Featured song: Eyes Wide – Meadowlark
I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! But I do own my OC's and the plot…and a grey coat, which is my fav XD
He had been signed off work due to his still green skin, and for some reason that meant she could not go to work either, though she no idea why. Hayley would have asked him but they were no longer speaking – he did not deserve that luxury. She had moved into the adjoining room permanently because of their little tiff.
At night, she even refused to seek him out during his terrors.
It had killed her to do so and her eyes streamed with tears the first night, as she lay still with a fist in her mouth to stifle her sobs. Harry had sought her out, screaming and rambling, crouched by her bed like an abandoned puppy. But as soon as she reached for him, her palm tentatively caressing his hot forehead, the spell had been broken. He had shoved her concerned hand aside and stormed back into his room.
The nightly disturbances that followed were relentless, frequent, and worse than ever. However, he never came to her again, and she never went to his aid. Maybe it was a blessing that they both had the week off.
Hayley hid for the majority of the days, spending her time in her room rereading books. The only times she ventured out were to use the bathroom and to grab a few things at mealtimes, but even that she would take and eat in her room, alone. Deliberately isolating herself instead of dealing with the problem would only make things worse between them, that she knew. Yet, the thought of grovelling back to Harry and apologising for whatever she had done was not something Hayley wanted to do.
He was the one who had started all their arguing. He had taken away her medication, her drug safety net. He had blamed her for being attacked and injured all the time. The Goblin had cruelly mentioned the burning of her parents, and then had the audacity to try to make peace by dressing her up in expensive finery. It just wasn't right and she had had enough of his selfish and childish behaviour. Plus, he was being an all-around, egotistical prick.
I have nothing to apologise for, I didn't do anything, Hayley repeated to herself constantly in her mind.
It was her new mantra. That and those three irritating lines, forever etched into her brain.
I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward.
Sighing to herself, Hayley fixed her hair with trembling hands. They seemed to always to be shaking these days, and she did wonder if it was a withdrawal side effect from stopping her medication so abruptly. Stress was the other contributor. Today however, she knew it was something else, something far more disturbing that was causing her heart to race and her body to quiver.
"Calm down, Hayley, you have to stay calm," she spoke to herself quietly, trying to take in steady breaths as she walked from her room and through the bathroom. She stopped at the door leading to Harry's room. "Come on, don't be scared. You can't show him anything. No emotional upset. You must not respond if he mentions…I have nothing to apologise for and I didn't do anything!" Hayley whispered almost inaudibly, her hand on the doorknob, slowly easing the door open.
Nothing. No Harry in sight.
Thank god! Now, is he in the manor at all?
She could hear the television buzzing incomprehensible noise in the apartment, but that could mean anything. It didn't necessarily imply that Harry was around, since he often left it on at night just to annoy her. However, it did make her feel slightly more apprehensive, if that was even at all possible.
Hayley opened the door, the final barrier between her and the living area, and immediately froze in the doorway.
Empty bottles of alcohol were cluttered together on the coffee table, along with plates and boxes of unfinished food, week-old newspapers, and manila folders. All four television monitors were on but only one was producing any sound. The large windows were open, the breeze caressing the blue curtains, whilst the papers on the table and floor fluttered. No matter how fresh the air was it could not mask the stench of alcohol and old takeout food.
Harry was stretched out on his preferred grey sofa, the television remote held lazily in his hand, with his arm dangling near the cool, marble floor. There were four full bottles of various liquids near his occupied hand, all begging to be opened and consumed.
Judging by the amount of bottles, Hayley wondered whether he was currently intoxicated.
He appeared like a king on his throne, completely at ease, owning the chaos that was surrounding him and that which he caused. The skin on his neck was still irritated, and Hayley could see clearly for the first time what it looked like. A large oval shaped lesion dominated the right side of his throat, the skin appearing hard and thick, almost like a piece of bark. There were deep, half-moon shaped, red marks that were from his constant scratching. All the veins near the area were black and pulsing; his Retroviral Hypodysplasia was at its worse on his neck. The rest of his body was still green but nowhere near as angry.
