I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise (be cool if I did though!) – just my plot, story OC's, and my main girl Hayley.

Manners had gone in to calm Harry down at her request after Colin seemed too excited at the prospect of restraining the young billionaire. Hayley had returned to the Nurse's station after standing outside his cell, listening to Harry, no, the Goblin, cursing and calling her every name under the sun for a good fifteen minutes. The lawyer had managed to quieten his outburst but had prevented Hayley from re-entering the room – the Goblin was too enraged.

She had tried to distract herself all day by immersing her mind in writing reports on her other patients and organising their treatment plans. Hayley had even stayed later than her usual shift time because she was too scared to leave in case Harry might change his mind and ask for her. She could still see those green rage filled eyes glaring at her. Eyes that had once looked at her like she was beautiful, like she was needed, now haunted her in the dark as she walked home from the nearest subway station. It was like Hayley's subconscious didn't want her to forget the devastated and betrayed anguish that Harry had displayed before throwing the chair. If only she knew why he had reacted that way, then maybe her mind would stop imagining his eyes following her.

She quickened her pace, drawing closer to her apartment.

A block away from the apartment complex, Hayley noticed five cop cars race by, their blue lights brightening the dark gloomy alleyways surrounding her. It had obviously rained during the day because when the final car sped past, it drenched her legs in a puddle of water. This day was just getting worse and worse.

Hayley moved her hand inside her handbag to locate her keys, fingers brushing against Harry's case notebook. Manners had returned it to her an hour after she had fled Room 136, since she had forgot the book during the violent kerfuffle. It was nice that Manners had given back her property but he hadn't spoken a word to her or engaged in eye contact. Just briskly entered the Nurse's station and plopped it onto the desk in front of her, leaving before she could even say a word in response. His unnatural coldness left Hayley feeling uneasy.

Turning the corner, Hayley realised that the blue lights and sirens were not getting further away; in fact, she was coming closer to them.

The cop cars were now parked outside her apartment building with officers surrounding the area. There was a hubbub of activity considering it was a Wednesday evening. Some of the officers and a detective were interviewing Mr Boothroyd and some of the second floor tenants, their hands moving wildly over their flip notebooks trying to record any possible clues. There was also an ambulance with a girl from the third floor, Katie Royle, sitting in the back, paramedics flashing a torch into her eyes. She was talking to another detective, nodding, tears in her eyes and smudged mascara all down her cheeks.

What the heck is going on? Hayley thought.

Mr Boothroyd motioned towards her and she pushed through the numerous people surrounding the sidewalk.

"Hey Mr Boothroyd, what happened? What's going on?"

The old man shook his sadly and nodded towards Katie, "You know first floor got burgled last week? Well, Katie came home and her door was open. Silly girl walked in and found her belongings all over the place. Didn't realise the bastard was still inside." He stopped and looked at Hayley still staring at Katie who was now being ushered into a police car, no doubt going to the station for further questioning. They both watched the cops take Katie away before Mr Boothroyd continued, "When the bastard heard Katie scream, he ran out of her bedroom, knocked her down and stole her purse. Then he did a runner before anyone saw anything useful."

"Did she see his face? Will the police find him?"

"Nah. Wearing a mask or something, maybe a balaclava. Katie's memories foggy 'cause of the concussion, and you know I haven't got the money for security cameras. Stupid cops suggested getting cameras and changing all the locks in the building. I told them, that if they wanted to give me the money, then I happily would! Times are hard Hayley, I haven't got the cash for fifteen stories of locks!" Mr Boothroyd scowled, mainly angry at himself that he couldn't protect his tenants. "I'll tell you the same as I'm telling everyone else; if you want to pay to change the locks on your apartment, then that's fine, just keep me informed."

Hayley nodded, knowing that she and the landlord both knew that not many people would be able to afford buying new door locks. Especially since the building was so old that the whole door would probably have to be replaced. She placed a comforting hand on Mr Boothroyd's arm and walked into the building, wanting nothing more than to escape the huge crowd and just go to sleep.

