Chapter Eleven: The Darkest Night
An hour later...
Rosie was pacing in the living room, waiting for news on what may have happened to her husband. She was awfully frightened; the police scanner had crackled to life several hours ago, reporting on an alleged sighting somewhere near the Ninety-second Precinct.
Finally, the phone rang, and she ran over to it, hoping to hear some good news for a change.
"Yes, this is Rosie..."
It was Det. Briscoe on the other line.
"Mrs. Octavius, this is Det. John Briscoe of the Ninety-second Precinct. We need you to come down to Midtown General. We found him."
A sudden fear overtook her; Briscoe sounded unusually grim now, and she picked up on it.
"I'll be right there. But what's-"
"The captain will tell you when you get here." he said, before hanging up.
She was extremely afraid now; why would Briscoe sound that downcast, unless...?
She ran out of the house, not even bothering to grab her coat. At that moment, she knew that only one thing could have happened to him...
xxx
Ten minutes later, she burst through the front doors of Midtown General Hospital. She had run the entire way; she didn't bother wasting time hailing a taxi.
She ran up to the receptionist's desk and said, "Excuse me, I was called here about ten minutes ago?"
The receptionist looked at her and asked, "And you are..."
"Oh, sorry... um, a man by the name of Otto Octavius was brought in within the last hour. Do you know-"
"Upstairs. He's in the ICU." the receptionist replied, without looking up at her. "I'm assuming you're the woman that detective called earlier?"
Rosie ran upstairs without answering the question. Four floors later, she found the captain standing outside a room.
Capt. Stacy saw her and motioned for her to come over. When she got over to him, she asked, "How is he doing?"
The Capt. looked down at the floor and said, "Well... he's in pretty bad shape. He was shot in the chest twice. One of the wounds was quite serious; it was a lung shot. He has two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, as well. He also appears to have a pretty bad concussion, like he was struck in the head with something. He's... still unconscious right now."
Rosie put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob and said, "My God... what happened to him!"
The Capt. hesitated a moment before saying, "He was in a fight with Norman Osborn. It would appear that, in the course of the fight, Osborn shot him and beat him pretty badly. And... we found Osborn dead at the scene."
At that, tears came to her eyes; he had actually murdered Osborn! She didn't want to believe it, but how else...?
"The entire room was engulfed in flames when we got there..." the Capt. continued. " Osborn himself was on fire. Otto was lucky; we got there before the flames reached him. We think he'll be here a few weeks, but ultimately, he'll recover. But..." here, the captain hesitated again, before continuing, "...there's still the matter of Osborn's death. I know this may not be the best time to tell you, but it was clear that he did not die by accident. I'm sorry to tell you this, but... we found marks from the mechanical arms that Otto was wearing on Osborn's body, and his neck was broken. It was no accident. We'll have to wait until he wakes up to question him, but we'll probably have to charge him with murder."
She couldn't take hearing this. How could he have done this! She fell to her knees, her head in her hands, tears rolling down her face. She just couldn't believe that Otto would do something like this; that he was even capable of murder! There had to be some kind of explanation for all this!
The Capt. was silent a moment before he asked, "...Would you like to see him?"
She didn't speak, but she nodded in the affirmative as the captain helped her to her feet, and he led her into the room.
Octavius was lying there, unusually pale against the pillow, rather scratched up. His left arm was in a sling, and his chest was heavily bandaged. His actuators were lying on a table across the room, motionless.
Rosie walked over to him and stood there a moment, before gently placing a hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, fighting back a sob. How could he have done something like that? That didn't sound like the Otto Octavius that she knew. She didn't want to believe that he was capable of taking a human life; he must not have been in his right mind.
Maybe Curt's death unleashed something in him that he had fought to keep back all of those years, she thought sadly. She remembered what he had once told her about what happened to his mother; maybe it was the way he felt, thinking he was responsible for the deaths of two people close to him? Maybe he felt he had to make up for his mistakes?
"I'd like to stay in here with him tonight." she said to Capt. Stacy, who was standing in the doorway. "I want to be here for him when he wakes up."
"I understand." he replied. "I'll be back in the morning." With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. She pulled a chair beside his bed and sat down. She took his hand in hers, listening to the soft, if rough, sound of his breathing.
How did it ever come to this? she thought as the night wore on, and she started getting tired. She refused to go to sleep, however, until she knew that he was alright.
xxx
5:03 am...
In the back streets of the city, a shadowy figure was trying to find a place to hide for the night. It was unbearably cold, and her coat was not exactly enough to keep out the cold, now.
She walked down the back streets with a noticeably pained look in her eyes; every time she took a step, the twin bullet wounds in her chest would send a jolt of pain up her side.
