It had been what, weeks? Months?
He had no way of knowing what time of the day it was. The room he was in held no windows, no clock, nothing.
Not like he cared.
But it had actually surprised him when Felicia visited him one evening and informed him that he had only been there for a week.
He had been living in hell for only a week!?
He sat on the damp ground, back against the wall, clenching his knees against himself. The rattle of keys being put into the locks outside his door informed him someone was about to come into his little room.
Instinctively, he tensed up and clutched his knees closer to himself, shutting his eyes. He retreated far into his mind, turning back time.
Holding Mary Jane against him as she playfully pushed him away.
He chuckled out loud.
The way she would look at him whenever he got home from saving the city.
The first night they kissed.
Every time she told him she loved him.
Holding his hand against her stomach and feeling their children kicking.
He gasped as he felt someone put their hand on his arm.
"It's- it's just me," said a quiet voice.
This was new. Nobody had spoken to him in here for quite some time.
He recalled how Doc Ock had tossed him in the room on the same night that he had lost everything. Peter had pounded on that door for hours, but it wouldn't budge. He had yelled himself hoarse.
Revenge had been the only thing on his mind at that time. With nothing in the room to do, he quickly began to go stir crazy.
Guilt. Regret. Anguish. Remorse. Pain.
He wanted to be with her. He needed it more than anything else in the world.
He had lost everything.
But they had kept him in this room with literally nothing. What was he supposed to do!? He wasn't given any food or water, so he knew they weren't planning on keeping him alive for long.
Several days later, he thought, Doc Ock had come back.
Peter looked up at him from the ground.
"Is it time?" he raised an eyebrow at him.
The man walked over to Peter and set a hand on his shoulder. He didn't even flinch.
"Not quite." he smiled, and plunged a needle into him arm. "Just need to run a few tests."
"Why don't you just kill me now?" he questioned, like a kid asking why the sky was blue. His question was ignored.
"Ah, that will do," Doc Ock said and pulled the needle out of his arm, with a vile full of his blood. Peter looked up and Venom was standing in the doorway.
"I have testing to do, Eddie. I need him alive," Doc Ock told him impatiently.
Venom laughed the same shrieky laugh that filled Peter's ears. "He'll still be alive when I'm done here, I just have to have a word with him."
Doc Ock narrowed his eyes at him but then nodded his head. Peter watched as he left Venom in the room, shutting the door behind him.
Venom pulled his mask back from his face and pulled out Harry's bowie knife, pacing the room. Peter's eyes followed him back and forth, when suddenly the knife was suddenly whipped at him.
He winced and looked down, the knife was embedded into the muscle of his upper arm. He pulled it out and tossed it across the room.
"That was for the Vulture," Venom growled, picking up the knife.
Peter scoffed at him. "Really? What kind of super villain goes down with a simple stab to the back?" He prodded the wound on his arm with his finger.
Venom swiftly crossed the room, kicking him square in the jaw. "You're going to die in this room, Parker," Venom snarled as he knelt down beside him.
"Counting on that," Peter said before spitting blood into Venom's face.
He laughed and wiped the blood off of his face, allowing the Venom mask to cover him again. His black tongue lapped up the remaining blood on his mask.
"You're gonna regret that," he growled. He grabbed Peter's arm and twisted it back, instantly breaking it.
Peter's howl filled the room.
"Now, I know you're going to heal in a couple hours or so. I'll make sure to drop by every couple hours of every single day that you're here, rebreaking a bone or two, just to ensure you know who's boss here." He smirked and left the room, unlocking it and relocking it as he left.
Peter clumsily tried to set his arm back into place. He cradled his arm to his chest and rested his head on his uninjured arm.
True to his word, every couple hours or so, Venom would come back. Peter winced as the sound of his bones snapping echoed off the walls. Every now and then, Doc Ock would return to jam needles into him.
He thought he heard someone talking to him, and he felt someone carefully shaking his shoulder, but he continued to stay curled up in a ball against the wall.
"Peter, it's me," the voice repeated.
He had almost forgotten he heard the voice. He didn't want to get up. He remembered this voice. It was usually cold, unpleasant, bitter. But this time, there was a caring, worried tone.
He lifted his head and stared into the regretful eyes of Felicia Hardy.
"Jesus Christ, Parker!" she gasped at the sight of his face.
He brought his good hand up to his face and felt a slice running down the side of his face. Oh yeah, he thought. Venom had been in here earlier with Harry's knife...
"Here Har-, I brought you some water." She dug in her jacket pocket and brought out a small plastic water bottle.
"What day is it?" he asked suddenly, snatching the water bottle and gulping it down quickly.
"Sunday." She raised an eyebrow at him.
