Featured song: Home – Gabrielle Aplin / Maybe You – Say Lou Lou
I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise etc Though, I own Hayley and Manners, and a few other things…like all the hearts of people who read this fic…maybe.
Hayley found herself waking up in an empty bed again.
Much like the previous night, having to witness destruction so close to her home had caused her to sleep almost instantaneously when she finally crawled into Harry's bed.
After crying on his shoulder for what felt like hours, Hayley had wept her last tear, and now all she could feel was numb. It felt like the whole world was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her only anchor in all this chaos was Harry.
He had gently pulled her to the bathroom and had started to coax her towards the shower before his cell buzzed and he quickly left. But Hayley didn't mind. She knew how busy Harry had been answering phone calls all day concerning the latest OsCorp break in. All that matter was that he cared.
A long and warm shower in which she had scrubbed herself raw made the numbness dull slightly. Her pyjamas, an oversized navy t-shirt with three white pine trees decorating the front, and some black leggings, had made the prospect of sleep more bearable. Every time she closed her eyes all she could see was fire. The fire of burning apartment buildings, the flame tattoos decorating her mugger's knuckles, the predatory fire in Kinsey's black eyes, and the fire that had engulfed her parents. Hayley was certain she was experiencing some low level form of PTSD.
She never felt more like a child than in that moment, crying on Harry's shoulder, than she ever had in her adult life. Only children cried, not adults. She was only twenty-one, but age was just a number, and Hayley didn't feel like the professional adult that she was meant to be. Harry was only a year younger and was acting more of an adult than she.
The world was too big and she was drowning in it. She was an embarrassment to the medical profession. Barely holding it together herself whilst treating one of the most sort after cases in recent times. How could she call herself a psychiatrist when her own issues, her own feelings, were getting in the way?
Hayley buried her head deeper under the covers; once more trying to bury all her adult worries by simply denying any such issues existed.
An abrupt smash cut through the white noise of her thoughts, causing Hayley to sit bolt upright, hand over her fluttering chest. She glanced around hopelessly, her eyes not yet accustomed to the pitch-black room. It was only when she had blinked a couple of times, did she notice the bathroom door slightly ajar. A strip of orange glowed around its edges, indicating its occupancy.
"Harry?" she called softly. Hayley watched the crack at the base of the door and noticed a black shadow moving. "Harry? Harry, are you ok?"
Silence.
Ripping back the covers, Hayley cautiously stepped from the bed, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. She hugged her body, shivering slightly. Whether her quivering state was from the chill or distress of what was behind the door, she could not say. Whatever it was, the adrenaline was making her bold and she quickly grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled.
"Harry?"
Harry was standing in the middle of the illuminated bathroom, hunched over, near the basin and sleek countertops. He was staring rather aggressively at a mirror shard in his bloodied hands; the remaining smashed pieces littered the porcelain floor around his bare feet. The accelerated rise and fall of his naked chest indicated that although his body was relatively still, Harry was far from all right. Beads of sweat dotted his face, and the floppy fringe that normally covered his forehead was pushed back, sticking up high on the top of his head. His long navy coloured cotton sleep pants were rumpled, like he had been tossing and turning during the night. If he had, Hayley had no memory of it – she couldn't even remember him joining her, let alone leaving.
The bandages that she'd applied earlier were still intact all over his body, but the covered wound on his neck appeared to be surrounded by raised agitated black veins. She managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes reflected in the mirror piece that he held tightly – they were violently burning green.
"Harry?" repeated Hayley, trying to keep her voice low yet clear so as not to alarm him.
"I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…" Harry muttered quietly, over and over.
The words made little sense to her, but she stored them away in her mind to analyse later.
Inching closer, Hayley stepped around the ruined mirror on the floor. It was hard to keep her eyes on both Harry and the treacherous ground, and she bit her tongue, holding back a shriek of pain. Already she could feel warm liquid spilling around her toes as a small piece of mirror embedded itself in her big toe. She risked a glance downwards, noting that the blood wasn't enough to be alarmed about. However, the amount dribbling from Harry's hands was.
Hayley's progress towards Harry was fairly swift considering the glass obstacles and her painful toe, but to her it seemed as if a vast number of minutes had passed. All she could think of was Harry's safety and mental stability.
There was a small space between Harry and the sink, and she carefully slid her body into it. She stood directly in front of him now, her back pressed against the polished basin. Harry's eyes never left the mirror shard. It was like she didn't even exist.
"…I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"
Hayley was unsure what to do. Although his eyes were green, they had a distinct distant glaze to them, like he wasn't present in the moment. She decided that a gentle approach, a light touch, might bring him back out of whatever trance he was in. But where should she touch him? His face? His bloody hands? His chest?
"…I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"
Reaching out, Hayley brought her hand to his face, delicately resting it against his cheek.
"…I am the shadow. You are the – "
Instantly, Harry's eyes shifted from his reflection straight up to her face. Green intense eyes met her concerned emerald gaze. He did not move, he did not flinch, he did not even speak. All he did was stare at her.
Hayley swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry, the hand on his cheek shaking slightly. "Harry, talk to me. What's happening?"
"You are the shadow. I am the dark."
"No, Ha-Goblin. I'm Hayley," she tried again, her heart racing at the sudden gritty change in his voice.
"Ginge?"
"Yes, it's me, it's Ginge."
"Ginge – "
Suddenly, Hayley's body became painfully wedged against the hard sink and Harry's hips, her back bending awkwardly as he towered over her. She felt dampness on her arm, as one of his bloody hands left the coveted shard and gripped her in place. The hand holding the mirror fragment shot towards her face, making Hayley squeak and shut her eyes fast.
"- can you see? Can you see the monster?"
She opened her eyes to stare up at him looming over her, absolutely terrified. The angle of his raised hand forced her into looking upon her own reflection in the mirror piece like he had been doing earlier. His eyes were now glaring at her as if to gage her reaction. However they were still green and still clouded. The absence in his gaze reminded her of the patients' in Ravencroft who sleepwalked.
"No," she breathed trying to keep calm, "I can only see me. And you. And the light."
"You are my light, Ginge," he responded, the intensity behind his vague eyes lessening. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers, his shaking hand dropping from the threatening position near Hayley's neck.