As she went to take a step back into his room, Harry's narrowed eyes darted in her direction, his body stiffening slightly at the sight of her. Those icy blues did not linger on her for long, barely even a moment, before they were back transfixed on the television.
She wondered what to do. Should she say something? Speak to him? Did she really want to have another argument on such a beautiful day? He quite clearly was at home in his misery and he wasn't really worth her breath right now…
"Do you have something to say, or are you just going to stand there and annoy me all day?" Harry asked rudely, not even looking her way.
"Do you want to talk about the explosives under your bed?" she retorted, and noted how his jaw clenched at her question – yet another secret he had kept from her.
"Our bed."
"Oh no, it very clearly is your bed."
Harry scowled at the redhead, "I do not owe you an explanation."
She glared at him, feeling the white-hot anger bubbling up inside of her, needing to be released. "No, you don't. But the fact that you are endangering my life and that of my patient, oh wait, former patient, then I'm afraid you do owe me," she seethed spitefully, though still kept her voice as even as she could. Emotional restraint was needed today.
"I'll save it for my therapy sessions," he muttered sarcastically with a cheeky grin curling his lips.
The mocking undertones of his statement hung in the air like bullets frozen in time, poised and ready to pierce their victim.
"So, never then?"
"Precisely."
"Bingo Ginge," the Goblin contributed abruptly.
The bullets hit their mark, and Hayley shook her head sadly; was she really that bad of a therapist? He obviously had no confidence in her at all.
Harry turned up the volume on the television making it uncomfortably loud, as he watched and waited agitatedly for her to acknowledge it. In his peripheral vision, he could tell that the noise hadn't even made her flinch, so he steadily increased the volume. Still no reaction, only that of her eyes flickering around the room, looking anywhere other than him or the television. So he put it on full blast and grinned when Hayley put her hands over her ears, trying to stifle the painful noise.
The Osborn's were not known for their patience. Neither was the Goblin.
Harry muted the television. "Seen the news?" he asked casually, barely able to contain himself.
"Hmmm?" Hayley replied trying her best to be aloof and passive. "Yeah, I saw nothing remotely interesting."
"Uh, well, why don't you take another look then," he said pointedly. "Don't make me force you."
Hayley quickly glanced at the TV screen, already knowing what the "breaking news" story was; it took everything she had not to flinch at the graphic images displayed, to try and keep her hands from trembling further – she would not allow him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"I see they still can't identify the girls…" she observed quietly.
Hayley knew exactly who the two women were, even without seeing their faces; the girls were Becca and Cheryl.
No matter how horrid they had both been they did not deserve this. No one did.
She had never wished for their demise like she had secretly for Kuzmin, and commanded for Kinsey. Even though she had not committed the act, their blood was on her hands. It made Hayley feel dirty and ashamed, guilty even; she was just as much a murderer as Harry. However, the one thing that terrified her was the dreadful feeling that this was not over. How far was Harry willing to take this? Who would be next? Would there be others executed by her personal, green, angel of death? Well, goblin of death.
Going to the police was out of the question; Hayley knew that they would not believe her, and even if they did, she would go down with Harry. His end goal eluded her, but one thing was for sure, the web he was weaving had entrapped her and there was no way out. No one could save her. Not even Spider-Man.
She looked back at the television and saw a few more images that the police had released. The pictures were carefully photographed, close-up shots so as not to cause alarm; wide-angle shots of the fully exhibited bodies were not shown. Specific characteristics were publicised, like their fake tan, fake nails, and toned bodies, and Hayley would have recognised them regardless of their discovery outside the Ravencroft Institute.
They were like two broken marionette dolls, propped up and posed for their audience; the whole theatre was filled but only Hayley had a front row seat. This message was for her alone.
The shots of their pumpkin faces revealed grotesque, carved smiles with ruby red lipstick smeared like lips around their cackling mouths. The writing on their bodies was meticulous, making the offensive word clear and unmissable. One would think that their and missing heads would frighten Hayley, but what scared her about this incident was the body writing. How did Harry know that Becca and Cheryl had called her a whore? That they had written that horrid word on a newspaper placed on her desk the day she left Ravencroft? She could not recollect ever telling him about their nasty, bullying prank.
