Author's Note: Ooh... the second to last chapter. ::grins:: Fun. Anyway, this is by far my favorite. Dunno why, though. Maybe because it's full of angsty goodness and stuff. Ah well. Anyway, read and review. ...My, I say that a lot. -.-*
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The hero's spider-sense went wild as Harry lunged at him, barely escaping the antennae's point as he turned, trying to keep his eyes on Harry and the Goblin at the same time. This was terrible, a complete catastrophe. For the first time in a long while, Spiderman wondered if, perhaps, he wouldn't come out of this alive. What hurt more, however, was the fact that his best friend might be the one to take his life, still believing him to be a murderer.
"Harry, stop! I didn't murder your father!" He shouted over the roar of thunder that echoed through the sky, lightening flashing in the distance. It was at this time he realized he'd left his back open to the Goblin, and he cursed himself silently for being so stupid, hoping to move fast enough so that he could keep himself protected from father and son.
"Liar!" the young Osborn shouted, his accusation almost inaudible as thunder tore through the sky once again, the sky lighting up at almost the same time. And as he stabbed forward with his weapon once again, the Goblin noticed the opening that his nemesis had left. Now was his chance.
His winter-gray eyes trailing over a pile of garbage only inches away, his hands flew out, reaching for the first thing that he saw that could be considered a weapon. A television, its front smashed in. Lifting it over his head as he pulled it from the heap of rubbish, he grinned sardonically and then slammed it down, attempting to smash the wall-crawler's skull with it.
"I always knew television would be the death of people your age."
With Harry lunging at him from the front and the Goblin looming down at him from above, Spiderman grimaced, turning pale beneath his red and blue attire. He turned to the side, the antenna clipping the side of his stomach as he cried out in pain, blood flowing freely to meld with the mud. This, however, didn't stop the Goblin, and, in almost slow motion, the battered hero could only watch, in shock, as the television slowly came down. With a sickening crunch, Spiderman, fell to his knees, holding his shoulder, which, he concluded, was broken. So he'd turned enough to prevent the madman from breaking his skull. That was great. But damn it, his shoulder was in excruciating pain and he couldn't move his arm.
"This could be the end..." He muttered, glancing up at Harry. His best friend. He would have never imagined it. Silently, he begged for forgiveness as he lifted his uninjured arm and shot webbing at Harry's feet, hoping to trip him up.
And it did. Within seconds, Harry was down, his head smacking the muddy ground with a wet thump. Groaning as he hit the ground, he lay there for a second, giving the hero a moment's reprise on one front. But the auburn-haired youth's fall did not stop the Goblin.
"This -is- the end, Spiderman," he growled, a gloating smirk on his face. Reaching once again for his enemy's neck, he let a cackle slide past his lips. "Say hello to Osborn in hell for me."
With renewed strength and swelling anger, Spiderman gripped the Goblin's arm, allowing himself to be hoisted off the ground. With all his strength, he lifted his leg and kicked with all his might, head spinning as the pain and loss of blood were becoming unbearable.
"How can I do that if he's not dead?" He whispered harshly, breath heavy and slow as he watched the Goblin with intensity.
"He'll be dead soon enough, web-head," the demon answered, nearly dropping his rival as the kick hit him in a tender spot in his side. He would not let go, however. He was too close to what he had wanted to let the little spider get away.
Apparently Harry Osborn felt the same way. Gripping the pike with all his might, he struggled to stand through swimming vision. From what he could tell, the Goblin had Spiderman by the neck and if he could just get close enough, he could spear them both with one fell swoop. He pressed forward slightly despite his body's protests, and when he thought he was close enough, he lowered the weapon. Now the two monsters who made his life hell would pay. Now he and his father would truly be safe. His jaw setting in fierce determination, he lunged forward with all his might, to spear both spider and goblin.
Senses tingling and with failing vision, Spiderman did the last thing he could think of. Swinging his legs up, he found that tender spot once more, and, using both legs this time, pushed against the Goblin with all his might, forcing him to release his grip on him and allowing the agile spider to flip backwards out of his reach, and, he noted as he landed, out of Harry's path.
And instead of skewering both men, Harry found only the Goblin on the end of the antennae.
