Disclaimer: All Spider-Man characters are property of Marvel. Phantom of the Opera themes are property of LeRoux.

Author's Note: Y'know, description is hard to maintain when the characters are actually doing something. I only seem to be able to be really descriptive when there's a lot of emotion and no action involved. I wonder why that is? And I'm not happy with how this chapter came out; I've had it done the past two days and went through it every night, tweaking bits, and it still isn't quite right. This is a 'filler' chapter, and it shows.

I don't know when the next chapter of 'Moonlight Becomes You' is going up; apparently, there's some holiday this weekend that I forgot about completely and I'll be going home, where I won't have internet access, and won't even have my laptop with me, so I won't even be able to work on MBY. By the way, I suggest checking out this chapter in my deviantART account; vorkosigan has done a gorgeous picture of scarred Otto, and I've included the link to it on dA. Check it out!

Musique de la Nuit

Six – Ache

Eve had wanted to go with Rosie to see Peter Parker, after she'd seen how distraught her aunt had been after coming back from seeing Curt the previous day, but she couldn't get time off work. Rosie had been treated to Eve's tirade about the evils of jobs, but it was half-hearted. Getting a summer job had been her father's idea; he felt that she needed to learn responsibility. Eve had complained that she had everything she needed and therefore didn't need a job during her summer break from school, so Michael had given her a choice: Eve could get a job and become a well-rounded individual, or he could spoil her rotten and pay for everything, and she could end up like Paris Hilton. Eve hadn't been able to find a job fast enough after that, and had vowed never to skip a day.

That didn't mean she wouldn't complain about it. Rosie loved her niece dearly, but she was glad to be on her own again, going out, doing things for herself… She'd never liked being coddled; it was why she'd been able to share her life with a man who spent most of the day locked up in a lab, or was sometimes too lost in thought to lavish attention on her like some wives demanded… No, she prided herself on her independence, and she chafed under Michael's protection.

Maybe she could understand why Eve complained, after all…

Rosie patiently waited outside Curt's office, watching the halls fill as classes ended. A few minutes after 1:40, Curt came down through the double doors leading from the stairs and smiled when he spotted her. She smiled back, relieved. If Curt looked happy, then he'd probably gotten a hold of Peter. This was proven when, a few seconds later, Peter emerged behind him. She saw the youth's brow furrow when he saw her, then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. So Curt hadn't told him why he wanted Peter to come to his office. It was Curt's little way of getting revenge on his oft-absent student. His shock answered one of Rosie's questions; if he hadn't known she was alive, then he hadn't sent her the newspaper clippings, either. So who had?

"Mrs. Octavius?" Peter spluttered. The boy's shock was charming. "You… I saw… you're…"

"Hi, Peter," Rosie said warmly. She waited a moment to let him recover his composure. "I'm glad you came."

Curt cleared his throat. "I've got students to see," he said apologetically, nodding towards the line forming outside his office. "Martha wants to know if tomorrow at seven is a good time for dinner."

"That would be lovely," she said, and, satisfied, Curt disappeared into his office. She couldn't wait; it would be nice to have dinner with friends again. For now, though… She turned to Peter. "Have you had lunch? I seem to recall there are some nice cafes on campus."

The youth squirmed uncomfortably. "I can't really afford…" he began, voice ashamed.

"I'll buy. In return, I want some information."

Peter looked unsurprised. "You mean, about your husband," he said delicately.

"Let's talk about this over lunch," Rosie said, glancing around at the crowded hall. "Anywhere you recommend?"

Peter escorted her to a small place in the basement of the science hall; there was a scattering of tables amidst potted plants that created an illusion of privacy. The food smelled good, and Rosie and Peter ordered, then took their food trays found the seat furthest from the chattering students.

Peter ate like he was starving; she was going to give him a few moments to scarf down most of his food before she began to question him in earnest. She was rather surprised when he chose to begin, rather than waiting. "How did you survive? The medics acted like you were gone."

Rosie sighed. "I don't know." She toyed with the scarf that hid her scars. "The doctors said it was a miracle. I should have died. It… it's taken a lot of surgery to get me where I am now." And therapy, she didn't add. And I'm still an emotional wreck.

"I'm glad you're alive. Spider-Man was upset he couldn't save you, or…" Peter trailed off. He kept his gaze averted, and she wondered why he seemed to be taking Spider-Man's guilt upon himself.

"So you do talk to Spider-Man."

Peter nodded. "That's why you wanted to talk to me, right? We're not real close; he lets me take his photos, and he'll sometimes tell me the real story behind what happens, not the libel you read in papers like the Bugle."