"Hidden the heads have you?" Hayley asked nonchalantly, hoping and praying that the bile burning her throat would not come up.
"I might have," Harry said evasively, his delivery frosty. "I'm sure they'll turn up. You should have faith in the NYPD. I am certain they'll locate the parts…eventually," he smirked, as he picked up one of the bottles on the floor and took a large gulp of Scotch.
"For both our sakes, I hope they don't!" she hissed, before stopping and composing herself. "I don't know what you wish to achieve by this crusade of yours. It is not going to make me like you anymore than I already do. In fact, it is making me like you less!"
"Grow up Hayley, not everything is about you. Are you really that self-centred?"
"Don't try to use reverse psychology on me, Harry, it makes you look stupid."
"So petty today, doll," the Goblin replied calmly with a sickeningly sweet smile.
Hayley wanted nothing more than to punch him, but she couldn't let herself sink to his level. Getting all riled up would not achieve anything other than to feed his ego even more. He wanted her attention, craved her emotionally charged responses to his villainous schemes, so she took another moment and counted to ten in her head.
"The police can identify them without their heads, you know. There is a database that holds fingerprints for medical license renewal."
Grinning smugly to herself, Hayley thought; HA! Bet you didn't think of that, Harry Osborn!
"As if she thinks that could stop us!" the Goblin laughed inside Harry's mind.
"They won't be able to identify them for a while…I burnt off their finger prints."
Hayley's stomach flipped. "Well…w-what about dental records?"
"Please," the Goblin scoffed aloud, "don't insult me."
"You are ridiculous if you think these are effective enough measures!" she retorted more confidently than she felt. "You should have just left their I.D tags on them, it's honestly that obvious who they are!"
"To you maybe," Harry said quietly, "but then, that's the point isn't it? This is all for you, correct?"
She blanched, completely lost. "Is-isn't…it's not?"
"You're not that important you know. There are things in my life other than you," he spoke condescendingly with a wicked grin, like a parent disciplining their child. "Very selfish of you to think otherwise, really."
Something Kraven had said to her flashed through her mind: There are forces other than what you see little, lamb.
"You can't just get rid of people!"
"That is the Osborn way," Harry mused darkly.
Hayley's hands clenched at her sides and her eyebrow rose defiantly. "Argh. I'm not having this conversation with you," she proclaimed, storming past him and the couch, making a beeline for the door. In her haste she failed to remember that she didn't have her coat or handbag with her.
Vaulting over the couch from where he sat, Harry rushed towards her, knocking over a couple of bottles, causing the liquid to spill and glass to smash. He caught up to her in four quick paces, his angry eyes noticing for the first time that she was wearing her emerald earrings. This small gesture pleased him immensely, but it was not enough to quell the rage radiating through his body.
"Don't turn your back on me, Hayley!" he growled, grabbing her upper arm and spinning her to face him.
Letting out a small, shaky breath, Hayley winced at the painful grip on her arm, and said unconfidently, "I'm not! I just…I-I'm going out."
Instantly, Harry responded sharply, "No you are not!"
"This isn't a fairy tale Harry Osborn, y-you can't keep me locked up in here!"
"You can't go out looking the way you do!" Harry waited for her to respond but instead he noted the confusion on her face, so he elaborated, "The bruises, Ginge," he lamented, trailing a single, green finger down her throat.
"Well, whose fault is that?" she appeased, her eyes watering at the memory. His finger trailed back up her neck, across her jaw, and delicately flicked her earring. Immediately her eyes hardened, not wanting to show him the emotion he craved, "I'll wear a scarf, ok?"
"Why do you need to leave?" he enquired, growing increasingly irritated at her constant defiance. Was their fight that bad that she wished to leave him?
Because I'm going crazy being around you! Hayley thought.
