stay on the doctor's good side, Norman shook it.
"I'm Dr. Richards. Your son is my patient. We did several tests on your son, and we've concluded that he is suffering from appendicitis."
For some reason, Norman's body went cold. He didn't think that it was going to be that serious. He half expected for Harry to be ready to go home, but this was different. His son was actually sick.
He cleared his throat. "Has it ruptured?"
"No. We have to operate today, otherwise it will be too late."
Suddenly, Norman was no longer in the ER. Instead, he was at a maternity ward seeing his wife Emily getting wheeled away on a gurney into the operating room…
He could here orders being thrown around and his wife crying…
He could still see the look on the doctor's face after the cesarean…
He could still see the blood…
"Mr. Osborn?" Dr. Richards still get a response.
"Mr. Osborn?"
As if he waking up from a dream, Norman blinked.
"Are you all right sir?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. I'm sorry. Please, take care of my son. Make him well."
It was what his mother would've wanted.
Dr. Richards straightened up. "All right. My team will be ready shortly. Your son is in room 104."
Norman walked away and headed towards his son's room. As he stepped in, he saw Harry who was asleep. He had an I.V. and he looked as white as a ghost.
Norman sat at his son's side. It had been long time since he had watched Harry sleep. The last time was probably when Harry was only a baby. Harry's nanny had lost her grandmother, so she took the night off. It was Norman's job to watch over Harry, and he had never felt so low in his life. He couldn't believe that he didn't even know his own son. He didn't know what position to lie Harry down on, he didn't know the difference between Harry's cries, he didn't know how much milk Harry could drink, and he didn't know how Harry liked to be held.
Now, he wondered if he really was a good father. Norman had done his best. He always made sure that Harry had everything: expensive clothes, money, a mansion, everything! Wasn't that enough to make his son happy? What kid wouldn't want to have everything that Harry wanted?
He always made sure that Harry got the latest of everything whether it was a new iPod, a Flat Screen TV, the latest video games, or a new cell phone. He had showered his son with so much luxury and gifts. Yet, no matter what Norman did, he knew that it wasn't enough for Harry. Norman knew that there was something missing, he just couldn't figure out what…
Then, a nurse entered the room. "Mr. Osborn, we need to prep your son for surgery."
Norman nodded. He looked at Harry one more time. "I'll be waiting, Harry."
Norman walked out of the room, and then Dr. Richards along with other doctors and nurses, took Harry out and into the operating room. Norman sat down in the waiting room, thinking how long it was going to take.
This seems oddly familiar.
Tick tock, tick tock. Seconds felt like minutes, while minutes felt like hours. He began to bite on his fingernails. He only did that when he got nervous, and the last time he did was when Harry was born…
It had been a long night for both Norman and Emily. After 12 hours of labor, the baby wouldn't come. Norman had never felt so helpless in his life. He had stood by his wife's side, helping her through the contractions, but he still felt like it wasn't enough.
"Mr. Osborn, may I see you outside?" asked Dr. Grace.
Norman hated having to leave Emily's side. She looked like she was dead! Her eyes were glazed over and she looked as pale as a ghost. He kissed his wife's forehead.
"I'll be back, love." Emily cried fresh tears as she felt the next contraction. Reluctantly, Norman followed Dr. Grace outside.
"Mr. Osborn, the baby has turned. Considering your wife's condition we need to do a c-section. We've tried moving the baby, but nothing has worked."
Norman felt like his mind was lost. They had been told the risks of Emily getting pregnant due to her epilepsy, but Emily didn't care. She wanted a baby. Now, Norman risked of losing her and their baby. He had to act now to save her.
"Doctor, please, don't let my wife die." Norman's eyes misted over, but he didn't care. He couldn't lose Emily!
"We'll do what we can."
Almost in a flash, Emily was ready. Norman held her hand as they took her to the OR.
"Norman…"she whispered weakly.
"Yes, Emily?"
"Please, if anything should happen, take care of our son. Please, Norman."
"Don't say things like that! You're going to be all right!"
"Promise me, Norman. Please!"
Norman swallowed a lump in his throat. This time he wasn't afraid to cry.
"I…I promise." He kissed his wife before she was taken into the OR. Norman sat in the waiting room, listening to the clock tick way the minutes.
Norman had decided to take a little walk to clear his head. It was odd that he was remembering all of these things when they had happen so many years ago. He then found himself looking at the babies in the nursery. The girls were wrapped up in pink blankets while the boys were wrapped up in blue blankets, and they all wore little hats. Norman noticed that some of the babies were actually wide awake and alert. One in particular caught his eye. It was a boy and he had brown eyes and he was looking all around, with his little fists in the air. Norman approached the window and looked at the baby that was lying down in front of him. For just a few seconds, Norman thought that they baby looked straight at him…
He wasn't really sure how much time had passed. He had been biting on his nails for quite awhile, and he wondered if they were still there. He just wanted to know if she was okay. She had to be okay. He couldn't go on without her!