A harsh gasp escaping his lips, the green-clad lunatic sank to the ground in pain. No! This wasn't fair! He was supposed to win this time! He -was- winning! And now, he was all but laying on the ground, his host's son's weapon piercing the lower part of his heart and lungs, each breath he took filling his lungs with blood. It was only a matter of time now before he met the grave again... and he had a feeling that whatever Dark God have given him a second chance the last time wouldn't make a repeat performance. Especially considering the wound he had now was a dozen times more fatal than anything his glider had done.
Drawing a harsh, rasping breath, he looked up with at Harry with venom in his eyes. "Harry, he was right... he didn't murder your father. You did."
"I - I don't understand." the younger Osborn answered, his hands falling away from his weapon in shock.
"Why don't you ask the web-head," he hissed, reaching slowly for another pumpkin bomb hidden on his person. If he could distract Harry and Spiderman just a few seconds longer, he could take them both with him.
Spiderman stood slowly, blood still trickling down his side, pain racking his body as he moved forward, step-by-step. This was twice he'd failed Norman. Twice he'd failed to save the man and reunite him with his son. This, he mused, was half of the reason he'd decided to help Harry and Norman in the first place, the other half being that the younger Osborn was his best friend. He was a fool, to think that he could make them the perfect family again, but, he reminded himself, at least he had tried. That had to count for something.
"Harry... maybe you should step away from him."
Harry nodded mutely at the red and blue-clad hero's request, but failed to move. The Goblin was going to die. Sure, that's what he had been trying to accomplish, but now that it was a fact and not just wistful thinking, it gnawed at the edges of the younger Osborn's mind. He had hurt someone. Someone was going to die because of him. And to make matters worse, the part of him that was still somewhat coherent was busily trying to find out what the Goblin had meant when he had accused him of killing Norman Osborn.
And that moment of hesitation was all the Goblin need. Pushing the small red button on the side of the bomb he had pulled out of seemingly thin air, a flash of light and fire caught the trio, sending them all flying.
Thrown back into a wall of trash, Spiderman gasped, costume tearing in various places while his mask remained intact. For the second time that day, he felt another rib crack as he fell, face first, into the muck of the junkyard. He remained motionless for a moment, catching his breath and trying to will his body to move one more time. Rain fell on him heavily, a moan escaping his bleeding lips as each droplet, each tiny dagger, slashed into his back. Finally, he was able to move again, and slowly, he raised himself, casting a worried and blurred gaze around him.
"Harry...?"
The man in question let a loud moan that bordered on a scream. Unlike his super-hero of a roommate, Harry didn't have the above average constitution he possessed. Where the explosion had only broken another rib on Spiderman, the young Osborn now sported dozens of bruises, several burns, two cracked ribs, and a broken wrist. And the Goblin had been as equally as unlucky as his son, now laying dead at the foot of the glider that had taken his life the last time.
"Harry? You alright?" Spiderman asked, softer tone taking over as he moved to stand next to his best friend. Leaning down, and biting his lower lip to keep the pain back, the spider wrapped his friend's arm around his neck and lifted him up, starting to walk away from the battlefield and the prone form of the Goblin.
"Come on, let's get you home."
"Wait," Harry choked out, half-heartedly trying to keep the hero from dragging him out of the junkyard. He needed to find out who the Goblin had been... who he had killed... and he didn't beat around the bush when he spoke next. "I need to see who he is."
Spiderman hesitated. Was that a good idea? He didn't think so. Finding out he'd killed his own father would hurt Harry more than the pumpkin bomb had. But, for reasons unknown, the web-slinger loosened his grip, an action that would undoubtedly allow Harry to escape from his grasp. Silently, he wondered if Harry would forgive his alter ego if he found out it was his father. But that was selfish, and reprimanded himself for even thinking about that.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
And with that, the auburn-haired youth moved over to his father's fallen form, each step causing him pain. Holding his ruined wrist to his chest, he lowered himself to kneel the ground to the aid of his good hand. For a moment, he just sat there, fearing what he would find under the unbroken jaden mask. Then, time passing in slow motion, he took a deep breath and reached for the small golden clasps that held the mask in place.