It took a further fifteen minutes of negotiating with the cops, proving that she was indeed a tenant and would not contaminate the crime scene on the third floor, before she was allowed to leave the foyer.

Before ascending up the stairs to her apartment, Hayley walked to row of lockers underneath the stairwell; Mr Boothroyd was once a school headmaster in his prime, and when going into the property rental business, he had taken some old school equipment to furnish the apartment block. This included small things like stereotypical school clocks in each flat and the foyer, plastic lunchroom chairs in the laundry room, and metal dial combination lockers for each resident's letters and parcels. How Mr Boothroyd remembered all the different number codes, she would never know, but the old man had devised an ingenious way to inform his residents that they'd received mail. Mini red flags, like the ones on suburban mailboxes, were attached to each locker and were erect when the mail had been delivered.

Usually Hayley's mail arrived like clockwork – the dreaded monthly bill day. So it was unusual for her red flag to be waving at her midmonth. Even though she felt excited at the prospect of a letter, Hayley was a tad suspicious because much like she rarely receiving phone calls, no one knew where she lived other than her bill issuers.

Cautiously, she twisted the dial left, the right, then right again, and finally left until the lock clicked open. Her locker contained not a letter but a medium sized pristine white box. On the top was her full name printed in white capitals on a fancy sleek black label. The presentation alone was so formal that Hayley thought there might have been a mistake if her name weren't on it. She also realised that her address was not printed on the label – it had been hand delivered! Who knew where she lived?

Hayley clutched at the box nervously, looking behind her and around the foyer to check that she was semi-alone. Taking a seat on the plastic school chair next to the lockers, Hayley tentatively opened the box, peaking carefully inside in case there was a bomb or a dead rat. She laughed quietly to herself at how stupid she was being because if there was a bomb inside then she was already screwed.

She frowned initially, and then began to shake at seeing the contents, almost dropping it in disbelief. Inside was a large tub of Sliver Sulfadiazine cream and three months worth of Co-codamol and Amitriptyline, all the correct dosage.

How was this even possible?

She took out each medication in turn, inspecting it, and was surprised to see that they even had her patient and hospital details on it. This medication hadn't been stolen or bought from some seedy drug dealer. It was the real deal from New York-Presbyterian Hospital. How could someone other than her procure her personal medication? Wasn't it illegal? And the cost of three months worth did not come cheap let alone one month. This package truly was a gift. A gift that terrified her.

Hidden at the bottom of the box was a note. Hayley put the medication back in box and lifted the note out, holding her breath. Same as the label on the box, the card note had been printed meaning Hayley wouldn't be able to identify the sender's handwriting. The note was simple;

Dear Hayley

from

your friend.

Peter?

But how could it be?

Hayley doubted that as a photographer for The Daily Bugle, Peter Parker would have the necessary connections and detective skills to pull off a stunt like this. Or the money. And, now that she really thought about it, how would Peter have money the to pay her rent on a photographers salary whilst supporting his Aunt May?

Looking back at the note, Hayley had no doubt in her mind that the stranger who paid her rent also sent this package. She flipped the note over seeing if anything else was written on the back. Her face paled.

In the bottom right corner was a bold black logo with a small silver honeycomb pattern beside it; OsCorp.

Harry.

Her mystery benefactor was Harry Osborn.

The breath that was caught in her throat started to become shallow and Hayley gasped for air as reality hit of who her "friend" was. She didn't even question how this would be possible with Harry being in prison because she was certain that Manners must have helped him. Harry Osborn was the most powerful twenty year old in New York, and if he wanted something done then it would be done. He was the only person in her life to have the connections and money to pull off a stunt like this.

The main question was, why was Harry interfering with her personal life and why would he even care? She was nothing to him! She was just a nurse and a psychiatrist, nothing special. So insignificant to him that he even threw a chair at her.