"My fingers," she said simply, presenting her broken fingers and waving them in front of his face, "they need a new cast."
The fingers in question had a broken cast with numerous cracks in it, the plaster splintered and crumbling away beyond repair. The only reason it was still attached was because of the surgical masking tape Hayley had used to hold it together. It was shoddy work but better than nothing.
Harry rolled his eyes at her fingers and released her arm, turning away, his full attention returning to the television. "Fine," he said reluctantly as he flopped back onto the couch.
"I might have asked you to come with me," she responded sarcastically to the back of his head, "but, you know, you're still green. And it is still light outside."
"If I had known you would end up being so argumentative, I would never have chosen you. Life would be so much easier if you did what you were told," Harry grumbled. He grabbed one of the fallen bottles and swigged the last remaining alcohol from it, raising his arm in a mocking toast. "You are a far cry from the little mouse you were in Ravencroft."
"I've just remembered my true self. I have you to thank for that."
"Go then. I have a meeting with Fiers and Manners, and I do not want you eavesdropping again."
This time, Hayley rolled her eyes. "I don't need your fucking permission," she muttered quietly, though not quietly enough.
"Excuse me?"
Biting her lip, the redhead stood frozen as Harry very calmly stood from the couch and walked back over towards her. His whole body was coiled tightly like a spring, jaw clenched with the monumental rage he was trying to supress, the kind of rage that had caused his eyes to burn green.
"You will always need my fucking permission!" Harry snarled, advancing on her until he could practically feel her shallow breath on his face. "This isn't a game you can win, Hayley. Now, be the good girl I know you can be, and go get a scarf," the Goblin said quietly, holding her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his fingers. "I need you Ginge, remember?"
She nodded obediently, ducking her head in defeat, and Harry watched her disappear into his room to gather her things from her own. It frustrated him that he could not escort her to the hospital; for all he knew, she was lying to him and going to meet Peter again. This feeling of constant jealousy and possessive anxiousness had wormed its way into his heart and mind. He and the Goblin both had trust issues, and they weren't fading with time.
Hayley was dressed so beautifully today, and if it wasn't for their little spat, nothing would have stopped him from peeling the clothes off her body. For being housebound, she had dressed herself rather nicely over the week; more sophisticated than her usual t-shirt and jeans combo. Green pumps and some strange, wet-look trousers replaced her ratty Converse and comfy leggings, not that he was complaining. The material clung to her stick-like legs, and even though they looked fantastically sexy on her, the trousers highlighted how small she was. Harry was growing concerned for his little ginger doll. She was more than skinny. All Hayley seemed to eat was cornflakes, hot chocolate, and half her portion of food at dinnertime. He wasn't sure if these suspected food issues were down to stress or something deeper, a reaction to her fiery past.
He would have to get Manners to bring him her medical files to read over again.
Hayley emerged with her camel coat and a thick scarf, handbag draped over her shoulder. "Do you want me to buy some pumpkins while I'm out?" she asked sweetly, her voice dripping with taunting disdain.
"You shouldn't joke about these things, Hayley," Harry said seriously, eyes burning into hers as she stood in the doorway once again. "You might end up with one on your own pretty little head. Then you'll only be able to mock me through a jack-o-lantern smile."
His tone caught her off guard with the deadpan and sincere delivery – it frightened her. How could he still be so menacing, so powerful, when he was only leaning against the large marble dinner table? The way he stared at her with those come-hither eyes, which were still very alluring when shaded green, made her fear that he would lead her astray if she gave in to his constant temptations. Right now, Hayley wanted more than anything to go to him, to kiss his smirking lips…but that was what he wanted, wasn't it?
He wanted her to want him. To want him and look past every single villainous indiscretion he may have. And there would be many. There had already been many.
So instead of listening to her heart and giving into his hypnotic eyes, she walked up to him, offering her cheek when he went to kiss her lips.
"I'll be back," she reassured, giving his shoulder a small squeeze with her good hand.
"Don't take too long," he whispered back, a small shred of the real Harry slipping through the façade.
She smiled sadly before leaving him to his thoughts.