Snapping them open, he used his unharmed hand to pull the mask away and what he saw made his eyes widen in shock. The Green Goblin was his father? No. No, it wasn't possible. His father wasn't a lunatic. His father would never have tried to hurt him, or Peter, or MJ. But even in his denial, the face of his father staring up at him blankly - features locked in death - made so much sense. The odd laughter at times that drifted through the Osborn Manor. The argument he and his father had gotten into over Mary Jane at Thanksgiving. The strange disappearance of the green demon after his father's 'death'. Hell, even the comment the Goblin had made about him being the death of his father. It all fit perfectly.
And now, not only did he have blood on his hands, but it was his father's blood.
Now, he had been the death of both his parents - his mother in childbirth and his father now.
"No," he whispered, tears and rain mingling freely on his cheeks.
"I'm sorry."
He really hadn't meant for it to turn out this way. He was a hero, he was supposed to save people. And, in a way, he supposed he had saved Norman. He trusted that there was no way the man would have wanted his son dead by his own hands. Death meant freedom for him. But that was dumb. No life should have been claimed. Why couldn't he save everyone? Why?
"I'm truly sorry." He whispered, letting the wind carry his words to the younger Osborn. He stood there a moment, letting the boy grieve as he diverted his eyes from the scene. "You need medical attention Harry. Come on."
Nodding dumbly, he stood, his eyes remaining fixed on his father for a moment before meeting Spiderman's hidden gaze. "What about him?"
"I'll come back for him after I drop you off." He stated softly, moving to take Harry's arm once more. "And I'll return him to your home. Just as I did before." He stopped for a moment, turning to meet Harry's gaze. "Is that fine with you?"
"Fine," Harry choked out, emotion making speech hard.
With a nod, the stronger of the two men started off, carrying Harry toward the exit. "I know it hurts... but try not to let that consume you," he muttered to Harry as they reached the exit of the junkyard. God, did his shoulder hurt. Struggling to breathe and unable to use his arm, Spiderman paused for a moment, catching his breath as he glanced around the street. Hopefully, no one would see him.
"I think I might have to call you a cab." He joked, starting his trudge toward the hospital once more.
Harry forced a smile. It was true. He couldn't let the fact that he had killed his father take over his life. But it was so damned hard. Was this how Peter had felt when his Uncle Ben had died? Harry didn't want to think about it. And speaking of Peter, what was he going to tell his best friend? Was he going to spill the truth... let his roommate know that Norman Osborn had really been the Green Goblin? Or would he keep it to himself, knowing that in the past he had trusted peter with everything? He didn't know, and the thought itself wiped the false grin off of the younger Osborn's face.
"I... I can get to the hospital myself if you want to go back..."
"Let me walk you a few more blocks. That way, I'll know you're in a... 'safer' neighborhood," Spiderman replied as he kept moving, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll be fine, but you... I'd worry to much about you to get there and back safe."
"Thanks. But why? I mean, I tried to kill you..."
"Despite what you thought, I save people. It's my job," he answered jokingly, a light chuckle escaping his still bleeding lips as he glanced at Harry out the corner of his eye. "Besides, I know what it's like to lose a father... and I know that under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have acted like that." Harry was his best friend after all. Not that Spiderman could ever tell him that.
And at that, Harry simply nodded, unsure how to answer or if he even wanted to in the first place.
"Here you are." Spiderman stopped his walk and removed Harry's arm from his neck, before backing away slowly. "Make sure you get yourself to a hospital fast." The hero stated, turning to leave.
"Sure," he mumbled, turning away from the hero and moving in the direction of the hospital only to pause before taking too many steps. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again. Then, taking a deep breath, he tried once more, this time finding his voice.
"...I'm sorry you couldn't save my father... But... I know you tried..."
It was the closest thing the hero would ever get to an apology from Harry Osborn.
Underneath his burnt and tearing mask, the super spider smiled, a genuine smile that hadn't found his face for God knew how long. He didn't reply, too caught up with the fact that Harry had actually 'apologized' to say anything, but nodded to show he'd heard and understood. Continuing his slow walk, Spiderman watched Harry over his shoulder for a few minutes before turning full round and heading back to the junkyard, one thing in mind.