Hayley groaned and put her face in her hands. How could she have been so blind? No wonder Harry threw the chair; he had been angry and had every right to be. She had given Peter credit for his generosity. She felt like a failure.

Guilt washed over her and tears of disappointment rolled down her cheeks. Was she that bad of a therapist to have not realised this sooner? Her behaviour and wrongful assumption had caused Harry to regress. She had brought forth the Goblin's understandable rage at her mistake. Hayley had never felt this bad in her life. She was a disappointment to the medical community, to her degree, and to Harry.

Knowing in her mind that there was nothing she could do to make it right, Hayley sighed forlornly, dragging herself up from where she sat before trudging upstairs with the package from Harry.

When she passed the third floor, Hayley saw that poor Katie's apartment had been blocked off with police tape. At least Hayley could look forward to a banana and noodles in bed, unlike Katie.

God her life really sucked right now.

She felt so terrible about the pain that she had obviously caused Harry that Hayley almost tripped up the last flight, because moving her feet seemed like such a chore.

One question still remained, eating away at her whilst she tried to sleep - what did she mean to Harry Osborn?

"Are you seriously going to mope around all day?" asked the Goblin as he sat on Harry's cell bed.

The boy was being a real ball ache!

Ever since he'd thrown that chair at Ginge, Harry had refused to talk to him, even letting the Goblin have a full blown shouting match with Manners when he had come in to calm them down.

"The games are just beginning Harry, you really need to start playing a few rounds instead of leaving it up to me!"

If Harry was in control of his body he'd have rolled his eyes, "I like playing with people as much as they next guy, heck if life was Monopoly, I'd own every bloody property and hotel on the board! None of this get out of jail free card bullshit! But Hayley's not part of the game, not like those models, she's more – "

"Complicated?"

"No. No, she's not complicated. Models are complicated. It's this situation that's making it complicated," Harry explained exasperatedly. If he and the Goblin were part of the same psyche like Hayley said, then why didn't the green guy bloody understand?

"Oi! I can hear you think, idiot!" the Goblin shook his head and began to inspect his normal looking nails in a manner typical of boredom, "Did you not read the same file as I did? The medical report Manners brought us was fucked up; Ginge brings new meaning to the word complicated."

"Where's your sense of adventure? I thought you like a challenge," Harry goaded.

"Make up your god damn mind! One minute you're sulking because you have to flirt with nurses and can't snog Ginge on a daily basis, and next you're saying its all part of the challenge? Maybe you are bipolar…"

"Will you just shut it!"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," snarled the Goblin, lying back on the bed and closed his eyes to fully focus on their conversation. "Now, not that I care, but since we are in an asylum, would you like to discuss your "feelings"? Come now Harry, let's talk like civilised people."

"Civilised people don't throw chairs at a girl they fancy," Harry hissed, implying that there was nothing remotely civilised about his alter ego.

"Don't fucking sass me! You and I both know how angry you felt knowing she believes Parker paid her rent! Why do you think I came out to play, hmmm? Your anger is what I feed off of, so don't blame it all on me!"

The Goblin was getting really tired of Harry's lack of responsibility for their actions and constant denial for his own feels. He was certain that Harry hadn't been this indecisive before they got locked up in Ravencroft – maybe the isolation was getting to the boy.

"Don't you feel like you over reacted just a little bit?"

"Don't play stupid Harry, it doesn't look good on you."

"If she hadn't been Gwen's friend then, maybe…argh…I don't know! She thinks we killed her! That we took Gwen's life! How the fuck are we meant to move past that?" Harry argued.

"Oh, come on! Is that the root of all this? You feel guilty? How quaint. Such a weakling, just like your father," the Goblin sneered, "Did we kill that blonde bitch? No. Spider-Man did, and – "

"Yes, we know that – she doesn't."