"Oh, and Hayley. If I find out you've secretly met Peter Parker again…well, let's just hope that you're smart enough not to."
Hospitals really did suck. The overly clean smell hurt her nose, whilst the numerous patients surrounding her in the waiting room were making her ears bleed with their loud and pointless conversations. It didn't help that a family with four children all under the age of ten were sitting next to her. Even Metallica couldn't drown out their screeching voices.
It's like an assault on all the senses in here! Hayley grumbled to herself.
She noticed that the receptionists and a couple of nurses were scrutinising her with their beady eyes. Hayley was certain that they couldn't see the bruises on her neck, because her scarf was wrapped up so tight that she could barely breathe. Maybe her music was too loud? There was no way they'd be able to hear it from across the room, especially when it was filled with so many noisy people. Whatever the reason, Hayley wished they would all just stop staring.
That was another reason why she avoided hospitals like the plague - overly assertive and judgemental doctors and staff. At least Doctor Aldington never looked at her like that. Her follow-up appointment with him was next month, and although she liked the man, she was dreading it also.
Being of the medical profession, Hayley knew that she really should be more respectful towards practitioners. Maybe it was her young age or that the medicinal environment brought back painful memories, but she really did despise hospitals. She was borderline phobic.
Or maybe it was because she no longer felt apart of the medical field. She had been replaced after all.
That's way working in Ravencroft had been ideal because its layout and environment was more like a prison than a hospital. No one particularly noticed her or judged her because the patient's were much more fascinating than she could ever be. It had also been perfect because she was surrounded by people who were more crazy and psychotic than the monsters of her past. She could breathe easily around weirdos because no matter how much they scared her, they were a constant reminder of what she had almost become. Of what she had been in that moment with the match in her hand…
"Miss Hayley Carmichael."
Glancing up she peered over to the source of the kind voice; May Parker was standing by a set of double doors. Her soft brown eyes were twinkling and her mothering smile instantly calmed Hayley's anxious feelings and thoughts. The older nurse was a complete and welcomed contrast to the stern ones who were still giving her strange looks.
Smiling, the redhead gladly jumped out of her seat ad rushed over to follow the woman through the double doors and along the many winding corridors.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon," the nurse remarked in a friendly tone. "I hear you're having problem with your cast?"
"Yeah. Yes, it…er…it kind of broke…"
May Parker glanced down at the girl's right hand, "What did you do, you silly thing? It looks you hit it with a hammer!"
"Haha, yeah, something like that," Hayley replied evasively, as she quickly sat down on a hospital bed.
They had entered a small side room, much like the one she had been in on her previous visit. It had the same disgusting walls and smell, but there was no plaster and bandages laid out for a new cast. Hayley frowned in confusion and scrutinised the x-rays of her damaged bones.
On the wall light box were two x-rays of her hand; one was from her first visit, the other had been taken an hour earlier before she had occupied a seat in the waiting room.
"You're very lucky you know. The break in your fingers is healing nicely and quickly enough that you will no longer need a full plaster cast."
"Seriously? Thank god!" Hayley breathed a sigh of relief.
She held out her hand for the older nurse to carefully and gradually remove the battered cast. The redhead winced as the broken plaster and tape pulled slightly on her fingers as it was being dismantled. The pain was minimal but it still hurt, the tender skin in certain areas. Her fingers felt very weak with the cast fully removed, and it appeared like they had shrunk due to their inactivity. The cool air made Hayley want to wriggle her fingers.
"Now don't start moving anything!" May chastised kindly, as she wiped down the fingers with water and rubbing alcohol. "I know I said you were a quick healer, but a break still takes six to eight weeks to fully heal!"
Hayley nodded in understanding, and let the nurse go about her work.
"Did you come alone today, or is Harry in the waiting room?"
"Oh, erm…no. He's at home. He had a lot of work to do."
"Yes, Peter mentioned you had moved in together."
"He did?"
"After seeing you both on the news together in those pictures…" May tailed off. "Well, I asked Peter if there was any truth in those ridiculous tabloids – "
"What did he say?"