The real story… Is he implying there's something about Otto that no one else knows? She was almost afraid to find out. "I have to know about Otto," she said, her voice cracking. "If there's something you know that I don't, please, tell me. Even if you don't think I'll like it."

"Where do you want me to begin?"

"Do you know why he did it?" she asked desperately. "My Otto… My Otto wouldn't do anything like this! He's not a criminal!" She wanted him to tell her that this was all a mistake, that it wasn't Otto.

"He was trying to rebuild," Peter said. "He rebuilt the reactor, made it bigger. I think he robbed the bank to pay for materials. And he kidnapped my girlfriend to lure Spider-Man into a trap so he could trade Spider-Man for tritium. Everything he did was motivated by the need to rebuild – because the tentacles told him to."

"The inhibitor chip," Rosie said. "The actuators were programmed for the sole purpose of assisting Otto with the experiment, and with the chip gone, the AI would have been free to invade his mind." She shuddered; she'd begged him to find another way. The thought of Otto hooking another intelligence into his nervous system had frightened her. He'd assured her that with the chip, nothing could happen…

"Yeah; I'm assuming it shorted out during the accident, because right after that was when…" Peter fell silent. When he went crazy, Peter didn't finish. But he didn't have to. Rosie pushed her food around her plate; she'd lost her appetite.

"So they took over his mind, forced him to do things that hurt people, and Spider-Man had to kill him." Rosie's shoulders slumped.

"Spider-Man didn't kill him," Peter said, and for a moment, Rosie felt a surge of hope. Is Otto still alive? "They fought, and during the battle, Dr. Octavius received another electrical shock that shorted out the tentacles, long enough for Spider-Man to talk to the real Dr. Octavius. The fusion machine couldn't be shut down, and Spider-Man asked your husband how to stop it. He fought the influence of the tentacles, and volunteered to do it himself, by drowning it in the East River. Even though it meant that the 'sun' would boil the river water, and that pulling it down would be suicide."

Rosie didn't know what to say. Peter continued. "He was a hero, even though none of the papers believed Mary Jane's accounts about what happened." Peter's voice was sorrowful. "He redeemed himself, in the end, but the papers didn't want the truth, just accounts of an epic battle between good and evil – or between evil and evil, depending on which paper you read."

"You're not making this up to make me feel better?" Rosie didn't dare believe.

"I swear, this is what Spider-Man and Mary Jane told me," he said seriously. "They have no reason to lie about it."

She studied him closely. He didn't look like he was lying. She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. It didn't change what her husband had done, but it did ease the ache in her heart. Otto may have done terrible things under the influence of the actuators, but he'd died as the good man she had known and loved.

XXX

Darkness fell, though one would ever know it in New York. Long before sunset, the light of the sun had been eclipsed by the city's unnatural glow. The shadowed alleys were perhaps the only places in the city to experience true darkness. Even streetlamps dared not cast light upon whatever went on in those narrow passages. Only the homeless or petty criminals frequented the dark, claustrophobic canyons that cut through the city. They were the perfect setting for Otto's nocturnal haunts.

Otto wrapped shrouding black cloth more tightly about himself, wincing as the movement sent pain shooting through his skull. The headache had been building steadily for the last fifteen minutes, and the agony would have been blinding had he not already suffered from that condition. The actuators chittered worriedly from beneath the folds of concealing cloth, urging him to sever the camera link and let them take him back. Otto ignored their concern, and they eventually fell silent. Later, he'd hit a pharmacy and help himself to something that would dampen the pain. Now, though, he needed to ignore his pain, to find his limits. He needed to know how long he could last before the pain became too much for him, and how far he could push his battered body before it reached that limit. The months of convalescing had left him woefully out of shape, making his breath come faster and his muscles ache from the exertion.

The camera gave everything a bright, washed out look, and it lacked both depth perception and peripheral vision. Otto was still forced to reach out and touch to properly gauge distances. And there was a fuzzy quality to faces that made them difficult to focus on, unless he was close. It reminded him, strangely, of descriptions of angels: luminous, as if lit with an inner light, with vague features. If Otto were a religious man, he might have seen it as some sort of sign from God. He wondered what Rosie would look like to his artificial eye; perhaps she would glow brightest of all.

Otto slunk through the shadows, a dark shape in the blackness. Only the white of his mask picked up what little light ventured into the alley. He ran his gloved hand along the siding of the building to his left as he made his way to the alley mouth. He paused, considering his options as he peered out, leaning against the brick as he caught his breath. He'd reached the end of this system of alleys; should he return to his lab, or venture further? His skull pounded, and he knew he should go back. But he'd come this far…

Where was he? It looked like one of the wealthier districts. With vague surprise, Otto realized he recognized the area. When he'd set out, he'd chosen a direction at random, but somehow, he'd ended up close to the section of the city where his brother-in-law Michael lived.