With normal breaths returning to her, Hayley stroked his cheek, knowing that he would not harm her. "Please let me help you. Let go of the mirror, you're hurting yourself. Here, let me help you." She removed her hand from his skin and began feeling for his hand, squeezing his wrist firmly until she heard the clatter of the sharp fragment hitting the floor. "See? That's better isn't it?"
"I won't let him take you, no one can take you, no one!"
The furious intensity had returned to Harry's sleep filled eyes – it was almost like his alter ego was trying to fight against the very present somnambulism that his body was experiencing.
"I'm right here, Goblin. No one is going to take – "
"I won't let him take you away. I won't let him take away my hope. I won't let you turn out like him…you will not betray me."
"Like who? Like Peter?"
That was evidently the wrong thing to say.
She ducked, screaming upon realising what he was about to do.
Harry swiftly removed his hand from her weak grip and raised a balled up fist ready to punch. His hand sailed through the space where Hayley's face had been only mere seconds before, hitting the remains of the shattered mirror on the wall. Yelling, he recoiled back, cradling his pained fist. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, his damp fringe returning to its natural position.
From behind his bangs, Harry's eyes, wide and alert, darted around the bathroom. He took in the smashed glass, the bloody floor, and a shaking redhead who was hiding under the sink.
He rushed to her, kneeling down, ignoring the pain as both his hands reached out for her. "Hayley? What happened? Hayley? Look at me, please?" His hands found her bony shoulder and auburn ponytail, and he gently tugged the latter, trying desperately to get her to look at him. "Please, look at me!" Harry asked again, practically begging.
Forcing herself to evaporate every shred of fear from her eyes, Hayley responded to his hair pulling and she turned her head. Her eyes searched his, and she relaxed at seeing them sparkling blue and present again. He was awake, no longer in the trance of disturbed sleep. Keeping her face as calm and serene as possible, Hayley took his undamaged hand and laced her fingers through his. Her other hand went to his cheek once more, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, moving into her touch.
She pushed down her inner worries and went into professional mode. "Nothing happened," she said softly, "You just had a small disagreement with the mirror."
"Yeah, I can see that! But why? What did I do?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. He twizzled a strand of her hair between his bloody fingers.
"Shhh, everything is alright," Hayley soothed, "You were sleepwalking, Harry. It's very common, especially after what you've been through. All that matters is that you're safe."
"But – "
"Give me your hand."
Not leaving any room for argument, Hayley grabbed his injured hand and softly traced her fingers over it. From what she could see, the cut was shallow, which was a miracle considering how long he had been gripping the mirror piece. She nodded her approval and they both shuffled away from the sink and stood. Hayley then turned on the cold tap and shoved his bloody hand under it. He hissed at the sudden temperature change, but didn't complain when she started to wash away the dried blood.
Once it was fully clean, she held it up to the light and nodded again – she was happy to see the shallow gash wouldn't need stitches. Then Hayley grabbed a purple hand towel and wound it around his palm to prevent further bleeding and agitation.
"Let's go back to bed, ok?" she smiled reassuringly, her hand sliding softly up and down his bare arm, before gently tugging him out of the bathroom.
Harry followed her lead obediently, his anxiety levels dropping, latching on to her calm and collected demeanour. It had been pretty weird going from lying in bed beside her watching her sleep, to then suddenly being in the bright bathroom with her cowered before him. He couldn't remember anything. Not getting out of bed, not breaking the mirror, not hurting his hand. Nothing. It left Harry feeling uneasy. He wouldn't go as far to say that he was frightened, but pretty damn close. It was Hayley's relaxed attitude towards the whole sleepwalking episode that was keeping him calm. She seemed so knowledgeable, so sure of herself – he couldn't quite believe that she was the woman sharing his bed.
All of a sudden her lips were on his, and Harry blinked in the darkness of his room. He instinctively reached his hands towards her face, wanting to hold her to him, to deepen her tentative kiss. But then pain shot through his arm and he pulled back, swearing at his injured hand.
"It's ok," Hayley whispered, her hand tracing imaginary patterns on his bare chest, "We're in this together, Harry. You and me."
"Yes, yes we are," he murmured back trying to stifle a yawn.
Hayley stared up into his eyes, suddenly very aware that they were alone together in his room, in the dark.
"Bedtime!" she squeaked before diving under the covers, leaving Harry shaking his head at how positively hilarious her innocence was.
He pulled back the thick duvet and tutted at her. "Well, move over. I won't have you sleeping with me if you're going to hog the whole bed," he teased, smirking when she glared at him, shoving her middle finger up into the air.
Hayley shrieked again when Harry slid in beside her, his hands pulling her close to him.
"Cold! Your hands are cold!"
"Yeah, that's why I'm touching you. You're warm."
"But you're cold!" she moaned, wriggling around as Harry's non bandaged hand splayed across her stomach.
"Care to change that? I can think of many things we could do to keep me warm," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Besides, isn't it survival 101 that to stay warm you have to share another person's body heat?"
"You're not dying of hypothermia, Harry. That's a teeny bit overdramatic."
"True. But I am dying."
Instantly he felt her playful struggles stop. Her hand reached up beneath her baggy t-shirt and she laced her fingers through his. Harry kissed her neck, trying to lighten the mood a little.
"Do you think you're still dying," came her strained voice.
"Maybe, though I can't say for certain. The Osborn curse my father gifted me appears to be a little more difficult to cure than with the engineered spider venom" he admitted with a sigh, "That would have been too easy."
"That's why your daily check ups are so important! The data I collect could one day lead to a cure," Hayley implored.
Harry sighed again and buried his face further into her soft hair. "Being poked, prodded and analysed under a microscope is not on my bucket list of things to do before I die."
"And before I met you, spooning with Harry Osborn in his ginormous bed was not on my list! But things change and here we are. My list has now been forever changed."
"Care to enlighten me? What else is on your list regarding me?" he murmured suggestively, lightly kissing her neck again.
"Sleep now," she yawned, "I'll tell you tomorrow."
Hayley relaxed, snuggling her back further against Harry's chest, before closing her eyes with a smile on her face, waiting for sleep to come.
She waited.
And waited.
"You asleep?" she breathed some ten minutes later.
"No."
"Why not?"