"- and in over a week, Ginge and the whole world will know that Spider-Man is a fraud. That he is guilty for murdering the girl," said the Goblin, confident that their freedom was on the horizon. "She'll come running back, they always do."

Their conversation was cut short by the cell door opening and Manners striding in. He held a bottle of water and a small white pot of tablets.

"Brought you some sweets Mr Osborn."

Over the next four days Manners continued to visit Harry and bring him his daily medication.

Before handing back Hayley's notebook, Manners had taken the liberty of reading it, making his own notes on her observations and treatment techniques. It was then that he discovered her little secret of slipping Harry the drugs Co-codamol and Quetiapine. Manners was rather surprised that a girl as meek and quiet as Hayley would not consult the other doctors before medicating Harry. As a psychiatrist she could prescribe medications, but to not have the drugs known and on his permanent medical file was strange.

Hell, what she was doing was illegal!

However, after reading through her notes he began to realise that the redhead was only trying to protect his client by not properly documenting the medication on Ravencroft's system. Manners agreed that the ever so wonderful Doctor Scott would probably be more aggressive in Harry's treatment if he discovered Hayley's schizophrenia diagnosis.

And after the abuse the lawyer had received from his client during his fit of rage, Manners was inclined to believe that Harry could indeed be schizophrenic.

God the press would have a field day.

So Manners took it upon himself to continue medicating Harry like the girl would in their daily sessions. It had taken him a couple of days to acquire the correct pills from one of his many sources, during which time Harry had began further caving in on himself, nearly attacking Manners. It was only when he had forced Harry to take the medication again that he become convinced that Hayley had been correct in her diagnosis. The Quetiapine, used to treat schizophrenia, was working wonders in calming Harry down. It was all the proof Manners needed to respect Hayley for breaking the law – she truly did have his client's best interests at heart.

Manners would keep everything a secret, even from Hayley, because she needed believe that Harry was fine without her. That way she could make a clean break and distance herself from the Osborn kid – it was the only way they were ever going to win the trial with this whole erotic transference malarkey. The shady lengths he would go to protect Harry Osborn was unprecedented.

That's what Manners was thinking as he listened to Harry barking in his ear about Felicia Hardy's upcoming visit. Since Manners hadn't spoken to Hayley when he returned her notebook, she had left him a note at Ravencroft's reception about Harry's request to see Miss Hardy.

"- I don't even want to see Felicia. Why would you think it a good idea? I thought you had more sense then that!"

"Then why even tell Miss Carmichael to make me arrange it?" Manners queried getting frustrated now, "You asked for this! What was the point?"

"You told me to flirt with other girls! I was trying to make Hayley jealous!" Harry explained, "I didn't really want Felicia to come"

"Well, maybe you can use Miss Hardy's visit to your advantage," advised Manners knowingly.

Harry may have being rich in his favour when making girls swoon, but the lawyer oozed the suave sophistication that only a man in his late thirties could possess – he had more game than the Osborn kid any day.

And when Harry didn't immediately respond to his suggestion, Manners elaborated, "Continue to make the girl jealous Mr Osborn. Make. Her. Jealous. Girls always want a guy more when the green eyed monster is involved, if you'll pardon the expression."

Harry's startling blue eyes flashed, a green tinge appearing and then quickly disappearing, long before Manners had time to really notice it, "You're right Manners. The green eyed monster is a game changer."

When Hayley got to work the next day there was a post-it note on her computer screen. It was from Manners, his usual cursive scrawl telling her that Harry had requested her presence at 10am.

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was already half past nine – the busy subway this morning had made her later than usual. Hayley didn't really know how to feel about the note; on one hand she felt relieved that the Goblin's anger had subsided and that he'd asked for her, but on the other, did she really want to see him after how he treated her?

It didn't really matter what the answer was, because she was a professional and her personal preferences shouldn't even come into the equation. Though, at least now she could thank Harry for his financial aid. That's what Hayley would do. She would thank him and then put a stop to this "thing" between the two of them. Besides, it was pretty clear to her that Harry often had "things" with many girls, his personal assistant included. And obviously Hayley was no exception.