But there was nothing she could do about it. Not now.
Not after what she'd done.
She was surprised that she hadn't already been caught. Surely by now they'd have realized what she'd done.
Then again, she was intelligent enough to avoid whatever law enforcement came after her.
But tonight, it looked like maybe, intelligence would not be enough.
A flashlight cut through the shadows, falling on her. A voice cried out, "STOP RIGHT THERE!"
She did no such thing. She took off running, clawing for the pistol in her pocket, praying she wouldn't have to use it.
Unfortunately, before she could get away, one of the officers had tackled her, knocking her to the ground. Instantly, a flash of pain unlike no other tore through her at the impact, and she had to keep from crying out.
The officer pulled her to her feet and forced her hands behind her. Another officer ran a flashlight up and down her, noticing the bullet holes in the coat she was wearing.
"I think we've got our girl." the second officer said.
She merely looked down at the ground, an angry, defeated look in her eyes.
"What's your name?" the first officer asked.
She did not respond.
"He asked what your name was." the second officer repeated, sterner. "Look, it will be easier for all of us, especially yourself, if you just cooperate."
Not looking up at him, she muttered something under her breath. Neither of the officers quite understood what she said.
"Can you repeat that?" the second one asked.
She glared up at the cop, who took a step back.
"I said my name is Carolyn Trainer."
The two cops looked at each other and nodded.
"In that case, we'll need you to come with us, then." the first cop said, escorting her to the car that sat idling on the side of the road. The cop cuffed her hands behind her back and put her in the back of the car. They got in the front of the car and drove towards the station.
"Alright, we're here." the second officer said. "We just need to ask you some questions. Think you can answer them for us?"
Once again, she muttered something under her breath.
"Can you repeat that?"
Carolyn looked up at the officers, venom in her stare.
"I said that you can kiss my ass."
xxx
Finally, it was nearing dawn. Rosie was still fighting off sleep as she watched the sun rise over the city.
Then, she heard a low groan, and his hand tightened around hers. She looked over at him, and was a little surprised to find him looking back at her, his eyes only half-open.
"Hi." she said, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Welcome back."
It was a moment before he replied, in a quiet voice, "H-Hi... how'd I end up here?"
"You were brought here last night." she said, her voice shaking slightly. "You were in pretty bad shape. I'm just glad you're alive. I was so scared..." Here, a tear slipped down her cheek as she said, "...when I got the call that you were found, I... I thought they were going to say you had died. I couldn't handle it if anything ever happened to you."
He looked away for a moment and said, "I didn't mean to worry you... I just did what needed to be done. If I hadn't done something, we would never be able to live our lives normally, and eventually, he would have caught up with me. I couldn't let that happen."
So it wasn't just that he was trying to avenge Curt's death; he was trying to protect the both of them. But why'd he have to kill someone to do it?
"I know, I know..." she whispered, tears running down her face. "I just don't know what's going to become of you, now. They're talking about charging you with murder for what happened. You could wind up in prison."
It took him a moment to reply, "Well, even if I do, at least you'll be safe. That's all that matters."
"No, that's not all that matters!" she replied. "I never wanted you to endanger yourself on my behalf! We could have left the city, started our lives over somewhere else! It never had to come down to you killing someone to protect us! Now you're lying here, seriously injured, because of something you thought you had to do, but you didn't!"
The room was silent for a moment before he sat up and said, getting louder with each word spoken, "I knew going into this what it could entail! I knew that it could very well mean death for me! But that doesn't matter to me! You could have gotten caught in the crossfire, in an attempt on my life! I can't bear the thought of being indirectly responsible for the deaths of three innocent people! I-" he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, as by now he was screaming, "I can't live with that! First my mother, then Curt; I can't live with the thought of being responsible forthree lives that were cut short too soon for being associated with me!"
"It was not your fault that they died!" she said, trying to talk some sense into him. "You were not responsible for their deaths!"
"But if they were not associated with me, they would still be alive now!" he shouted, a note of anguish in his voice. "If I had not gotten into that argument with my mother, she would still be alive! If I hadn't asked Curt to come with me to Moscow to find you, the Chameleon would not have even known who he was! Those people died because of me!"
"Otto, things happen that cannot be controlled! Why do you keep blaming yourself for this?" she said as she leaned over him so she could look him in the eyes. "You're a brilliant man; how can you not understand what I'm trying to tell you? Things happen in this world that no one can foresee, let alone avoid! You didn't know the Chameleon was going to pull a gun on Curt in that fight! And as to your mother, she was probably on the verge of a heart attack anyways! She must have been rather old when she died; I mean, you're twenty-seven, so she had to be somewhere in her fifties or sixties! People can't cause other people to have a heart attack, no matter how heated your argument with her may have been! You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to them!"