Hayley felt his lips moving against her neck but heard no sound.
"What?"
"I said, I'm too anxious to sleep."
Reaching up behind her, Hayley's hand found his hair and stroked it lightly. She then twirled parts of his fringe around her fingers before caressing his ear and neck.
"It's ok, Harry, I'm here. I'm here. I won't leave you."
She repeated her actions and words many times until his breathing became deep and steady, telling her that he was asleep.
And that was the beginning of Harry's night terrors.
Monday had passed by quickly, almost too quickly for Hayley's liking. She had spent the whole day napping and reading; Harry had numerous meetings, all held at the graphite table, no doubt about the OsCorp break in that was all over the news. Hayley didn't know exactly what had happened, only that it involved the Russian mob.
Maybe her mugger was part of the mob? He was Russian. Was that a racist assumption? She wasn't sure, but what she did know is how thinking about the mugger hurt too much. So she stopped thinking about it.
Harry was up late that night and had left her to sleep alone, until she heard him screaming in the other room. She had found him thrashing about on the sofa, sweat pouring off of him. Fortunately the Goblin hadn't re-emerged and it was only a bad nightmare. They had gone back to bed, Hayley stroking his head until he had fallen back into a semi-peaceful slumber.
The next morning, Tuesday, was D-Day for Hayley – it was the day she would have to give a proper account of her mugging. And she was dreading it.
She was already dressed and waiting for Harry on the sofa. Hayley hadn't put too much thought into what she was wearing to be honest for her mind elsewhere, desperately trying to ignore the impending visit to the NYPD. Her ginger locks were in a plaited ponytail so that the September breeze wouldn't turn it to knots. The long caramel coloured coat and skinny jeans were back, along with her scruffy Converse and a warm black jumper. Comfort was a necessity today, not only for the cold but because it was probably going to be an emotional visit to the police station.
Drumming her fingers on the couch arm agitatedly, Hayley glanced at a golden gilt clock that was resting on the bookshelf above one of the four T.V monitors. It was 9 o'clock in the morning. They had an hour to get to the NYPD depending on the traffic. As much as she didn't want to leave, she actually did so that it could be over with. It was the waiting, the lead up, and the anxious anticipation that was killing her.
Finally, the sound of the bedroom door opening roused her attention, and Hayley looked over to see Harry standing tall in the doorway, a smirk from ear to ear.
He was wearing black jeans, a dark navy t-shirt, patterned scarf, and black leather jacket and boots. Casual looked so alluring on him yet so powerful at the same time. When he was dressed in a suit and tie wearing the guise of the youngest and most powerful CEO of OsCorp, he had the ability to command men more then twice his age. The same authority he held whilst in a suit was just as much present when he wore normal clothing. Today he was no longer a businessman, just a regular man with a stance that oozed power and control.
It made Hayley's legs turn to jelly and her knees go weak. She had a sudden image of Harry pinning her against the mahogany walls, his lips upon her own, her legs wrapped around his waist. The thought almost had her eyes rolling back in imaginative ecstasy. But the daydream vanished as quickly as it came, because Harry was talking to her and she needed to listen.
"What?"
"I said if you keep staring at me like that we won't be able to the leave."
"Huh?"
Harry shook his head smiling to himself – she really was clueless to how she affected him. "Oh I don't know, maybe its something about the way you're looking at me."
"She's thinking about something dirty, I can tell. Look at the blush on her cheeks," the Goblin purred in his ear.
Feigning innocence, Hayley blinked and gave him a shy smile.
"Never mind. We'll be late – lets go."
They took the Sedan and rode in silence to the police station, with Hayley only becoming more and more distant the nearer they got. Every so often she would crack her knuckles and re-plait her hair, almost like a nervous tick, as well as trying to distract herself by staring out the car window. The outside world was a blur of bleak colours. Harry knew there was nothing he could do or say to make the situation any better. Therefore, every so often he would give her knee a comforting squeeze, though he was certain that she barely noticed. Evidently today was going to be tough for her.
When they finally reached the NYPD, Harry guided her out of the car, noticing that she wouldn't even make eye contact. As soon as Hayley had exited the car, she immediately left Harry's side to lean against the stone building, her head bowed in solemn numbness. She had a distant look in her eyes, like she had removed herself entirely from the situation. It worried him greatly, but before he could say anything, the large double doors of the stone building opened to reveal a very familiar figure.
"Harry my boy!" boomed Wilson Fisk as he descended down the small stone steps and onto the sidewalk.
"Fisk," Harry said, nodding to the man as they shook hands.
"Sticky business this mugging. Not good for the image, Harry, it's not something we want to have associated with the charity."
"Indeed."
"Indeed, Fisk, indeed," the Goblin commented impatiently in Harry's ear.
"I've spoken with Captain Sims about containing the exposure of this heinous crime," Fisk drawled, running his hands up and down the lapels of his expensive signature white suit. "However, it appears that once Miss Carmichael has identified her assailant, his face will appear on every major news network. I had considered buying them off to keep the story quiet. Of course, I would need your approval on this matter."
Harry folded his arms and glared at the older man. As much as the idea appealed to him, he had to save face for Hayley's sake. She needed to continue believing that he was no longer associated with organised crime. It would be much easier to kill her attacker if his face wasn't plastered on the evening news, but the police were bound by laws and he needed to have them on board with the farce of his good and wholesome persona. Besides, Kraven would find him before the identified man disappeared underground or was caught and arrested.
"I do not consider that the best move to make," Harry spoke steadily, leaning back on the parked Sedan to convey air of nonchalant superiority. "Would it not be prudent to have this criminal named and shamed to bring legitimacy to our charity's campaign? Where was Spider-Man during her attack? Nowhere! Our charity wishes to rebuild this city's damages caused by the spider and criminals alike. And should that not include the damages to the people themselves? No one is safe. Not even the wealthy."
Fisk stared at the young man, the venom and power in his voice reminding Fisk of the late Norman Osborn – like father, like son it seemed.
"Very well. I will issue a statement regarding the charity's views on the matter when her attacker has been identified."
Nodding in approval, Harry yawned and flipped the bangs from his eyes that the stubborn breeze had moved.
"You look rather tired young Harry," Fisk commented, "All those late nights thanks to the recent break in, I trust?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered looking over at the redhead who remained passive a few feet away, "Something like that."
