OOO
When Peter reappeared in his class, it didn't take much for Dr. Connors to realize that something was wrong. He seemed sleepy and dazed, failing to answer even simple questions; either Gwen Stacy answered or the class fell silent for embarrassing periods of time. At the end of the lesson, the professor approached him.
"Hey, Dr. Connors," Peter managed a half-hearted greeting.
"Hello Peter. I noticed that you weren't in class the other day. Is everything all right?" He tried to control the level of concern in his voice; Peter was, after all, a college student and some skipped more often than not. If it had just been the incident of one day he wouldn't have been to worried, but around Peter, incidents seemed to pile up even when every indication the boy gave was one of studious normalcy.
"Yeah, it's fine. I just had to help out a friend get back on his feet."
Connors quirked an eyebrow.
"Friend? Surely you don't mean... that Osborn fellow?"
Peter stiffened at the name shared by both Harry and Norman.
"His name's Harry," he told the professor quietly.
"Of course it is. I didn't know that you knew him personally."
"We were friends back in high school. Things hit a rough patch and then he was in that accident; but I'm glad I can be there for him."
"I see. Well I can certainly understand that; I was just a bit concerned about your lack of energy of late. Is there anything else?"
For a moment, Peter considered shrugging the questions off like he had to most others. But with so many of the people he knew too close to the problem to talk about it comfortably, and with the one confidant he had outside of his normally small circle dead at the bottom of the river, he conceded, sitting down into a chair in the first row.
"Have you ever gotten really far into a relationship - like, proposal far - and then realized that maybe it was all based on infatuation from the start?"
Connors face evidenced his surprise.
"I didn't know you were so deep into a relationship. Not that it was ever any of my business. But why, after so long as you seem to imply, would you suddenly decide that it was all infatuation?"
"Isn't that what it is, when you only like a person because she's pretty or she's nice? When you only date someone because you've maintained some sort of rose-colored ideal about her? I mean, if she can't really understand you or the things you go through or put up with quirks..."
"I'm sure you've heard what I'm about to say before, Parker. But good relationships take time; they don't just materialize after a few dates. Do you think the difficulties are something you can work out?"
"I used to. I used to think that the difficulties were mostly external. And when they weren't, that was the line I used - that relationships take work and that if we put enough effort into it things would work out. But now it seems like the problems are with us, not with everybody else, and those problems aren't working out by simply talking about them. That we just have different priorities in life. And we can't really reconcile those. I mean, I thought I loved her. But choosing between her and - and other stuff, well, I'd probably choose the other stuff."
"If that's the case, keeping in mind that I'm no relationship expert and you should take any advice I give you with a grain of salt, I would say that perhaps you should rely on your instincts. Better to realize now that there are fundamental conflicts between the way you two want to live your lives than to end up rushing into a marriage that ends with a messy divorce. As one who is married, let me say this: you should look for a real lifelong companion, a best friend that you can share things with and not just someone attractive with whom you enjoy having, you know. Relations ."
Peter nodded, blushing just a bit, and again the doctor could see his frame slumping, as if he hadn't slept in several weeks.
"By the way Parker," he tried to conversationally change the subject, "not to worry you too much about something that is probably of no concern, but do you remember that sample you gave me? Of that symbiotically acting goo?"
His spider-sense flared up and a sense of dread permeated him for a moment. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"
"I'm afraid that the sample you gave me was lost. A student accidentally broke a few petri dishes I had in the back the other day and when I looked to assess the damage, the sample was gone. It's probably too small to do anything, but I thought you should know in case you wanted it back or wondered if I had done anything else with it."
Somehow Peter managed to find his voice.
"No," he said dully, "It's fine. I didn't need it back. It was so small, it's probably dead by now anyway."
He didn't believe that, anymore than he believed that Norman Osborn was mouldering in his grave. It didn't do to worry people, however. It was just one more circumstance for Spider-Man to stress about in private while everybody else went on with the business of their lives.
"I hope things work out for you Peter," Connors' voice came interrupting his brief reverie. "But before you decide anything, might I suggest you get some rest? You look like you need it."
Peter nodded mutely and shuffled out the door; hopefully that portion of symbiote was too small to do anything, but he would have to keep an eye out just in case.
OOO
The green suit, dutifully repaired by Bernard, fit Harry as well as he'd remembered, though it seemed somewhat cumbersome at first. The Sky Stick was even more awkward to become reacclimated with. Harry fell off of it the first four times he tried, but each time he gritted his teeth and remounted, no matter how sore his muscles were.
He needed to be in top form if he wanted to help Peter instead of being a burden and distraction. So he worked until he was too exhausted to stand. When this finally happened, Bernard gave his master and charge a fond smile and helped him limp out of the room and onto his bed.
With the flick of a button, the mask came off and Harry turned towards the butler who was putting away the rest of the equipment.
"How am I doing?" He huffed.
"Well enough for now; I daresay you will improve with practice, in the training room as well as in real life."
Harry nodded then roused himself; he wanted to sleep but the outfit was uncomfortable. Forcing himself to change out of the lightly armored flight suit and into pyjamas, he returned to the king sized bed and fell down on it, sinking into the pillows and drifting off into sleep.
The butler took the discarded suit and replaced it on its hanger, being careful not to disturb anything else in the room. One day it might be emptied but that was Harry's decision to make, not his. For the moment he simply put things back into their proper order, first in the hidden room and then in the rest of the house, humming an old Tommy James tune as he worked.
The sound of the phone ringing disrupted his ordered activity but he smiled when he heard the voice on the other end.