"You can't understand how I feel about this!" he replied, still shouting. "You've never been through what I have! You don't know the feeling of having someone you know, or someone you love, endangered, just because they know you! You-" here, he broke off in a coughing fit, and it was several seconds before he got himself under control enough to continue, "You can't imagine what it feels like! Knowing every day that those you hold closest to you are endangered because of you! Knowing that, if they die, it is ultimately your fault!"
Rosie averted her gaze, noticing the heart rate on the telemetry. It was dangerously high, and it alarmed her greatly.
"Please, you need to calm down before you hurt yourself worse!" she said, looking at him pleadingly. "I know I can't understand what you've gone through. But I'm trying to help."
She gently pushed him back down in the bed and said, "I know what you've been through, and I can only imagine how it has to have affected you. I'm just trying to get you to understand. You are not responsible for the deaths of either of them. Surely, somewhere in that formidable mind of yours, you must understand this?"
He did not reply as he looked away. She looked away as well, her face red from crying.
"I suppose I do." he finally said, in a voice so quiet Rosie could barely hear his response. "I just... I can't bear the thought of losing anyone else I'm close to. If you died in any of the attempts on my life... it would kill me, Rosie. I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."
She looked back at him, noticing for the first time the tears in his eyes. She had never seen him crying before; not over something like this.
She looked him in the eyes for a moment, noticing the pain in his eyes over the way his life had been. From his hard childhood, to the death of his mother, to the death of his best friend, from the events that had led him here. How he even stayed sane after all that had happened to him was a mystery.
"I understand." she said, fighting back a sob. "I understand completely. I can't lose you either. If anything happened to you, I... I couldn't live with it! I just... I can't live without you!" Here, she leaned down further and pressed her lips to his. She couldn't bear the thought of life without him, and she knew he felt the same; if not because of what he said, then because of his actions. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. He couldn't believe she still wanted him after all he had done; he had murdered four people in one week, and she didn't care. He had endangered himself, had been seriously injured on several occasions now, all trying to protect her. Perhaps this was why she stayed with him? Maybe she saw him as some type of wounded soul underneath it all? Maybe that was an answer he would never know. Not that it mattered now. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. Even if he died protecting her... if she was safe, he would give his life. Perhaps she knew this.
When finally they separated, he said, "I can't live without you either. Why do you think I do the things that I do to protect you?"
She did not have time to reply, because as she went to say something, Capt. Stacy entered the room.
"Oh, Doctor, you're awake." the Capt. said as he stood in the doorway. "I know it's early and you've no doubt just woken up, but we really need to talk."
"If you're talking about Osborn's death, yes, I killed him." Octavius said, lying back in the bed, not yet looking at the captain. "But it was in self-defense."
"That's… not what I heard." the Capt. said, taking a seat with a notepad in hand. "From what I was told, you were going to hunt him down."
"I was, at first." Octavius replied, looking over at him. "But then I decided that instead of killing him, I would capture him myself, turn him over to your department and hope that maybe you would actually be able to hold him this time." This, of course, was not entirely true, but what was the use of telling the captain that Osborn didn't truly deserve to live after what he had done to the city?
"Really?" The Capt. asked, sounding somewhat surprised. "But if that's so, how do you explain the deaths of the Vulture and that Kraven character?"
"They were sent to assassinate me." Octavius said, looking out the window. "They were working for Osborn. They were taking his orders, and his orders were to have me eliminated. I didn't mean to kill either of them. But I just... I wasn't going to let them kill me. But Osborn found me himself, knocked me out, and brought me to his hideout, so he could destroy me himself."
So that explains why we found him in Osborn's building, the Capt. thought. It could very well be self-defense, now that he knew more of the story. But there was still the matter of the fourth man involved; that Tombstone character.
"And might you know of anything leading to the death of a man who went by the alias 'Tombstone'?" the captain asked. "He doesn't look like one of your enemies."
"I don't know who you're talking about." Octavius replied, and the captain knew by the look on his face that he was telling the truth.
"Well, Tombstone was another one of Osborn's assassins, apparently. He went after your wife, but someone else was killed in the attempt, apparently trying to protect her."
"And who might this someone be?" Octavius asked, confused. Someone had been sent after Rosie?
The captain looked down at his file and said, "Apparently a young woman by the name of Carolyn Trainer. She managed to shove Rosie out of the way of the gunfire. She was not able to avoid it herself."
Octavius closed his eyes tightly; another life cut short for being associated with him. And one with so much potential...
"When did this happen?" he asked, saddened by what he was hearing.
"Only three days ago." the captain replied. "I take it you knew her?"
"She was my lab assistant." Octavius replied, opening his eyes and looking at Rosie.