Fisk followed the young man's gaze to the auburn girl, putting two and two together. "She is rather lovely, I can see why you'd be staying up all night with her… I think I would too."
Instantly Harry turned back to Fisk, daggers in his shockingly green eyes, but the older businessman had already begun to walk away.
"He will be going nowhere near Ginge alone."
"Agreed," Harry murmured to his alter ego under his breath, watching Fisk get into a white Bentley. Then he walked over to where Hayley was standing and was about to pull her into an embrace, before he heard the businessman call out to him.
"I've arranged us a meeting at OsCorp tomorrow, 11am sharp," Fisk thundered, his head peeking out of the lowered car window, "Do not be late."
"He'll probably be late himself, the giant idiot!"
Harry watched as the car drove off, rolling his eyes in frustration at having to be within ten feet of that man, especially tomorrow before lunch.
"Harry?"
He turned his attention back to Hayley, smiling warmly at her.
"I've just noticed that we drove here without a police escort," she said slowly, confusion on her petite face. "We are standing outside without an officer to watch you. And did I hear you're having a meeting at OsCorp tomorrow? I don't understand. You're still under house arrest! You've got a few more weeks left – "
"I was wondering when you would notice," Harry smirked, wrapping his arms around her, "The judge was at the gala, saw how I behaved myself the whole night and was impressed by the charity's values. And when he heard how I rushed to your aid and didn't kill anyone in the process, he decided to cut my sentence short. I am now a free man."
The Goblin chuckled in his ear, "Took you long enough to tell her! Though it was fun taking bets on when she would finally notice – you owe me five grand."
"Are you serious? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me? That's amazing! Eeee! I am so proud of you Harry," Hayley gushed, jumping up and down in his arms. "What do you want to do first? Do you want to go somewhere, do something? Name it and lets do it!" she babbled in hysterical excitement.
"You ever gonna tell her that OsCorp basically bought off the Judge along with that good behaviour bullshit?"
"As much as I would like to, my freedom will be officially announced on the news tomorrow. I'd rather keep a low profile so that I can truly enjoy the taste of freedom until the sharks descend."
"And they will come, like bees to honey. Killing them all would be so much fun Harry."
Hayley nodded understandingly against his shoulder before pulling away to plant a generous kiss on his lips.
He wrapped his arms tighter around her, one of them holding the back of her head, gripping her thick plait gently. "I fear we have a few errands to run before we can truly enjoy ourselves."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know, like walking into the police station."
Sighing, Hayley nodded reluctantly, taking hold of his hand and allowing him to lead her into the bowels of the NYPD.
For an hour, Harry had stood behind the one-way mirror with Captain Sims and another detective, watching Hayley as she described her attack.
He had spent another hour standing and gazing at her still, as she worked with a sketch artist to draw the face of her attacker.
A third hour passed, and all they knew about the man was that he was a white male of Russian descent, approximately 5foot 10inches tall, with matted hair, and a wonky nose. The man also had flame tattoos on his knuckles and used a hunting knife as a weapon.
Harry noticed that the initial police questioner only asked the redhead about being chased once and did not ask again after Hayley's blatant denial of such an event. He guessed that the cops were only really interested in the mugger due to the possible connection with the Russian mob and street gangs. Plus, no one had witnessed Hayley being chased, it was only a deduction made due to her injured feet. There wasn't enough evidence to suggest any sort of organised stalking attack, especially since she wouldn't corroborate with that angle. Therefore the interview focused solely on the opportunistic Russian mugger.
Having been stood for a little over three hours, Harry was starting to loose the will to live. It had been horrible having to watch his girl crying silently when she was forced to remember that night. The cops had wanted specifics, immense detail, so they next brought in a profiler to help her properly recall her ordeal.
"Please, I can't do this anymore, I don't want to remember it," Hayley groaned, head in her hands as she sat hunched over the table directly before her.
They had been going at it for what seemed like an entire day!
She was seated on a soft chair in a brightly lit interview room, with a metal table between herself and the profiler. The walls were a stark plaster grey and the air was cool to match the almost militant like room. On the wall directly in front of her was a large mirror – she had seen enough cop shows to know that there were people behind it watching her every move. Her only real thought was wondering where Harry was during all this.
"Try and imagine the alley, close your eyes and remember the way it smelt, the cool air, the feel of your environment," implored the profiler, who had replaced the initial police questioner. The older man was Italian, though he's accent was distinctly American, and he had salt and pepper coloured hair. "Now, tell me what you see."
"I see light," Hayley recalled, her eyes fidgeting behind their closed lids, "I see the corner shop were I get my noodles…"
"Where are you?" the profiler, Joe Gibson, asked.
"…I'm on the ground…there's trash everywhere…I can feel blood on my chin…"
"You're doing great, Miss Carmichael, stay in the moment," encouraged Gibson, "What happens next?"
"…Footsteps, I hear footsteps…I stand and I-I-I think he's behind me…I turn, I start to say…I say…"
"This is good, keep focused now," the profiler urged, desperate to reveal more information than the police had. "What did you say to the man?"
"…I say…I really don't want to…AHHHH!" Hayley shrieked, clutching at her head, her eyes clamped shut. "I can't do this, please, make it stop!"
"You're safe, Miss Carmichael, no one can hurt you here." Gibson glanced back to the one-way mirror for a moment before continuing, "What does your attacker do next?"
Leaping up from her chair, Hayley flung herself to the ground, before shuffling backwards until her back hit the wall behind. All the while, her eyes remained closed.
"…There's a knife at my throat, and he's hissing at me to be quiet, "Don't you fucking scream or I'll kill you,"" she yelled, clutching at her neck as if she could see the mugger before her. "…He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me!"
Following her lead, Gibson stood and walked over to her, kneeling beside the shaking redhead. "You don't have to keep going if it's too painful for you, we can stop."
"…I can feel my heart, I can feel the knife cutting at my skin, those knuckles, the fire…he reaches behind my neck, I'm so scared, please don't kiss me, please don't hurt me…so light, a weight is lifted, it's gone! He's taken it! Give me them back! You can't have them, Harry gave them to me, please give them back!"