"The date. What date is today?" he looked annoyed at her.
"The... the 9th. July 9th. Why?"
Peter stared at her with his mouth wide open.
"I've only been here for a week!?" he shook his head. It had felt like so much longer, but it made sense. He couldn't live that long without food and water.
Then it hit him. One week from today would have been Mary Jane's due date. He curled up tighter and buried his head in his arms again.
There was pressure on his forearm and he automatically winced.
"What have they been doing to you?" she asked, awe struck. She must have been talking about the needle marks on his arm, or the bruising all over his body. He shrugged.
"Don't you know?" he mumbled, not looking up at her.
"Not the details," she said seriously before standing up. "Look, Doc Ock only plans on keeping you here another 2, maybe 3 days."
"Good," he whispered.
"Uh, no web-head. Not good. He's not moving you to the Hiltons, he's planning on letting Eddie kill you."
"Great."
Felicia silently stood in front of him for a moment. "He didn't do it, you know. Harry, I mean. He never set you up."
The pain of Harry's betrayal coursed through Peter. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had truly thought he had changed.
"Fuck you, Felicia. Get the hell out of here." His voice shook.
"I'm telling you the truth. He had no idea what was happening until you did."
"Then why hasn't he come in here? Can he not speak for himself?" Peter lifted his head from his arms, eyes brimming with tears.
"He's trying to find a way to get you out... and... I don't think he knows what to say to you, honestly."
"I don't want to get out. I just want—" Peter stopped suddenly. "Felicia, can you do me a favor?"
"...Possibly. What do you need?" she asked, slightly confused.
"Can you bring a weapon in here? Something like Harry's knife or something," he asked, slight excitement in his voice.
She raised both eyebrows at him. "You can't fight your way out of this. There's more of them than you, you don't have your web shooters anymore, and you're in pretty poor condition. I mean, I understand if you want to go down fighting, but—"
"No. No, no," he laughed. "I'm not planning on fighting my way out. I want to use it on myself."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "Look, I'm just here because Harry wanted me to sneak you in some water. He's more than livid at me because of what I did, and I don't think he'd appreciate it if I helped you kill yourself."
"Then he probably poisoned it." he sniffed. "Wait, what did you do?"
"I..." she paused as the door was opening.
Peter immediately wrapped his arms around himself, preparing himself for the pain that was surely going to come.
"Eddie, what do you want?" she sneered at him.
"Just having a little chat with Parker," he grinned at her.
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and left the room.
Peter retreated into the back of his mind. It was like he was subconsciously keeping tabs on different events and he switched back and forth as he needed; back at home with Mary Jane, and in this damp room that he would surely die in. He didn't even feel the cinder block smash against the side of his head.
"You've got some syrup on your face," Mary Jane laughed as Peter ate pancakes at his computer desk.
"Do I now?" He smiled crookedly at her. He went to wipe it off with his sleeve.
She threw a paper towel roll at him from the bed and he swiftly caught it.
"Maybe you should use one of those," she laughed.
"Nah, I have a better idea." He jumped onto the bed and pinned her down.
"What are you doing?" she giggled at him.
He slyly smiled at her. "I'm using you as my napkin."
Her face suddenly got serious. "Peter... you better not."
"I think I'm going to."
"Peter..."
He suddenly brought his lips down to hers, getting syrup all over her chin and cheeks.
"There, I think I'm all good now." He winked at her.
"Oh my gosh, you did not just do that!" She got up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom.
"Don't worry, babe, you're still beautiful!" Peter called out to her.
She peeked her head out of the bathroom door. "I'm getting you back later."
"Counting on it!" he called out as he laid his head against his pillow.
"Wake up!" he heard a muffled sound.
No, I think I'm good here, he thought to himself. Why would I want to wake up from this?
"Peter!" Someone was trying to shake him awake.
Just let me lay here. I'm happy. I'm with her.
"Seriously, man. I'll get another adrenaline shot if I have to."
Damn.
Peter slowly opened his eyes, everything seemed blurry at first. The room was turned at an awkward angle and he realized he was laying on his side. He looked over at the bloody cinder block laying next to his head.
"Your leg was broken... I snapped it back into place. Your head was bleeding like crazy, but I stopped it and eventually it began to heal by itself. But... you're not healing as fast as usual. I think it's because of how starved you are. I brought you some food though..." the voice rambled on.
Peter groaned, knowing who was in here with him. He was torn between ripping off his head and continuing to lay on the ground.
"Get out of here, Harry," he said, pulling himself up off the ground and resting his back against the cool wall.
"I brought you food," he repeated.
"Don't want it."
Harry nodded and placed the food on the ground against the other side of the wall and then sat against the wall opposite from Peter.
"Why did you do it?" Peter whispered.