After looking at the clock again, she saw that she had ten minutes to get to the West wing. Hayley breathed deeply, in and out, trying to prepare herself for seeing Harry again – who knew what kind of mood he'd be in today.

As Hayley walked along the corridors of the West wing, she spotted a strange girl emerging from Harry's cell.

The stranger was a dark brunette with bangs that framed her petite heart shaped face. The black dress she wore fit her body like a glove, showing off her slim frame with a fitted waist and a short A line skirt. The smoky makeup around her eyes made her creamy skin stand out; Hayley noticed that the girl had those little eyeliner cat eye flicks, a makeup trick that she'd tried once and miserably failed at. The girl held herself with grace and an air of superiority, not in a snooty way, but rather that she was sure of herself, comfortable in her skin, unlike Hayley.

As the girl walked closer, Hayley spotted how her cheeks were unnaturally flushed, that her lips were rouged and swollen with the surrounding makeup smudged and uneven. The brunette's hair was slightly dishevelled and she even had a strange dark red almost purple mark on her collarbone.

The two women passed each other in the hall and Hayley quickly caught a glimpse of the name on the Ravencroft visitors pass clipped onto the girl's dress; Felicia Hardy.

Hayley quickly looked down at the floor not wanting to engage in conversation with Harry's beautiful personal assistant. However, this time, her shyness didn't make her invisible.

Flashing a perfect pearly white smile, Felicia extended out her hand, "Hi. I noticed your heading to Room 136, are you going to see Mr Osborn?"

"Erm, yes, yes I am," Hayley confirmed uneasily, feeling the assistant's black polished nails scratching her skin slightly as they clasped hands in an introductory shake. The girl seemed nice enough but Hayley didn't like her own actions being questioned in her work place.

"Are you giving Mr Osborn his medication? The weekly schedule I have clearly states that he receives Amitriptyline nightly, and -" Felicia checked her skinny Rolex "- it is only 10am." She smiled, politely enough, though she began to flick through some papers attached to an A4 Filofax, pointing at the Harry's timetabled physician visits.

"I am Harry's-"

"Harry?" Felicia's lip curled at the familiarity shown by being on a first name basis with a patient.

"- erm, I'm Mr Osborn's psychiatrist and leading nurse," Hayley said, not liking the way the girl now looked her up and down as if assessing her credibility.

"Oh? Dave Manners mentioned you had been suspended as Mr Osborn's nurse. Since the trial is two weeks away, his own court appointed doctors and psychiatrist will be overseeing his treatment for the trial's duration," the brunette explained.

Hayley swallowed thickly, aware that she was blinking a little too much, more than normal. "I…er…I didn't… I'll have to check with Doctor Scott," she replied meekly, "Though I will need to check in on him since he asked me to."

Why had no one told her she'd been suspended from his case? Did their argument in the previous session really have that much of an effect on him? Was his refusal to see her all week that strong that she had now lost him as a patient?

"Of course he did," Felicia smiled stifling a knowing titter. "Well, try not to unsettle him. He is in a very good mood today," she continued, biting her lower lip suggestively.

And with a little goodbye waggle of her fingers, Felicia prowled down the hall away from Hayley, her hips swaying like she was on a catwalk.

Hayley sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, which were itching and still contained a small tear that her furious blinking had not removed. She straightened her posture and put her professional mask back on, not wanting to show Harry any more weakness.

Knocking on the window to announce her arrival, Hayley opened the large door, curious as to where Colin was – probably on another cigarette break. That guy really had an addiction.

Once inside, she quickly closed the door behind her.

As per usual, Harry was sprawled on his bed, legs akimbo and fully relaxed, his eyes and skin, thankfully, normal. Hayley became much calmer upon seeing that she hadn't fully unleashed the Goblin from their tiff earlier in the week. She also noticed that he had a rather smug grin on his face, like a satisfied cat that had got the cream.