Norman Osborn's body.
---------------------------------------------------
The hero's spider-sense went wild as Harry lunged at him, barely escaping the antennae's point as he turned, trying to keep his eyes on Harry and the Goblin at the same time. This was terrible, a complete catastrophe. For the first time in a long while, Spiderman wondered if, perhaps, he wouldn't come out of this alive. What hurt more, however, was the fact that his best friend might be the one to take his life, still believing him to be a murderer.
"Harry, stop! I didn't murder your father!" He shouted over the roar of thunder that echoed through the sky, lightening flashing in the distance. It was at this time he realized he'd left his back open to the Goblin, and he cursed himself silently for being so stupid, hoping to move fast enough so that he could keep himself protected from father and son.
"Liar!" the young Osborn shouted, his accusation almost inaudible as thunder tore through the sky once again, the sky lighting up at almost the same time. And as he stabbed forward with his weapon once again, the Goblin noticed the opening that his nemesis had left. Now was his chance.
His winter-gray eyes trailing over a pile of garbage only inches away, his hands flew out, reaching for the first thing that he saw that could be considered a weapon. A television, its front smashed in. Lifting it over his head as he pulled it from the heap of rubbish, he grinned sardonically and then slammed it down, attempting to smash the wall-crawler's skull with it.
"I always knew television would be the death of people your age."
With Harry lunging at him from the front and the Goblin looming down at him from above, Spiderman grimaced, turning pale beneath his red and blue attire. He turned to the side, the antenna clipping the side of his stomach as he cried out in pain, blood flowing freely to meld with the mud. This, however, didn't stop the Goblin, and, in almost slow motion, the battered hero could only watch, in shock, as the television slowly came down. With a sickening crunch, Spiderman, fell to his knees, holding his shoulder, which, he concluded, was broken. So he'd turned enough to prevent the madman from breaking his skull. That was great. But damn it, his shoulder was in excruciating pain and he couldn't move his arm.
"This could be the end..." He muttered, glancing up at Harry. His best friend. He would have never imagined it. Silently, he begged for forgiveness as he lifted his uninjured arm and shot webbing at Harry's feet, hoping to trip him up.
And it did. Within seconds, Harry was down, his head smacking the muddy ground with a wet thump. Groaning as he hit the ground, he lay there for a second, giving the hero a moment's reprise on one front. But the auburn-haired youth's fall did not stop the Goblin.
"This -is- the end, Spiderman," he growled, a gloating smirk on his face. Reaching once again for his enemy's neck, he let a cackle slide past his lips. "Say hello to Osborn in hell for me."
With renewed strength and swelling anger, Spiderman gripped the Goblin's arm, allowing himself to be hoisted off the ground. With all his strength, he lifted his leg and kicked with all his might, head spinning as the pain and loss of blood were becoming unbearable.
"How can I do that if he's not dead?" He whispered harshly, breath heavy and slow as he watched the Goblin with intensity.
"He'll be dead soon enough, web-head," the demon answered, nearly dropping his rival as the kick hit him in a tender spot in his side. He would not let go, however. He was too close to what he had wanted to let the little spider get away.
Apparently Harry Osborn felt the same way. Gripping the pike with all his might, he struggled to stand through swimming vision. From what he could tell, the Goblin had Spiderman by the neck and if he could just get close enough, he could spear them both with one fell swoop. He pressed forward slightly despite his body's protests, and when he thought he was close enough, he lowered the weapon. Now the two monsters who made his life hell would pay. Now he and his father would truly be safe. His jaw setting in fierce determination, he lunged forward with all his might, to spear both spider and goblin.
Senses tingling and with failing vision, Spiderman did the last thing he could think of. Swinging his legs up, he found that tender spot once more, and, using both legs this time, pushed against the Goblin with all his might, forcing him to release his grip on him and allowing the agile spider to flip backwards out of his reach, and, he noted as he landed, out of Harry's path.
And instead of skewering both men, Harry found only the Goblin on the end of the antennae.