Gibson looked over to the mirror again, his face full of concern. He had never seen someone react so strongly to the mental recall technique, and it had him worried. The girl was shaking, tears streaming down her face, and the profiler felt powerless – only she could stop this. It was out of his hands, and he daren't touch her in case she saw him as the mugger.
"…He's laughing at me…how dare he laugh! How dare he!" Hayley screamed in anger, banging her fists on the hard ground. "I can see the emeralds, I can see them! I go to grab them and he swipes at my hands…it hurts, there's blood, my hands hurt! He's going to kill me…I'm going to die!"
"Miss Carmichael, can you hear me? You are in a safe place and he cannot hurt you here," Gibson spoke strongly, trying to keep his voice calm, praying for the girl to hear him. "You are in the police station. You are not alone, I am here with you. You are safe. You can stop now!"
"…He's laughing again! I look him dead in the eye, I want to see his face, but it's so dark…I tighten my grip on my handbag and swing it at his face…I feel wet, he's spat in my face and his fist hits me…then black, all I see is black…"
The door into the interview room opened with a bang and Harry raced towards the profiler and the crying redhead on the floor. Feeling powerless and watching her so distressed was agony. He couldn't stand to be stuck behind that glass, a mere spectator, another minute longer!
"Can't you make her stop?" he hissed at Gibson, throwing a protective arm around Hayley. She was shaking like an earthquake was beneath her.
"Only she can stop reliving the memory. There is nothing I can physically do – she has the power to stop. The best we can do is let her recount it all until she is ready to finish, and keep her from hurting herself in the process!" Gibson advised, really at a loss of how to help her.
"…I'm so weak! I have to be strong like Harry, I can't die here, I have to stay for him…but it's so dark and so cold, my eyes are so heavy…" Hayley continued to wail, hitting her head against the wall until Harry's hand acted as a cushion to prevent injury. "…I hear a voice…the mugger runs away, I'm safe! The voice…I know that voice…he came to save me…he came back for me! I knew he didn't hate me…I'm so sorry I ran, but I had too…I'm so tired, all I want is to sleep…
Harry winced slightly as she repeatedly whacked his hand with her head. "Who is she talking about?"
"You maybe?" the profiler replied, his eyes flicking between the pair, the cogs in his brain whirring. "Or maybe she means the man who called the emergency services? He didn't leave a name. Mr Osborn, I want you to try and rouse her from this yourself."
Harry had absolutely no idea how he could help and was about to say so to the profiler, but then Hayley started to scream. An ear-splitting, soul-destroying screech emanated from her frowned lips, its piercing decibel causing both men to recoil.
On his knees, Harry looked at the older man and spoke loudly to be heard over the screaming, "WHAT SHOULD I DO?"
"TALK TO HER! LET HER HEAR YOUR VOICE! CALM HER DOWN!"
He nodded and moved closer to her. "HAYLEY! STOP SCREAMING! YOU ARE SAFE. I'M HERE. IT'S HARRY"
"…It's so dark…then black…all I see is black…I am the shadow…you are the dark…you are the dark…"
Why does that sound so familiar? Harry thought.
"HAYLEY! IT'S HARRY. IT'S HARRY!"
Upon exclaiming his name, Harry felt her stop shaking. Her incessant screaming ceased. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly in the too bright light.
"Harry?"
"Yes," he breathed, relief washing over him. "It's me."
"Welcome back to the bonus round Ginge!" the Goblin said lightly to Harry, a reminder to them both of what it felt like to have power over Donald Menken's life. They would have the same power in taking the mugger's life, and they would make him bleed!
Hayley leaped into Harry's arms, knocking them both over so that they were practically lying on the cold grey floor.
"Mr Osborn, if you wouldn't mind taking Miss Carmichael over to the table," Captain Sims asked seriously, his presence having gone unnoticed to them all since he had entered silently during the screaming. He held a manila folder in the crook of his arm.
Joe Gibson stood and brushed off the dirt from his silk suit trousers. Then he went to stand over by the Captain as they watched Harry led the distraught redhead to the metal table, coaxing her to sit on the chair.
"How did you know that would work?" Captain Sims whispered to the profiler, "Getting Mr Osborn to talk to her, I mean."
"The body language between the pair suggests a close and personal relationship, more than plutonic, romantic even," Gibson replied quietly, "The familiarity of his voice seemed the only plausible route to exploit. Besides, mine wasn't doing jack shit."
Sims marched forward, opening the folder as he went. "Now, Miss Carmichael, we have compiled some photographs of criminals matching the description you gave and from the composite sketch. We would like you to look at these ten images and tell us if you see the face of your mugger," the Captain explained slowly as he sat down on the chair opposite Hayley and Harry. He began to gradually place down each image on the table, but noticed how the girl was only looking at the young billionaire. "If you could step away for a minute Mr Osborn, we don't want you to influence her choices," he said sternly.
Harry glared at the Captain, before squeezing Hayley's shoulder in reassurance and slowly strolling over to the mirror window. He leaned against the wall to the left of the cop, and stared at his reflection, patiently waiting for this to be over with.
When all the photographs were laid out, Hayley looked down, her eyes moving frantically, desperate to find her mugger so that she wouldn't have to be in the station any longer. Her breathing stopped and her heart rate began to soar as her emerald eyes connected with the brown sneering eyes of the man in image number seven. The attacker stared up at her, making Hayley want to run and hide all over again. She looked up at Captain Sims who motioned for her to show him which image was the correct one. With her whole arm trembling, she pressed her fingertip to the very edge of the photograph, not wanting to touch any part of the man's image.
"Andrei Kuzmin," Captain Sims confirmed. "He is a known criminal who specializes in petty theft. If I remember correctly, he was our lead suspect in a case similar to yours. He broke into your apartment complex a few months back, invading the home of a Miss Katie Royle. Do you remember? Kuzmin was wearing a balaclava during the attack, but Miss Royle identified the same flame tattoos that you did before she was knocked unconscious. He has been on our radar for some time."
Hayley nodded, remembering that that was the night she discovered her prescription medicine in her postal locker. That was when she discovered that it had been Harry who had paid for her drugs, not Peter. She glanced over to where he was standing and watched him type something on his cell phone.