"Nothing at first. It's like getting blood from a stone with Peter, he constantly avoids awkward conversations. He told me that you were with Harry Osborn and that you now live with him," May replied cheerfully. "I don't know what the big fuss was about, but the lies must of affected Peter in some way. I said that I would be happy for him if he had found someone. He has seemed so lost since Gwen's passing…"
Hayley swallowed thickly, realising that she had never really considered how the pictures might have affected Peter in that way. "I think we've all been lost…I know I have," she sighed distantly, before wincing as the first finger splint was put in place. "Did he say much else about, well, about me and Harry?"
As strange and surreal as this conversation was, she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she said to May Parker might be relayed back to Peter. It was crazy to be suspicious of such a kind person, to act so cautious. There was no way May was going to report every single detail of their conversation. Not consciously anyway.
"Not really. Peter's never in the house long enough to have a proper conversation. He's always gallivanting around, probably saving the world, or whatever it is you kids do these days."
"Yeah, Peter does a lot of that," Hayley mumbled uneasily.
Just as the final splint was fixed in place, three strong knocks sounded on the door.
"Come in," May called out merrily.
"Hey Aunt May!" Peter Parker replied as he entered the room, clutching a brown, paper bag in his hand. "You forgot your lunch this mor…" he tailed off when he caught sight of the redhead on the bed.
Shit! So much for not meeting up with Parker today! Harry is going to flip when he finds out!
Their eyes connected, neither one knowing exactly how to act around each other. They were no longer friends, more like enemies. Except that in this form, without his spider suit, Peter was still the same gangly, awkward boy who loved Gwen. He was not her enemy; he was Harry's enemy, and her ex-friend. Enemy was too strong a word when he didn't look like Spider-Man, though she was still furious with Peter for leaving her on that building roof.
Because Spider-Man and Peter were the same person.
I've been a hanging out with Harry too long. Peter doesn't have a split personality. He is Spider-Man. He is my enemy…so why am I not ready to let him go? Hayley thought, a migraine of confusion seeping across her forehead.
"Hey Carmichael," Peter acknowledged awkwardly, shuffling his feet on the floor, a hand ruffling his hair nervously.
"H-Hey Parker," replied Hayley just as uncomfortably.
May looked between the two, shaking her head, "You both look like you've seen a ghost. And using your surnames is so antisocial for friends," she chuckled. "Is that for me, Peter?" she asked, pointing to the paper bag that he was currently scrunching in his hand. "Don't kill it before I've even eaten it! I'll go put it in the staff fridge. You are free to go, Hayley dear," Aunt May explained with a smile, taking the bag from her nephew and heading for the door.
"Thank you, Mrs Parker! I won't break it again!"
"No, but I'm sure Harry will," Peter muttered under his breath as his aunt left the room.
Hayley glared at her former friend. "I think you should leave, Peter."
"Leave? Why would I leave? I'm here to see my Aunt!" he responded indignantly.
"And you just saw her…so, please leave."
Peter put his hands in his hoody pockets, "I'm sorry you know…about the roof thing."
"No you are not!"
"I am!"
"You wouldn't have done it otherwise," Hayley hissed, cradling her splinted fingers. "I can't be seen talking to you, ok? Please, leave."
"It's a free country."
"Don't be awkward Parker."
"Is this another one of Harry's stupid rules?" he asked cockily, seeing through her bravado. "Pretty specific rules, you know, bet that's not the only one, right? You shouldn't let him control you – "
"Fine then! I'll leave!"
Jumping off the bed, Hayley slung her forgotten bag over her shoulder, picked up her coat, and tried to go for the door, which was slightly ajar. Before she could even reach it, Peter moved directly in front of her, blocking her path.
"Move, Parker!"
"We need to talk – "
"Move!"
"Hayley – "
"Please! Please! I can't do this! Please move! Please!" she shrieked tearfully.
"The girl would like you to move," came a familiar Russian voice. "I suggest you comply, Spider. She is not a fly to be trapped in your web."