A harsh gasp escaping his lips, the green-clad lunatic sank to the ground in pain. No! This wasn't fair! He was supposed to win this time! He -was- winning! And now, he was all but laying on the ground, his host's son's weapon piercing the lower part of his heart and lungs, each breath he took filling his lungs with blood. It was only a matter of time now before he met the grave again... and he had a feeling that whatever Dark God have given him a second chance the last time wouldn't make a repeat performance. Especially considering the wound he had now was a dozen times more fatal than anything his glider had done.
Drawing a harsh, rasping breath, he looked up with at Harry with venom in his eyes. "Harry, he was right... he didn't murder your father. You did."
"I - I don't understand." the younger Osborn answered, his hands falling away from his weapon in shock.
"Why don't you ask the web-head," he hissed, reaching slowly for another pumpkin bomb hidden on his person. If he could distract Harry and Spiderman just a few seconds longer, he could take them both with him.
Spiderman stood slowly, blood still trickling down his side, pain racking his body as he moved forward, step-by-step. This was twice he'd failed Norman. Twice he'd failed to save the man and reunite him with his son. This, he mused, was half of the reason he'd decided to help Harry and Norman in the first place, the other half being that the younger Osborn was his best friend. He was a fool, to think that he could make them the perfect family again, but, he reminded himself, at least he had tried. That had to count for something.
"Harry... maybe you should step away from him."
Harry nodded mutely at the red and blue-clad hero's request, but failed to move. The Goblin was going to die. Sure, that's what he had been trying to accomplish, but now that it was a fact and not just wistful thinking, it gnawed at the edges of the younger Osborn's mind. He had hurt someone. Someone was going to die because of him. And to make matters worse, the part of him that was still somewhat coherent was busily trying to find out what the Goblin had meant when he had accused him of killing Norman Osborn.
And that moment of hesitation was all the Goblin need. Pushing the small red button on the side of the bomb he had pulled out of seemingly thin air, a flash of light and fire caught the trio, sending them all flying.
Thrown back into a wall of trash, Spiderman gasped, costume tearing in various places while his mask remained intact. For the second time that day, he felt another rib crack as he fell, face first, into the muck of the junkyard. He remained motionless for a moment, catching his breath and trying to will his body to move one more time. Rain fell on him heavily, a moan escaping his bleeding lips as each droplet, each tiny dagger, slashed into his back. Finally, he was able to move again, and slowly, he raised himself, casting a worried and blurred gaze around him.
"Harry...?"
The man in question let a loud moan that bordered on a scream. Unlike his super-hero of a roommate, Harry didn't have the above average constitution he possessed. Where the explosion had only broken another rib on Spiderman, the young Osborn now sported dozens of bruises, several burns, two cracked ribs, and a broken wrist. And the Goblin had been as equally as unlucky as his son, now laying dead at the foot of the glider that had taken his life the last time.
"Harry? You alright?" Spiderman asked, softer tone taking over as he moved to stand next to his best friend. Leaning down, and biting his lower lip to keep the pain back, the spider wrapped his friend's arm around his neck and lifted him up, starting to walk away from the battlefield and the prone form of the Goblin.
"Come on, let's get you home."
"Wait," Harry choked out, half-heartedly trying to keep the hero from dragging him out of the junkyard. He needed to find out who the Goblin had been... who he had killed... and he didn't beat around the bush when he spoke next. "I need to see who he is."
Spiderman hesitated. Was that a good idea? He didn't think so. Finding out he'd killed his own father would hurt Harry more than the pumpkin bomb had. But, for reasons unknown, the web-slinger loosened his grip, an action that would undoubtedly allow Harry to escape from his grasp. Silently, he wondered if Harry would forgive his alter ego if he found out it was his father. But that was selfish, and reprimanded himself for even thinking about that.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
And with that, the auburn-haired youth moved over to his father's fallen form, each step causing him pain. Holding his ruined wrist to his chest, he lowered himself to kneel the ground to the aid of his good hand. For a moment, he just sat there, fearing what he would find under the unbroken jaden mask. Then, time passing in slow motion, he took a deep breath and reached for the small golden clasps that held the mask in place.
