Chapter 2: Acceptance

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any of its characters. What am I, Stan Lee?

A Note From The Author: Alright, well here it is, the second chapter. I tried to alter the First Chapter just a bit, but the site wasn't hearing it. At any rate, there should be some kind of a line or that little three star thing or something to show separation between the whole Daily Bugle part and everything else. I think it was supposed to be just before the first "'Parker!'" and after "'You must be getting better'". Oh, well. Not major, really. Thanks to all my reviewers, I appreciate that they took the time to review. Now, without further ado, Chapter Two!

Chapter 2: Acceptance

Harry Osborn held his head in his hands as he sat on the floor of one of his mansion's studies. Harry was the same age as Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson. He was tall and lean, with brown hair and intense, burning eyes.

Harry had been best friends with both Peter and Mary Jane for a very long time. And, although after high school, the trio saw each other much less, they considered one another to be the best of friends. However, with the death of his father, Norman Osborn, president of the great company Oscorp, Harry had changed. He had a bitter hatred for Spider-Man, who he suspected had killed his father. He was constantly nagging Peter about taking pictures of Spider-Man.

And then the fateful day came when Harry had Spidey captured and brought to the mansion. With dagger in hand, he pulled back the mask that covered the face of Peter Parker, his best friend. Neither Pete nor Mary Jane had heard from Harry since then.

The truth was that nobody had heard from Harry, aside from his living necessities. He had given into a solitary state. He still did some work for Oscorp, but the only way he transferred documents to colleagues and clients was through faxing. Aside from his unusual state of living (that had been going on only for a month), he was almost ashamed of Oscorp, for the company had provided funding for Dr. Otto Octavius, whose self-sustaining fusion experiment had gone horribly wrong, causing four mechanical arms to become welded to his body. This hideous sight also gave way for Manhattan's newest supervillian, Doc Ock, so lovingly named by J. Jonah Jameson. Octavius was now floating in the water just under where a second try at the futile experiment had been conducted. He was vanquished by Spider-Man, of course.

The night of Octavius's death, Harry had indeed pulled back Spidey's mask only to find his best friend's face behind it. Now he didn't know what to think. Peter was his best friend; he loved him like a brother. But Peter killed Harry's father! After releasing Peter, Harry had seen his father's moving, speaking image standing in a mirror. Norman demanded that Harry avenge him. His son refused, breaking the mirror. Then came Harry's shock when he found a room containing the mask and suit of the Green Goblin, the villain's glider, several of the physical enhancers his father had worked with, and hundreds of his tiny, pumpkin resembling bombs behind the mirror.

Harry's first feeling was obviously of shock. Then he wondered whether his father was truly the Green Goblin. He must have been. But how could he kill all those people? How could he try to kill his own son's best friend? And even though Peter had to stop him, he was still incredibly enraged. Evil or not, Norman was Harry's father. And now a month later, Harry sat on the floor, unsure of what to do.

Harry walked to the mirror, which was still shattered, with shards of glass all about. He stepped into the narrow, drafty corridor. The passage lit up with his entrance. The young man went to the mask, picking it up, turning it over in his hands several times. He stared into its gaping yellow eyes, his own eyes widening.

Harry heard shrill laughter all around him. He suddenly felt the urge to try the mask on. He didn't want to. He fought the urge, but the inside of the mask was moving steadily toward his eyes anyway. He inwardly screamed "No!" He fought his arms, but to no avail. He tried to actually scream, but he had no control over his own body. Now the mask was only an inch away from his face. And then it enveloped his whole face, staying in place as his hands fell to his sides.

Now he, too, joined in the maniacal laughter echoing all around him, though he sobbed inwardly. What the hell is happening to me? Eventually he just stopped fighting and watched, horrified as he moved to the rest of the suit, and outstretched his arms. A platform that he was apparently standing on rose slightly, and moved toward the suit. The costume split in half. The two halves moved to either side of Harry, and enclosed around him.

Again, his inner self broke down, but then suddenly stopped crying. It was as if his inner self had disappeared, and everything felt right. He put up no struggle against himself as he went over to the wall of bombs and grabbed six, putting four in various places on his suit. And then the true Harry Osborn was back, screaming to be set free as his body walked over to the glider and put the two remaining bombs into slots at the front of the machine.

What just happened? He asked inwardly. Why did I stop fighting for a minute there? Was I agreeing with what my body was doing? What's happening?

The true Harry, with no control over his body, began to scream and sob again. And then his body began to do the same. The suit and mask automatically came off of him and seemed to replace themselves on the wall, except for the fact that the mask was no longer separate from the body of the suit.

Harry staggered back through the mirror and into his living room. He collapsed on the floor, asleep from pure shock.

Harry woke upon his living room floor with a start.

"What a weird dream", he murmured, frowning. The dream had made him realize how awful his father truly had been and that he could not hold his father's death against Pete. He certainly did not hate his own father, but he was no longer as angry at Peter as he previously was. Now he felt bad for shutting his best friend off completely for the last month. He felt obligated to give his friend a call.

Harry picked up the phone and dialed Peter's apartment, walking around as it rang.

"Hello?" A cheerful voice answered the phone.

"Pete?"

"Harry?" Now Peter was in shock. He would've felt lucky to talk to Harry another time in his life.

"How're things?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Fine… Just fine… How about you? Where have you been? I wasn't ever expecting to hear from you again."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but we can talk about it another time. I'm OK, I just needed some time to put things into perspective. So how're things going with MJ?" Harry paced around the room.

"Great. We're working on planning the wedding date. Should be in a few months."

Harry absentmindedly listened to Peter ramble on about J. Jonah Jameson as he walked toward the mirror. He stepped inside the mirror room and looked around, remembering his nightmare. There was nothing unusual, to his relief. The glider on one side of the room. The bombs on the opposite wall. The suit and mask hanging there harmlessly.

Harry began to step back into his study but did a double take instead. The mask was sitting on top of the costume. Before his dream, the mask was stationed almost across the room. Harry gasped loudly.

"What is it, Harry?" Peter asked in a concerned tone.

"I'm gonna have to call you back later, Pete."

"When? Is something wrong? Did I say something?"

"No, No. I'll talk to you later, Pete," said Harry, hanging the phone up.

It wasn't a dream after all! What the hell is happening to me?

Harry stumbled out of the mirror room, collapsing onto his knees on the study floor. He slapped himself in the face in an attempt to wake up from whatever nightmare he was having. Nothing changed around him, except for the fact that the room began to spin. Tears of agitation and sorrow began flowing down his cheeks. A single long, drawn out scream emitted from his shaking frame: "No!"