"He is resting at the moment, Master Parker, but if you come over in a couple hours or so, I venture to say that the visit will not be unwelcome."
OOO
Peter hung up the phone and had barely reached the door when he heard the unmistakably stumbling footsteps of Ursula behind him. He turned around and did his best to be polite.
"Hey Ursula," he smiled, giving her a weak wave.
"Peter," she asked timidly, shuffling her feet. "Peter I wanted to ask, about the other night - that boy, with the wide brown eyes, he is doing all right, yes?"
Despite all the worries that swirled in his mind regarding Harry, Peter managed to widen his smile.
"For now, yes. He's okay for now."
Relief washed over her face and Ursula bounded off into her father's apartment, pigtails flapping.
Entering his apartment like he'd intended, Peter too decided it would be best if he took a quick nap before heading off to Harry's. They needed to discuss a number of issues, but they were both clearly tired out. He was a bit embarrassed that Dr. Connors had noticed.
His mind falling to thoughts of Dr. Connors, he pushed aside the symbiote issue for a moment to consider what else the professor had said. MJ needed to be more than beautiful; she needed to be understanding, a companion. Even with the support of the city, there were times he needed more than her increasingly reluctant 'Go get 'em Tigers'; he needed somebody who could comprehend what he went through and whom he could sympathize in return. At the moment, it was becoming increasingly clear that she wasn't that person. Her own worries tended to consume her and she wanted someone to lean on rather than someone she had to prop up and support. Even when he could support her, she seemed to shy away from his attempts to cheer her up. After all, he would have tried if she'd told him that she'd lost her job; but she'd told Harry instead of him. Was it any wonder he couldn't say what she needed to hear when she left him in the dark?
It wasn't really fair to either of them, Peter thought, to drag out the relationship like they were. She could be looking for someone she cared about. And he... and he what?
I could at least save money on dinner, he thought with a hint of sarcasm.
He supposed he ought to see if her plan to connect with her friends worked. They'd both invested so much time in the relationship that it was worth at least this last shot to save it. Perhaps he was just being too pessimistic and their issues were truly momentary; and whatever his decision would be, he could see the wisdom in Dr. Connors' recommendation to get some sleep before he made one.
With the amount of sleep he'd had of late, Peter was surprised he was functioning at all, to say nothing of coherency.
OOO
As soon as Harry woke up, Bernard let him know that Peter was coming over. A look of anxiety immediately crossed his face.
"Seriously? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He gasped, springing from the bed.
"I thought it prudent to let you sleep, sir. You looked like you needed it."
"Yeah, but I went to sleep smelling disgusting," he grumbled. "I can't greet Pete like this."
The butler doubted that the Parker boy would mind, but when his master was determined to do something there was only so much he could do to sway the boy.
"Would you like me to set anything out for you sir?"
"A fresh shirt," Harry's voice came from out of the bathroom, accompanied by the sound of running water. "Clean everything, in fact. Not too fancy, just casual. But clean, OK?"
"As you wish, sir," Bernard acknowledged. Then, as he turned, muttered beneath his breath, "But perhaps I shouldn't be the one saying that."
Inside the shower, surrounded by the white noise of the pounding water, Harry could not hear him; nor would he have if the shower had been silent. As he lathered himself, he became lost in thought as he loofah and hands ran over the prominent scars on his chest. Though the damage had seemingly been repaired, these had not disappeared nor had the marks on his face softened any further. Perhaps there was a limit to what the formula could do, at least without further doses; even then it might not help if the tissue was too set in its damage.
He wondered what the scars would look like to his friends. No matter what their private thoughts might be, he doubted that either would ever call him ugly with any measure of sincerity. Even if Peter teased, it was only because he could see beyond it and an aesthetic lack was no issue between them. Would they remind them of bad times, though? Each scar contained a memory of some past pain; and not all were inflicted by Venom. Some were signs of sacrifice, possibly failure - for he knew how hard Peter had taken his passing. Others, however, were reminders of agression and an obsession that they would both rather leave buried.
His face was the most prominent such sign; but there were others as well. Perhaps it would depend upon the mood when seen. He mused for a moment about what Peter's scars looked like, for surely he had some as well. Then he frowned and shook his head. He was no more likely to see such scars than Peter was to see his. Only when they swam would such marks be visible, so why worry about it? His body should not be a source of anxiety. And even if it was scarred, there were plenty of people who thought scars were alluring. Besides, his muscular build more than made up for however unseemly his scars might be.
Gritting his teeth, Harry scrubbed his skin then shampooed his hair, perturbed by the direction his thoughts had taken. His attractiveness when naked was nothing he needed to worry about, not when there was a moutain of practical concerns facing him. He needed to learn so much more than his brief, venegeful bent had taught him about fighting. As for Norman - he postponed the thought again. Bernard had let him know that all of the paperwork had been prepared for an exhumation in two days and he didn't want to think too much before then.
He came out of the shower wrapped in a towel to find his bed freshly made up and the clothes sitting atop the clean sheets. He pulled them on, enjoying the feeling of the light fabrics against his clean skin. Checking his room's clock, he knew Peter would be there soon, so he worked rapidly to style and dry his hair. He reached for a bottle of aftershave then stopped. Peter never did care much for scents, even less so now that his senses were heightened in general.
Leaving the bottle on the shelf, he went out to the parlor to wait for Peter to arrive.
OOO
A/N: Not much this chapter, save for a big thanks to those who have reviewed, favorited and alerted. :) Thanks for the encouragement.