The place where Rosie now lived.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart beat faster at the realization that she was so close. Another fifteen minutes and he could… he could…

He could what? See her? Now that he was so close to her, despair set in. Assuming he could get to Michael's building unseen – a process that would require him to cross a busy section of city unnoticed – he'd have to climb to the penthouse via actuator, which would attract attention in an area so densely populated. And then he'd have to slip inside, find whatever room Rosie was in because this late at night she'd surely be in bed, and then… then what? Watch her as she slept? Awaken her with a kiss? She'd take one look at his nightmarish visage and scream.

His shoulders slumped. He had to find a way to see her again, to ease the ache in his heart, but it couldn't be this way. Why am I torturing myself like this? Why can't I just accept that she's lost to me? That she wouldn't want me anyway, now that she knows the truth? Otto clenched his fists as a wave of loneliness made him feel weak. I want her… I want her so badly…

His thoughts were taking him down a dangerous path; if he pursued them, it would lead him along a downward spiral, down into the darkness inside of him. He needed a distraction, and he needed one now. He should go home; without the promise of Rosie at the end of his venture, Otto's agoraphobia began to reassert itself. He refused to let it control him… Well, the streets beyond this alley were lined with closed shops that would have been too upscale for him in his previous lives; perhaps he'd help himself to some of the merchandise. After a quick check to ascertain that no one was in the immediate vicinity, Otto detached himself from the shadows.

He wasted no time selecting a shop; he'd draw attention if he spent too much time looking. His choice was a leather store with several expensively dressed mannequins staring out at the empty street, their blank faces reminding Otto of his own masked features.

Otto followed the building around to its employee entrance, and, as they had during the robbery of the grocery store, the actuators disabled the door alarms. This was a better protected store, however; once Otto slipped in, he had to disable another alarm for the store itself, which shut down the camera positioned over the door leading in to the main room of the store. He'd been careful to keep the actuators out of its angle of view, and, though he wanted to smash it, he resisted. The camera was out of reach of a normal person, and he didn't want the police to realize the thief was anything but normal.

The scent of leather was strong, much more overwhelming than he remembered. It was the first time that Otto realized his senses were compensating for his lack of vision. It was a curious feeling, one he would explore when he wasn't in the middle of criminal activities.

His needs were simple; he needed a new pair of boots, as his own were becoming scuffed from the slow, shuffling walk he'd been forced to adapt when he felt his way around. And he wanted a new coat, something large enough to conceal the actuators, thick enough to keep him warm in the coming winter, dark enough to help him blend with the shadows. His own coat had been shabby before his immersion in the East River's boiling waters; after, it had become so damaged its only worth was to cover his scarred body. It provided no warmth, only comfort because of its familiarity.

Otto grabbed a long black leather coat that looked as if it would fit, and a pair of boots. He ripped open the cash register, though he didn't expect to find any money. Nothing; it had all been taken to the bank earlier. That was all right with Otto, since the robbery had had the desired effect: He wasn't thinking about Rosie. Otto bundled the coat and boots and vacated the store. Once he'd reached the safety of his alley mouth, and the adrenaline rush began to fade, the pain from his headache returned a hundredfold, and Otto staggered against the brick with a groan. Such was the pain that Otto gave in to the actuators, shutting down his link with the camera and letting them take him most of the way back to the lab, hugging the shadows to keep out of sight. They only paused once, to break into a small drug store. It was like driving a spike of metal into his skull when he reconnected so he could swipe headache medication.

When he finally staggered into his lab, he collapsed onto his couch without bothering to unwind the cloaking cloth from his body. But even as his head throbbed as if his brain would burst through his skull, Otto felt triumphant. He'd made it halfway across the city with no one seeing his face or the actuators. Better, he'd found he could overcome his agoraphobia, when needed.

Otto rested his head on the couch's arm; only when it made the camera dig into his eye did he realize he still wore the mask. He fumbled with it, yanking it loose, and as he cradled the cold plastic in his hands, his euphoria began to fade. Yes, he was overcoming his handicaps, but what was the point? There was no one to share his triumph with him. And even if he could regain a semblance of his former life, he couldn't do anything with it. He'd still be an outcast, exiled from society forever.

Even if by some miracle he and Rosie ever reunited, he couldn't stand the thought of her being forced to live this kind of life. His Rosie wasn't meant to be kept away from the world, shackled to a monstrous husband. I know this. But why can't I accept this? Why can't I give her up? Why can't I just let her go?

To Be Continued…

Grr… What's wrong with it? This chapter is bugging me, but I can't seem to fix it…