"You haven't eaten in a week. I tried getting Felicia to bring you some, but she didn't want to come back—"
"No. Why did you betray me? You took everything from me."
Harry sighed. "I know I can't say anything to convince you. I've been thinking about what to say to you all week. There are no words to describe how sorry I am though, about what happened to Mary Jane and the twins."
Peter narrowed his eyes at him.
"And since I knew you wouldn't believe what I had to say, maybe you'd believe it if you saw it for yourself."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked.
Harry pulled out a disk-shaped object from his jacket. "This is the device that I used on you, to see your memories. I'm betting if I think hard enough about the memories I want you to see, maybe they'll pop up. You should think about what you want to see too, though. I'm not sure if it really helps, but there's no harm in trying."
"You want me to use your device on you? I'm sure you remember how much pain you put the person in," he sneered at him.
"I haven't forgotten." Harry stared at him.
Peter shrugged. "Sounds good to me then. A taste of your own medicine," he mocked.
Harry stood up and walked up to Peter. "I'm going to attach this part to your palm, is that okay?" He nodded to him and Harry put the piece on his hand, and then sat next to him against the wall.
"Now this part," He pointed to the needle, "you'll have to stick that into my neck. Once you do that, I'll be unable to move. If you use this on me for more than four minutes, there's a high possibility I could die. So please, once you're done, take this thing out of my neck," Harry said to him in a calm, controlled voice.
"What's to stop me from killing you?" Peter asked coldly.
"The truth. Hopefully," Harry said as he readied himself for the pain.
Peter stared at him thoughtfully and then stuck the needle into his neck, probably a little harder than necessary, causing Harry to instantly tense up.
Colors swirled all around him and Peter felt like he was being pulled forward and suddenly he was in the arcade at the fairgrounds. A small smile appeared on his face as he saw a younger version of himself playing Mortal Kombat 2.
He shifted his head as another boy came running up to him, scoffing as he saw it was, of course, a younger Harry.
"Hey, man, I just got off the phone with my phone with my dad. He wasn't lying, he's sending me to boarding school tomorrow." He frowned.
"Are you serious?" Peter looked crestfallen.
Harry sadly nodded his head. "I don't want to go."
"Hey, it won't be that bad. You'll get to travel to another country. I bet you'll have a ton of fun!" Peter tried to cheer him up.
"But I won't know anyone. I won't have any friends. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Peter tried to further reassure him. "Look, it won't be that bad. Think positive. We can still see each other during the summer, right?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope. He already told me it's best for me to stay there during the summer to keep up on my schoolwork."
Peter's jaw dropped. "He- but—" He sighed. "No matter what happens, you and I stay friends, okay? We can email each other every week and maybe I can try to visit you out there sometime."
Harry gave him a gloomy nod. "Yeah. I'll miss you, though."
"I'll miss you too, Harry. Best friends for life though, I mean it! You'll have a great time out there."
"Thanks, Pete. You're like my brother, I don't know what I'd do without you."
Peter smiled at him and playfully shoved him.
"My brace-faced brother," Harry added with a sly smile on his face.
Peter watched the interactions between the two before realizing he was smiling himself. How easy things used to be.
Colors warped around Peter again and he found himself in a small room with Harry and Doc Ock. He growled at the sight of them.
"Mr. Osborn, this won't take long," Doc Ock said to Harry.
"What's up?" Harry answered.
"I found this article the other day and noticed something." Peter watched as Doc Ock turned the paper around and pointed to a picture of Spider-Man, but where he pointed was the bottom right hand corner where it read 'Photo taken by Peter Parker.'
Harry visibly tensed. "Yeah, what about it?" He shrugged.
"I have a feeling this guy may know who Spider-Man is, or at least know something about him that we may not. I want you to go interrogate him."
"You want me to question some photographer about Spider-Man?" He laughed and his body relaxed.
"Yes. I want you to do exactly that. Away from his house, preferably. If you need to dispose of him I'd rather it go undetected by others."
"No problem, Doc," Harry said as he went towards the door.
"And Mr. Osborn, please hurry."
Peter saw Harry roll his eyes before opening the door.
For the third time, colors began to swirl. Peter had a huge knot in his throat, Harry had been telling the truth! After everything that Harry went through for him, Peter had automatically assumed Harry had been guilty of this. He had destroyed the cure, he had destroyed his friend's only hope for a normal life.
They were suddenly in Harry's bedroom, but it looked like someone had completely destroyed it. Peter looked around and Felicia was standing near the door, and he found, or rather heard Harry.
"HOW STUPID ARE YOU FELICIA!?" Harry yelled as he bashed a coffee table against the wall. Splinters flew everywhere.