"H…Harry?"

Instantly his demeanour changed, his shoulders tensed and his dreamy eyes narrowed as he stared at her, "What are you doing here?"

"You, you asked for me didn't you?" Now Hayley was really confused.

"Did I? I don't think I would have. It's not like I want to see you," he spat, turning to look at the wall to prove his point.

"But I got a note. It said you wanted to - "

"Well, there must have been a mistake. I have no reason to see you!" Harry snarled unkindly

"Then who…?

"I don't know, maybe Manners? Why don't you bother him with your pointless questions."

Turning back the way she'd come, Hayley couldn't help muttering under her breath, "And Felicia said you were in a good mood."

Harry let out a low cackle, his time in the relatively silent cell having heightened his sense of hearing. "I was before you showed up," he spoke, smiling when he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Felicia is the kind of girl that brightens the room, unlike you. She really knows how to make a man happy. Bright, bubbly, beautiful, in a sense, perfect," Harry purred sending one nasty jab after another.

"Of course she is," Hayley whispered with a sniff.

Do not cry, do not cry, she thought over and over.

With hands clasped firmly on the door, she drew enough strength to say one final thing, "Thank you, Mr Osborn, for the money and medication. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Surprised by her words, Harry turned sharply towards the door with every intention of standing and going to her to make sure he'd heard the door slammed shut before he even had the chance. Harry simply stood and stared at where her deflated body had been, guilt washing over him in waves as he considered her choice of words.

"What am I even doing?" he asked quietly to no one in particular.

"What you have to do. Don't start being weak now you imbecile!" the Goblin soothed in the only way he knew best – by insulting Harry.

"Did you not hear her? She practically said our relationship was purely business!"

"And your pleasurable yet beneficial relationship with Felicia isn't?"

"That's different, she works for me," Harry shot back hotly. "Besides, Hayley called me Mr Osborn, and she's never done that!"

"Jesus Christ, pull yourself together! This whole 'woe is me' act is getting old Harry! You sound like a spoilt little rich kid who hasn't got his way!"

"Well…"

"Fine. Bad comparison. Ginge WILL be ours, you just have to be patient," the Goblin scowled getting fed up with the weakness his alter ego was showing. "Jealousy takes time to manifest itself completely. Besides, when we win this trial, when we are free, then you can stop this charade and gain control over Ginge again."

Looking towards the dirty mirror, Harry smirked at the Goblin's words and his reflection. If it was one thing that an Osborn wanted most, it was control.

DRAMA! – Sorry it's a little short, just didn't want to keep you waiting, and I know this chapter's a tad filler but it is necessary my loves!

So, the next chapter I am going to make EPICALLY long because, 1. We reached 100 reviews OMFG I LOVE YOU, and 2. It's time to get our Harry OUT of Ravencroft YAY! I'm estimating, 2 or 3 more chaps before he is officially released HALLELUJAH. I'm sorry it's taken a while to get to this point and I hope I'm not losing readers because of this; I just want to realistically show the 5month incarceration progression mentioned in the film.

Also, this might make you laugh guys, but when I'm writing this fic, I'm slightly conscious that it is set in America, so I subtly tailor my language to reflect this. For instance, in the UK, I would say 'lift' and the US would be 'elevator', 'police' to 'cop', 'post' I change to 'mail', 'tap' to 'faucet', 'pavement' to 'sidewalk' etc. I think I only know these things because of watching TV lol I don't mind doing it because I think it gives my story more realism and cements it in the country of origin. Thought I'd let you in on my secret because I was doing this earlier and it made me laugh :P The only thing you might notice me not change is 'colour' to 'color' – that's my one UK spelling I'm keeping hehe!

Love you all and lots of hugs and thanks for those who read, review, follow, favourite and all that jazz XXX