Peter turned sharply, and Hayley peered over his shoulder to see Kraven the hunter standing in the doorway. He was always so quiet, such a perfect predator, that neither of them had noticed his sudden presence. Hayley thought that he looked odd and out of place against the white door in his camouflage trousers and black, leather, hunter's jacket. The hospital lights glittered in his fierce eyes as he surveyed the situation with poise and militant precision.
"Kraven," Peter responded as he turned, standing slightly taller, chin raised arrogantly.
The hunter nodded, "Peter Parker." Then his eyes looked pointedly at Hayley, "I think we should leave."
"Yes, I think you should too."
Hayley glanced between the two, completely confused because they seemed to know each other. Clearly, she was being kept in the dark…again.
How the hell did they both know each other? She wondered, as she slipped past Peter and led the hunter down the corridors.
"What are you doing here, Kraven?" she asked more harshly than she meant to.
"Mr Osborn sent me," he replied honestly in his usual gruff lilt. "He is very angry you did not take bodyguard to accompany you here."
"Oops."
A sudden and shrill beeping noise made her jump, but Kraven calmly pulled out a cellphone from his jacket. Holding it to his ear, he said, "Yes Mr Osborn, I am with the lamb - "
Hayley rolled her eyes at the sentiment, "Tell him I haven't found any pumpkins yet!"
" - She is safe."
"Like you care," she muttered like a petulant child, her comment not going unheard by Kraven.
She could hear snippets of his agitated voice through the receiver but nothing that formed actual sentences – reception was always bad in hospitals. Although she wished to know what the two men were discussing, Kraven was only giving one-word answers, and she was having difficulties locating the exit since she was apparently leading the way. That was yet another reason why she disliked hospitals; there was either never enough signs, or no matter how many signs there were, you always got lost. Hayley didn't know this part of the hospital well enough like she did the burns unit.
When her predator escort put away the phone, she immediately asked, "So, what did he say?"
"You should not goad him," he replied.
"I know, but sometimes he does ask for it."
"Shall we go back now?" Kraven asked, following the redhead blindly through the maze of corridors.
"Not yet. I think I need some fresh air to clear my head."
The hunter stayed silent for a while, taking notice of her slumped posture and the dark bags under her green eyes. There was a distant look to them, and the whites appeared to be red from crying. She was putting on a brave front but she couldn't fool him. His keen eyesight could still detect the bruises that were peeking out from beneath her scarf.
The stress of living with a villainous predator such as Harry Osborn was obviously getting to her, and it was not the first time that Kraven worried for her safety. Her red hair had lost its shine and her face was overly pale. There was hardly enough meat on her bones to satisfy a lion cub, let alone someone as ferocious as the Goblin…
"Pardon?"
The redhead repeated, "I said I don't want to go home."
"Where would you like to go?" Kraven probed as they entered the deafening waiting room.
"Can we go somewhere quiet?" Hayley yelled over a piercing symphony of crying babies.
"I wouldn't exactly call this quiet," Hayley said, looking around at the various people milling about, "but it is serene, I'll give you that."
"Try to get your body in tune with nature."
Hayley rolled her eyes at the hunter's strange visionary way of seeing the world.
Kraven had taken her to the East River waterfront in Lower Manhattan. The surrounding boulevard and parks were swarming with children and families, but as they reached a small rock beach shore, everyone seemed to have melted away. She could still hear the giant merry-go-round in the background with kids laughing and enjoying themselves on candy coloured horses. Numerous couples were standing along the railings, admiring the view. And what a view it was.
The Brooklyn Bridge stood magnificent and untouchable, the cars trailing along its length appearing like ants. All the buildings on the opposite shore were architecturally stunning, with Hayley appreciating every single bit of detail like a painted picture. Though on closer inspection, she realised that the skyscrapers were a little too familiar. Her mouth went dry and she started to feel queasy; memories of flying high with Spider-Man returned to her. She quickly crouched down and dipped her fingertips into the water as it lapped against the rocky shore. The river's flow seemed more turbulent when up close and personal with it, no longer a sheet of unmoving glass.