He's probably texting the chauffer to bring the Sedan back to the NYPD now that we've almost finished, Hayley thought with a small smile on her face, thankful that they would be leaving soon.
Harry was indeed texting his chauffer, but he also sent another more simple text to Kraven, which read: Check Rhino's men – Kuzmin, Andrei.
His hands were shaking whilst he furiously typed out the short message. When he pressed send, Harry looked up to stare at his reflection, watching as his irises went from ice blue to green and back again. It was fascinating to watch them change as he could feel the Goblin itching to break loose now that they had the name of Hayley's attacker.
He barely heard the cops leave until he felt a soft hand tug on his arm.
"Come on Harry, let's go home."
Hayley stayed silent as they walked out of the NYPD and into the Sedan. She remained quiet when she realised that they weren't going straight back to Osborn Manor. She held her tongue when she saw her favourite corner shop. She refused to make a sound when they entered her apartment complex, the charred remains of the adjacent building causing her to spill fresh tears. When they ascended the many flights of stairs to her apartment, she remained noiseless. As her keys entered the lock and the door opened, Hayley kept mute. But as soon as they were both stood inside her dumpy home and the door closed behind them, then, finally, she spoke.
"Why the hell have you brought me here? Are you fucking insane Harry?" Hayley yelled, hands on her hips, glaring at him as he sat comfy and relaxed on her threadbare sofa.
"Possibly, though it depends on your diagnosis," he smiled, the corners of this lips turned up at his witty pun. He could tell that she wasn't in the mood for games, but it was so much fun to tease her.
"Wipe that cheeky smirk of your face! How dare you do this to me? After what I've just been through, you bring me here? Of all the fucking places to take me! When I said that we should go home, I meant your home, not mine!"
"Technically, this is not your home anymore," Harry said seriously looking at his nails nonchalantly. "We are here to pack up your possessions so that you can be more comfortable back at mine. You did ask to move in, did you not?"
Hayley breathed in and out deeply, trying to gain control of her anger. "Yes."
"Exactly. I thought it would be better to do this before the media gets wind of my early release and before your mugging is made public," explained Harry slowly, hand going to his scarf as he spoke. "Reporters will be crawling all over us. It made sense to do this now."
Hayley stared at him, wanting to kiss away that knowing smirk – why did he always have to be right? And how was it that he made her feel like kissing and punching him at the same time?
She sighed heavily, her pent up anger vanishing. "Fine. You are forgiven, but only because you're you. If anyone else had tried this, I would beat the shit out of them," she proclaimed with a grin, though it faltered slightly when she noticed Harry scratching the wound hidden beneath his scarf. "So yeah, this is, was, my home. Sorry for the mess. I'll go get some boxes."
Rushing to her bedroom to retrieve a few cardboard boxes, Hayley suddenly felt embarrassed to have Harry in her home. Compared to the opulence of Osborn Manor, her apartment looked diseased and horribly plain. She was so used to seeing works of art and mahogany walls that her own room appeared strangely quaint and old. Visiting her home like this was bizarrely grounding – it reminded her of where she had come from.
If Harry had ever felt uncomfortable or unimpressed by her poor excuse of a home, the polar opposite of wealth, then he did not say. Instead he chatted away to her about random things, trying to keep her mind free from dwelling too much on the morning's events.
They packed up her belongings fairly quickly, mainly because she had very little to begin with. Her suitcase fitted all of her clothes and shoes, while two boxes held all her books, and they filled another box with her knickknacks and photo frames. She decided to leave her kitchenware since she wouldn't have any need for it living in the manor. Harry stopped her from packing her beloved Pot Noodles, saying that he would make Connelly throw them away if she did pack them.
"All this medication cannot be for you," Harry commented as he opened a cabinet in her bathroom.
Hayley poked her head round the door, looking at him sitting on her bathroom floor, a brown cardboard box in his lap. He had surrounded himself in miniature boxes and bottles of pills and tubes of her burn ointment. The sight of seeing him so domestic almost made her laugh.
Flipping his bangs away, Harry turned around where he sat and held up a pill bottle. "Some of these don't even have your name or patient information on," he said staring at her, his eyebrow raised, silently demanding an explanation.
"Um, yeah, that's because I sort of, you know, borrowed them," Hayley admitted sheepishly.
"Borrowed?"
"Yes. I borrowed them, and, er, kept them."
"You stole all of this?" Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the huge piles of pills around him. You could see more medication than tiles on the floor.
Hayley sighed, knowing that her reasoning wasn't exactly a justification for stealing. "I couldn't afford to buy my prescriptions after my Grandma died," she explained quietly, sitting on the cracked tiled floor opposite Harry. "I needed the medication desperately. I was battling my depression and trying to prevent my PTSD from returning. I didn't have a choice. I had no money. And the little I did have went straight to rent and bills. I stole them from the inventory at Ravencroft. It was the only place that I was able to take the medication safely and without anyone noticing. Stealing was my only option."
Reaching out, Harry took her hand and held it, showing her that he understood.
"Ravencroft has so much surplus medication anyway, because they fail to provide proper medical care for the inmates. All the tablets I gave you during your stay," Hayley said simply, her eyes meeting Harry's, "I stole."
"Excuse me?"
"Ginge is a right little criminal," the Goblin mused to Harry, "Who would have thought!"
"I had to do something! You were suffering in there. Besides, I think Manners knew, and that's why he continued your medication when I was no longer treating you. How he found out and got the correct pills and dosage, I don't know," Hayley recalled, shaking her head. "That's why it's important that you take all your nightly medication – those tablets are what saved you."
"No, Hayley, you saved me."
A poignant silence stretched between them. They both knew that in meeting each other they had also saved one another.
Hayley was the first to break the silence.
Taking the medium brown box from his lap, she placed it between them. Then she started to fill it with all the multi coloured boxes and pill strips. Harry followed suit, and they both packed the box slowly.
"So," Harry said innocently, unable to keep his signature smirk from playing across his lips. "This bucket list of yours…talk me through it."
For a moment, she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but then she remembered their conversation last night. "Erm, well I'd love to visit Venice, get a tattoo, own a cat, erm, go to Coney Island – "
"What? You've never been to Coney Island?"
"No. I spent most of my life in England remember?" said Hayley shaking her head, her plait swaying like a horse's tail. "Anyway, I guess the other thing on my list would be to meet Spider-Man."