Dr. Grace emerged from the OR; her scrubs covered in blood, and the look on her face was grim.
No…she can't be…
Norman stood up and looked straight at Dr. Grace.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
"Emily lost a lot of blood and she had a seizure during the procedure."
Norman shook his head uncontrollably. "No! No!" He tried to use the wall for support but he fell and began to cry. She can't be dead…she can't be…
Dr. Grace went to his side. "Mr. Osborn, your wife's fine. She's stable." Norman perked up a bit. He wiped his eyes and smiled, thankful that she was okay.
Dr. Grace continued. "The baby's fine. He's in the nursery. Your wife named him Harold. Harry for short."
They both got their feet. Norman was thankful that Emily had survived and that the baby had made it out safely.
Norman composed himself and swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Thank you doctor."
"You're wife will be put in a room in a few minutes. You can go in the nursery to see your son now."
Norman walked away and decided to have a look at his new baby. He went to the nursery and the nurses allowed him to see his son. He followed the nurse to the front where a 7lb 14 oz auburn haired baby boy was wide awake.
"Here you go, Mr. Osborn. Now, hold his head likes this." She helped place little Harry in his father's arms and left them to bond.
Norman looked down at the baby and they both stared at each other for just a few minutes. Norman didn't know what to say as he looked down at the baby. He had no words only the feeling that this little one had almost taken the life of Emily. Minutes later, he left Harry to be by Emily's side. He told her that the baby was beautiful and that he was happy that they had a new addition to their lives. Sadly, Emily passed away some time later, leaving Norman at odds with his son.
Norman back tracked and found himself back at the waiting room. A minute later, Dr. Richards emerged from the OR.
"How is he?" Norman asked.
"The operation went well. Your son is going to make a full recovery, and he'll be able to leave in a couple of days. He'll be put in room 330."
Norman stretched out his hand and Dr. Richards shook it.
"Thank you."
Later, Norman was back to sitting by son's side only this time Harry was awake. Harry was still a little drowsy from all the morphine, but he seemed to be doing just fine.
"Harry, what do you want me to get you?" Norman asked.
"What? But it's not my birthday."
"I know son, but I want to get you something. You just had surgery and I want to get you something." Norman use to do this whenever Emily had to go to the hospital because of her seizures. He would get her earrings, a new dress, tickets to a show, a cruise, anything to her hearts desire. After Harry's birth, he bought her a black dress but she only wore it once, and that was on the day of her funeral.
Harry knew what his father was doing. It wouldn't be long before he opened up a new iPod or a new video game. Sure, it was nice living in high maintenance, and getting expensive gifts, but it wasn't enough. What he really wanted was a dad. Yes, he had a father, but he had never had a dad. Someone who would want to spend time with him or have a conversation that didn't end in argument. That was what he really wanted, but he couldn't tell that to Norman.
"Ah, I'll just make it a surprise. Get some rest." With that Norman was gone and back to being CEO of Oscorp.
The day before Harry left, Peter came by for a visit.
"Hi Harry! How've you been?" he asked.
"Oh, I feel better when I don't have to eat this hospital food again." They both laughed. Harry was happy to see a friendly face instead of doctors and nurses. He hadn't seen his father since his surgery, but it didn't bother him the least.
Before they could continued their conversation a nurse came in with a gift.
"Harry, you're father sent this."
She handed it to him and before Harry could say thank you, she left.
Harry sighed. He knew what it was: an iPod. Didn't his father know that he had six of them at home?
Harry opened it and in his hand he held a black iPod Nano.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Peter asked.
"Pete, this is my seventh iPod, and my father doesn't realize it."
"Oh, c'mon, Harry it's the thought that counts." Harry shook his head. Peter would never understand. He was blessed with a good family. He would never understand what he went through.
"Peter, I want you to have it."
"Harry, no I can't-"
"Just take it. I know you've been wanting one."
Hesitantly, Peter took it and thanked him.
The next day, Harry was well enough to be discharged. The Rolls was ready and it was time for him to go home. When we made it back, he entered his room he found a new bike, a new Flat Screen TV, a new video game, a new X-Box, and a new Play Station. Once again, Harry was disappointed that his father would never understand what he truly needed. He already had 3 bikes, 4 Flat Screen Tvs, 3 X-Boxes, and 4 Play Stations, and hundreds of videogames. Sure, these material possessions would give him some happiness, but like everything else, it was temporary.
However, despite all of this Harry decided to have a go with his new Play Station. Like Peter had said, "it's the thought that counts" right?
Author's Note: Please read and review!