Snapping them open, he used his unharmed hand to pull the mask away and what he saw made his eyes widen in shock. The Green Goblin was his father? No. No, it wasn't possible. His father wasn't a lunatic. His father would never have tried to hurt him, or Peter, or MJ. But even in his denial, the face of his father staring up at him blankly - features locked in death - made so much sense. The odd laughter at times that drifted through the Osborn Manor. The argument he and his father had gotten into over Mary Jane at Thanksgiving. The strange disappearance of the green demon after his father's 'death'. Hell, even the comment the Goblin had made about him being the death of his father. It all fit perfectly.
And now, not only did he have blood on his hands, but it was his father's blood.
Now, he had been the death of both his parents - his mother in childbirth and his father now.
"No," he whispered, tears and rain mingling freely on his cheeks.
"I'm sorry."
He really hadn't meant for it to turn out this way. He was a hero, he was supposed to save people. And, in a way, he supposed he had saved Norman. He trusted that there was no way the man would have wanted his son dead by his own hands. Death meant freedom for him. But that was dumb. No life should have been claimed. Why couldn't he save everyone? Why?
"I'm truly sorry." He whispered, letting the wind carry his words to the younger Osborn. He stood there a moment, letting the boy grieve as he diverted his eyes from the scene. "You need medical attention Harry. Come on."
Nodding dumbly, he stood, his eyes remaining fixed on his father for a moment before meeting Spiderman's hidden gaze. "What about him?"
"I'll come back for him after I drop you off." He stated softly, moving to take Harry's arm once more. "And I'll return him to your home. Just as I did before." He stopped for a moment, turning to meet Harry's gaze. "Is that fine with you?"
"Fine," Harry choked out, emotion making speech hard.
With a nod, the stronger of the two men started off, carrying Harry toward the exit. "I know it hurts... but try not to let that consume you," he muttered to Harry as they reached the exit of the junkyard. God, did his shoulder hurt. Struggling to breathe and unable to use his arm, Spiderman paused for a moment, catching his breath as he glanced around the street. Hopefully, no one would see him.
"I think I might have to call you a cab." He joked, starting his trudge toward the hospital once more.
Harry forced a smile. It was true. He couldn't let the fact that he had killed his father take over his life. But it was so damned hard. Was this how Peter had felt when his Uncle Ben had died? Harry didn't want to think about it. And speaking of Peter, what was he going to tell his best friend? Was he going to spill the truth... let his roommate know that Norman Osborn had really been the Green Goblin? Or would he keep it to himself, knowing that in the past he had trusted peter with everything? He didn't know, and the thought itself wiped the false grin off of the younger Osborn's face.
"I... I can get to the hospital myself if you want to go back..."
"Let me walk you a few more blocks. That way, I'll know you're in a... 'safer' neighborhood," Spiderman replied as he kept moving, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll be fine, but you... I'd worry to much about you to get there and back safe."
"Thanks. But why? I mean, I tried to kill you..."
"Despite what you thought, I save people. It's my job," he answered jokingly, a light chuckle escaping his still bleeding lips as he glanced at Harry out the corner of his eye. "Besides, I know what it's like to lose a father... and I know that under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have acted like that." Harry was his best friend after all. Not that Spiderman could ever tell him that.
And at that, Harry simply nodded, unsure how to answer or if he even wanted to in the first place.
"Here you are." Spiderman stopped his walk and removed Harry's arm from his neck, before backing away slowly. "Make sure you get yourself to a hospital fast." The hero stated, turning to leave.
"Sure," he mumbled, turning away from the hero and moving in the direction of the hospital only to pause before taking too many steps. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again. Then, taking a deep breath, he tried once more, this time finding his voice.
"...I'm sorry you couldn't save my father... But... I know you tried..."
It was the closest thing the hero would ever get to an apology from Harry Osborn.
Underneath his burnt and tearing mask, the super spider smiled, a genuine smile that hadn't found his face for God knew how long. He didn't reply, too caught up with the fact that Harry had actually 'apologized' to say anything, but nodded to show he'd heard and understood. Continuing his slow walk, Spiderman watched Harry over his shoulder for a few minutes before turning full round and heading back to the junkyard, one thing in mind.
Norman Osborn's body.