The captain was silent a moment before continuing. "I see. Well, we never did find her body, as we heard about what happened from Rosie. We searched the scene, but she was gone. Shortly after, Tombstone was found shot dead in an alley a few blocks from the lab. We have no suspects in that shooting death though."
Just then, another officer walked in the room and said, "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we found the person who murdered that Tombstone guy. Our guys brought her in about an hour ago."
"Well, speak of the devil." the Capt. said, under his breath. "Did she give you her name?"
"Yeah, but I don't remember what it was." the officer said. "I think it was Carol or Carolyn or something like that."
At that, Octavius and Rosie looked at each other, eyes wide. Could it be-?
The captain was silent a moment before he said, "I'll be right back." He left the room, probably to find a phone. The room was silent until he returned, a bemused smile on his face.
"It would appear as though your lab assistant is still alive." the captain said. "And that she has quite the vengeful streak."
"You're kidding me!" Octavius said, looking over at the captain.
"No, I'm not." the Capt. Replied, unable to hide his amusement, however serious the situation. "It would appear that Tombstone was shot by none other than Carolyn Trainer herself."
At that, Rosie, despite the seriousness of the situation, had to keep from laughing, and Octavius asked, "So she survived?"
"Apparently." the captain said. "Either that, or the person sitting down at the station is her identical twin. It took them a while to get her to talk, but she says she's willing to give her side of the story. Said she'd been found unconscious in an alley, presumably from blood loss, by a man who said he'd once worked as a medical attendant for Osborn's lab. Think she said his name was Mendel Stromm. That name sound familiar to you?"
At that, Octavius couldn't help but shake his head in bemusement; he did know who Stromm was. He'd been in a very similar situation, and Mendel had found him out cold, outside his apartment.How ironic, he thought, and strangely appropriate.
"Anyways, she's sitting down at the station now, being questioned. She'll probably be locked up a while, though." the Capt. continued.
"I understand." Octavius said. "How long do you think I'm going to be here?"
"I'd say, at the minimum, two weeks." the captain said. "You do know the extent of your injuries?"
"I have some idea."
"Well..." the Capt. said as he grabbed the clipboard off of the desk, "...when you were brought here at twelve fifty-three pm last night, you had a dislocated shoulder, two cracked ribs, a moderate concussion, and two gunshot wounds to the chest. One of them was a lung shot. They got that stitched and cleaned up, and it should be fine now. The other shot was not as serious. You were also diagnosed as being in a state of severe exhaustion. They said they don't know how you managed to stay on your feet, much less fend off his attack." The captain hesitated before continuing, "Even so, when you came in, they gave you only a fifty/fifty chance for survival."
Octavius could not find the words to respond; he was that bad off?
"They say you should make a complete recovery, when all is said and done." Capt. Stacy continued. "We'll worry then about what to do about the entire situation with Osborn's death and those of the Vulture and Kraven. But I can offer a ray of hope; considering what you've told me, we may be able to plead self-defense."
"I should hope so." Octavius replied, looking up at the ceiling, still unable to believe what the captain had told him.
"I have a few other details to take care of at the precinct." Capt. Stacy said, walking towards the door. "You're an intelligent man; I know I can trust you not to run, so I'll leave you in her capable hands." he finished, pointing at Rosie with his thumb before walking out the door.
Octavius was silent a moment before he looked over at Rosie and said, "Was I really in that bad of a condition when I was brought here?"
"I'm afraid so." she said. "But at least we know you'll be fine now."
Octavius did not respond to this. His mind flashed back to the last week, and how much he had probably lost because of it. His best friend, his lab assistant, who would surely be locked up, most surely his freedom...
...but he did not lose Rosie. That's what was important to him.
He took her by the hand and said, "How do you put up with me? This is the third time I've been mixed up in a situation like this. And now I've taken a human life. How do you do it?"
She looked down at him, and it was a moment before she replied, "Because you're the only person I can imagine living my life with. I can't imagine living life without you. I realized this back when I was in Moscow, a year ago. How alone I felt..." She tried to fight back the tears that menaced her, but before she knew it, she found herself crying, tears rolling down her face, her body wracked with sobs. He put his uninjured arm around her, catching her in an embrace. She put her head on his shoulder, trying to get herself under control enough to stop crying, but she was just not able to.
When finally she stopped crying, he said quietly, "If it's any consolation, I feel the same way about you."
She only looked down at him for a moment, before leaning back down, kissing him again, more passionately than she did earlier. By way of this alone, he knew that she meant it. The two of them could not go on without the other. This thought hung in the air between them as the sun came up, setting the red sky ablaze, dispelling the shadows of the black night that their lives had nearly become.