Harry paused his pill packing actions, his whole body going rigid at the mention of the arachnid vigilante. "And why would you want to do that?" he growled, a flash of anger evident in his voice.
"So I can punch him in the face for leaving you to take the blame for Gwen's death!"
"Oh."
"Why else would I actually want to meet him?"
He ignored her question. "I meant, tell me what's on your list to do with me."
"Erm, I haven't really thought about it."
"Shame. I have."
"Oh, er, really?" Hayley giggled nervously, the dark and lustful look in those icy blues suddenly making her mouth go dry. "Fine, where do I fit on the great Harry Osborn's list?"
He looked at her seriously. "It would make you blush from head to toe if I told you – plus, where's the fun in that when I could just as easily make you blush by touching you?"
Another long intense silence stretched between them.
"Ok, on my list, erm, I guess, maybe a date?"
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Not that we have…I mean, we might not be…but then I thought because…you know? And I told you that…I…but don't worry…erm yes! No, I mean no! Maybe?"
"Hayley, I told you I loved you, you've slept in my bed for the past three nights, and now you're moving into my home. I think it's safe to say you're my lady."
A heavy blush appeared across her chest and Hayley stood, a huge smile on her face. Then she dashed into the lounge, and that was the last Harry saw of her while he finished packing up her stolen medication.
The last box of books was nearly full and Hayley picked up the notebook that she'd written all her notes from Ravencroft in. A small white rectangle fell from between the pages, and Hayley bent down to pick it up, her eyes glancing over the neatly typed letters.
Dr. Emily Baker
Board Certified Psychiatrist
Adult and Adolescent Psychiatry
Hours By Appointment Only
Beneath the little blurb were the woman's practise address, email, and contact information.
Hayley drew in a sharp breath. She remembered that Manners had given her the business card when she read over the contract he sneakily made her sign. For some reason she had kept the card, just in case of a future event where the Goblin psychosis got out of control.
Her first instinct now was to throw the card away. But a little voice at the back of mind told her otherwise, that one day she would need the services of Doctor Baker. The business card also made her feel guilty. Hayley realised that she had neglected to keep up with her twice-weekly mandatory counselling sessions with Harry. They had only probably done about three in the first few weeks after he had been released. She had managed to maintain the thrice-daily check ups, despite his grumbling and groaning. But whenever she had tried to initiate a session, Harry always seemed to be busy or have a meeting or they would both get sidetracked.
Maybe keeping the card is a good idea, just in case, Hayley reasoned with herself as she placed it firmly back into the notebook.
She looked over to where Harry was standing in the bathroom, the full and neatly packaged box at his feet. Hayley could see that he was staring at his reflection intently, almost in the same manner as he had done the other night during his sleepwalking episode.
Patting the notebook, she finished packing the box before her, all the while thinking about the business card. She had a strange feeling that she might have to call on this Emily Baker for assistance – it was only a matter of when.
It was well into the afternoon when they returned from her apartment to Osborn Manor.
All Hayley's boxes were put into the room adjoining the bathroom that led into Harry's bedroom. Her clothes were unpacked and placed in the wooden wardrobe and drawers, photographs and candles on the dresser. The cardboard box of medication sat in the shared bathroom – the broken mirror had been swept up and replaced whilst they were out.
They were in the spare room and Hayley had just finished unpacking her books into one of the ceiling high bookshelves. It looked very sparse since she only had about thirty books, but the room was starting feel more like home.
"Where are you putting that?" Harry asked pointing to the clothes in her hands. He was leaning against the doorway, watching Hayley scurrying around, making the place her own.
"What? My pyjamas?" Hayley asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
Harry nodded.
Gesturing to the reasonably sized well kempt bed on her left, she said, "I was going to put them under my pillow."
"Your bed is through there," he replied, using his thumb to point behind him, back through to his room. "It wouldn't make sense to mess with a good thing now, would it?"
Blushing, Hayley hurried past him, through the bathroom and into his bedroom. Harry followed her, watching the way she walked, unknowingly sashaying her tiny hips. It was interesting how she tentatively pulled back the pillow on his bed, almost as if that by putting her clothes there, it meant that they were officially an item. Seeing her in his room was sending Harry into a sexually frustrated frenzy, since she was usually asleep when he finally retired to his bed.
"To think, you've had Ginge sleep in your bed three times, and you haven't even had sex with her yet!" the Goblin exclaimed to Harry, "I can't stand much more of this waiting Harry! Next time you're both in bed, grab her and rock her world!"
Having Hayley living with him and sleeping in his bed was probably going to be the death of him. It wasn't that it was a bad idea, it was what Harry had intended since the Goblin had first broken her fingers. The thing that would kill him would be a man, and by a man, he meant his lawyer.
"Manners is going to have a hernia when he finds out," Harry mumbled to himself, eyes gliding of the curve of her bottom.
"More like a heart attack," the Goblin tittered, appreciating the view, "That's if we don't die of frustration first!"
Hayley turned, catching the predatory look in his piercing blue eyes, a lust filled smirk on his face. He gestured for her to come closer, which she did, wrapping her arms around his neck. Immediately, Harry captured her lips in one of those passionate and intense kisses, making her melt against him instantly. He playfully rubbed his hands up and down her back, the Goblin goading him to take things further.
When he ventured south and began to kiss her neck, Hayley's eyes landed on the box of medication in the bathroom. It reminded her of the psychiatrist's business card, and then the feelings of guilt started to creep back in.
"So, are you really going back to OsCorp tomorrow?"
"I don't believe this!" wailed the Goblin in Harry's mind.
"Yes."
"Both of us?"
"Indeed," he replied, squeezing her body closer to him in an attempt to show her were this was headed.
"You know, I was thinking, that it's going to be difficult fitting in your therapy sessions whilst you're working at OsCorp," Hayley tried to explain rationally, "Maybe we should do them in the evening…we could do one tonight?"
"Talk about that for a mood killer."
"Can't. We're going out," Harry said a little too happily, trying not to show how frustrated and pent up he was.
"Out?"
"It's my last night of freedom and I think we should celebrate. You could call it a date."