"I already told you why I did it." She crossed her arms, paying no attention to the objects flying around the room.
"I don't care why you did it! You betrayed me! I told you not to interfere with them! She's DEAD now Felicia! Peter is stuck in a cell! What the hell am I going to do!?" He threw a bottle of scotch on the ground, shattering glass everywhere.
"Go on with your life. Move past this. We can do it together," she said in a calm voice.
"Together!?" he laughed. "Felicia, if I even live after the next couple of weeks, I never want to see you again!" he growled.
"What do you mean 'If I live'?"
"Do you really think Doc Ock is going to let me live after everything?!" He smashed another bottle of liquor on the ground.
"Yes, he will. He promised me no harm would come to you or me in exchange for the information about Parker I gave him."
It had all been Felicia. She was the one who sold them all out. He tasted the anger on his tongue and had the sudden urge for revenge.
"That may be, but I'm going to get him out of there. Somehow. Doc Ock's not going to let that go, and I'll need to stay behind to stall them."
"You're not going to risk your life for him!"
"DON'T TELL ME WHAT I AM OR AM NOT GOING TO DO!" Harry yelled again, inches from her face.
"Harry, calm down." She spoke quietly. Peter could see why. Harry's eyes were nearly glowing green and he was far too close to her for comfort.
Peter didn't get to see what happened next, he was shot back into reality. Harry was tensed up against the wall and Peter carefully took the needle out of his neck.
"Harry." Peter shook him.
"Give me... a minute." Harry said through his teeth.
A few minutes passed in silence and finally Harry stirred.
"Wow. I guess my suit allows me to recover much faster than you with this thing." He laughed nervously. "So... I'm alive. Thank you for that. I'm guessing that you saw something?"
Peter nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."
Suddenly, Peter wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Harry, startled at first, patted him on the back.
"I'm sorry that I even believed you would have done that to me." Peter let go of him.
"Yeah, well, I'll admit he definitely made it seem like I set you up. I'm glad you know the truth now though."
Peter felt self-conscious as he watched Harry skim over his arms and face.
"They've been taking your blood," Harry stated.
"Yup. And Eddie Brock has been having his fun too. I'm guessing he's the one that had broke my leg. He rebroke my rib a few days ago, well a few ribs."
Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'll kill him."
"Don't worry about it. I'm only in here another day or two. That's what Felicia told me, anyway." Peter suddenly paused. "Felicia is the one who sold me out."
"She did," Harry replied.
"I'll kill her," Peter growled.
"Wait. She said only a day or two left?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Mhm. My time is almost up," he said, popping the p sound.
Harry stood up quickly. "I need to find a way to get you out of here before then. I need to, to—"
"Harry, chill," Peter laughed. "I'm not leaving here."
"No, I'll get you out. I'll find a way."
"I don't want to leave."
Harry looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Peter looked up at him with a sad smile on his face. "I'm just really... tired. She was taken from me, man. They were, too. I lost my family. I lost too much. I don't want to live in a world where they don't exist. I can't stand it."
"You can't- you can't just give up." Harry looked angrily at him. "I mean you- you were so angry with me when I wanted to give up."
"Harry, you're my friend right?"
"Best friend," he stated without hesitation.
"Then help me," Peter whispered to him.
Harry laughed sarcastically. "I just told you I was going to."
"Do you have your knife back?"
"Yeah. Brock nicked it from me the night- a week ago. Got it back today though." Harry grinned at him, pulling the knife out.
"Give it to me," Peter said too suddenly.
"Why?" Harry asked.
Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "Let's be real here. I'm not getting out of here. At least let me go out on my own terms."
"That's not an option." Harry secured the knife back in his pocket.
"If you're my friend, Harry, you'll give me the knife."
"Nope." He crossed his arms.
Peter scoffed at him. "Can you imagine what Brock is going to do? I don't think he's going to make it very quick."
"I'm not going to let you kill yourself, Peter. End of story." Harry crossed the room and sat back in his spot, opposite from Peter.
"Then you have to do it," he said simply.
"Excuse me? I did not just go through all that trouble to help you and make you see the truth just so I can lose you all over again."
"Harry..."
"No. You can't ask me to do something like that," he said, gritting his teeth.
Peter leaned his head roughly against the wall and stared across the room, thinking for several minutes.
"So, that's a definite 'no' from you then?" he asked.
"Correct."
"Well then," Peter said slowly, "I guess I know who I have to talk to..."
Harry stood up. "Who do you mean..?" he asked warily.
Peter's eyes quickly darted to the bloodied cinder block next to him.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered sincerely. "I just can't."
"What do you—" Harry began to question, but was instantly cut off as Peter flung the cinder block across the room, smashing it into the side of his face.