Harry had taken her to China Town to experience some strange and wonderful food. It felt amazing to Hayley to be holding hands with him, acting like a real couple. Seeing him free, out and about in Manhattan, was everything they had been working towards. No one recognised them and they were able to walk in the streets without any trouble, though Pete and James followed close behind.
The evening air was cool and Harry had worn a thick cashmere scarf and his grey woollen coat. He also wore a crisp white shirt and tie since going out for dinner was to be their first date. It seemed a little trivial to Harry, especially since she was now living with him, so their relationship had gone way past the need for proper dating protocol. But the gleam in her emerald eyes and the shining smile on Hayley's face made it worthwhile. Plus, it would be last time he'd be able to walk around outside without reporters snapping pictures of his every move.
Hayley had even dressed up for the occasion. Underneath her caramel coat she wore a long-sleeved black skater dress that was a little too short for her liking. Which is why her legs were covered in woolly knee-high socks. She'd un-plaited her hair, letting her long auburn kinked ponytail tumble in the breeze.
As they strolled past a large shop window, she caught a glimpse of their reflection – Harry looked like a movie star and she an adult version of orphan Annie. When she informed him of this, he wrapped his arm around her and said that she was too old to play Annie.
"Besides, if I really wanted to look like a movie star, I'd use these," Harry smirked, plucking a pair of Ray-Bans out of his coat pocket and placing them over his eyes.
The fact that he was now wearing sunglasses at night, made Hayley howl with laughter and she teased him incessantly. It didn't help matters that he said he wore sunglasses all the time, even at night, to stop people from recognising him. She wasn't sure why she found it funny but she did. And the only thing that prevented her laughter was when Harry suddenly grabbed her and started kissing her in the middle of the busy streets. At first it had shocked her that Harry would be so affectionate in public but as soon as she looked up at him and saw those designer sunglasses, it set her off giggling again.
They carried on in this fashion, laugh, kiss, laugh, kiss, until they finally found a place to eat. They were hunting for the place down the tiny side streets of China Town, the walkways decorated with red and gold banners and Chinese paper dragons. It was a very specific restaurant that Harry wanted to visit. Apparently it was on some list of top restaurants and was described as one of New York's hidden gems. When they finally found the place, it didn't look like much but Harry swore by credibility of this list.
Red and yellow Chinese paper lanterns were hanging around the restaurant, which was filled with round wooden tables and chairs, covered by red tablecloths. Each table had a candle in the centre and all the food was brought in on blue and white patterned china and small wicker baskets. After sitting opposite each other at their own little table near the back, even Hayley had to admit that it really was romantic.
"So, what is this stuff? I've nearly finished eating, and I still don't know what it is," she asked, gesturing to the empty bowls and baskets that were stacked up on their reclusive table.
"It's Dim Sum."
"You really like making me eat weird food, don't you?" Hayley stated, bringing the last of her dumplings up to her lips.
"I thought you needed educating in real food since you only eat Pot Noodles," Harry replied simply, smirking as the pork dumpling fell off her chopsticks and landed back onto her plate.
"HA! You are so funny Harry," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she speared the insolent dumpling and popped it into her mouth. "You know, I think I prefer this better than shawarma. I like it here, it's nice. It reminds me of a place Gwen told me about once." Hayley looked around taking in the features of tiny restaurant. "In fact, I think this is the place Gwen told me about. I remember now! It was the evening of graduation and she had just dumped Peter Pa – "
Harry's fist landed hard on the table top making their chopsticks and bowls jump from the impact. "I don't want to hear his name! Ever! He betrayed me, Hayley, don't you forget that!"
"Yes, I know, but how –"
"Do. Not. Ruin. This!" Harry hissed, standing suddenly. "I'm going to pay the bill, and when I get back, I do not want to hear anything more about Parker. Do. You. Understand?"
Hayley nodded, biting her lip as she stared up at him.
"Good," he sneered, shoving his chair closer to the table before stalking angrily away from her.
"What the fuck was that?" she whispered to herself.
She glanced over to where Harry was paying for their food, and could tell from his body language that he was furious. Her mind went back to thinking about this great betrayal between the two friends. There was no way she was ever going to be able to ask Harry, especially if he lost it every time she mentioned Peter's name.
"Hayley!"
Standing from the table, she rushed over to Harry who had his arms folded, waiting impatiently. He grabbed at her hand and they walked very fast out of the restaurant and down the street. Behind, Hayley could hear the bodyguards, Pete and James, jogging to keep up with their fast pace.
After a good ten minutes of total uncomfortable silence, Hayley decided to try and make peace. "Harry, look, I'm really sorry I mentioned – "
"LOOK! It's Spider-Man!"
"Mummy look, it's him! Hi Spider-Man!" cried out a young boy.
"Spider-Man! We love you!"
All around them, people stopped and pointed up to the dark sky, all the while shouting and cheering. The masked vigilante swung from building to building above the busy street. The man's red and blue suited body flew through the air, and even Hayley could admit that he looked amazing. It was the first time she had seen him in real life and not on a television screen. She mirrored everyone surrounding her, following Spider-Man's aerial actions with her eyes while her mouth opened in shock and awe.
A sudden and unpleasantly painful feeling had her eyes break away from the masked man and look down. Harry's hand was clenching around her fingers, hard. She ignored the excruciating pain and quickly glanced up to see his face.
Harry's mouth was in a tight line, brows furrowed in intense anger, face as hard as stone. And those eyes, those haunting green speckled eyes, were trained on Spider-Man like a gun on its target.
"I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward," Harry muttered furiously though gritted teeth, before squeezing his hand until he heard a very satisfying snap.
As one of my reviewers, Cassie-D1, so wonderfully put it – yes, Harry does have a major case of "painful blue balls by now." Poor Harry!
Don't worry Guestling, there will be a detailed smut, I definitely wouldn't keep teasing you guys if I wasn't going that write the end game (sexy time) fully detailed :P
And to Kayla, thank you for your kind words, and I hope you and your brother continue to enjoy my fic! Love to you hun!
Also, I heard that there are a lot of countries that are in the middle of exam season? My love to you guys, keep studying and kill those exams!
Keep being amazing my wonderful readers! Much Love XXX
P.S. Sorry if the last few chaps have seemed a tad filler, my apologies, I hope I'm not loosing you guys - I'm building up to something!