Regardless of her arachnid memories, she still couldn't deny that the view was gorgeous, even on such an overcast day. It was slightly windy down by the river, and even though she knew her hair would be in knots later, Hayley released her ponytail, and its ginger strands began to fly in the cool air. She watched the water for a few minutes, getting lost in all the colours and its hypnotic, small waves. Everything was so peaceful down here, and she could see why the hunter had brought her to this spot. Hayley turned her head to see Kraven standing a little way behind her, tall and stoic as always. He seemed to be in deep thought too, or maybe he was getting "in tune with nature" like he had told her to do.
It almost seemed a shame to disturb him but she had questions buzzing in her brain.
"Kraven…you know who Peter Parker is, don't you?"she asked curiously. For a moment it seemed like the older man had not heard her or was buying time to think of a suitable lie, so she was surprised when he revealed the truth.
"I took Spider-Man under my tutelage, to change him from a boy into a man, a true hunter. He excelled, naturally, but he would not take the routes necessary to achieve greatness."
"Killing people?"
"You are sharp, little lamb," Kraven chuckled. "I initially came here to hunt the monsters that OsCorp created…all the cross-species. Even the Spider-Man. Only after he defeated me did Mr Fiers enlist me. When the spider took you, the Goblin trusted me with Parker's true identity. Mr Osborn is far better student than Parker - "
"So you're the one teaching him how to kill people?!" she asked indignantly.
The hunter did not react to the girl's anger; he only stood with his arms crossed, eyes surveying the river. "I am teaching him to control his natural predator instincts, to respect his opponents and not underestimate them. Human life is so fragile, it must be protected from those who seek to destroy it."
Hayley picked up a small pebble and chucked it frustratedly into the water. "How is chopping people's heads off respecting human kind?"
"That…" Kraven paused, "that was unexpected. He has evolved into a far dangerous predator than I could have predicted."
"I just don't understand his angle. Why is he doing this?"
"Mr Osborn has many plans, you would be wise not to question them. Secrets are secrets for a reason, little lamb."
"So I should just ignore the fact that he has explosives under his bed?"
"KRAVINOFF! MISS CARMICHAEL!" came a fast approaching, booming voice. "How good to see you this fine day!"
"Fisk," Kraven returned bitterly.
Hayley looked over her shoulder to see the larger than life man she had met at the benefit. She smiled at the pristine, suited man, offering him a little wave out of curtesy. Wilson Fisk was the kind of rich person she loathed, dressed to the nines and shoving his money under everyone's nose. By the sour look on Kraven's face, it appeared the hunter had a great dislike for the man too.
"What business have you here, Fisk?" the hunter probed, his eyes immediately darting to where Hayley stood by the shore's edge.
"Relax Kravinoff," Wilson Fisk reassured, puffing out his burly chest as he spoke, "my business is with you, not the girl."
The men shared an intense look before walking a small way away from Hayley so they could talk in private. The redhead frowned in frustration since she knew their conversation was most likely about her or Harry.
"Yet another secret being kept from me, no doubt," she sighed to herself whilst assessing her feelings towards the wealthy man.
Like Kraven, he was an intimidating man, but mostly due to his large height and size; he did not have muscles like the hunter. The alarm came from how Fisk chose to present himself. No one wore a white suit or had a diamond encrusted cane unless they wanted to use their money as a tool of power. At least Harry despised his rich status and didn't flaunt it at any given moment. Even the type of cigar the man was smoking appeared like it cost more than all the clothes she was wearing. No doubt it was an imported Cuban.
Kraven and Fisk were too far away for her to hear any of their conversation, and any other day she would have tried harder to eavesdrop, but after today she just needed to escape from all this. So instead, her eyes focused on the plume of smoke swirling up from the cigar, the way the little grey cloud billowed and swirled in the air. It was strangely mesmerising, the burning end glowing orange, standing out in her gaze like a lighthouse beacon. Hayley was even getting hints of its aromatic smell on the wind. She had always found the sight of smoke alluring…
Blinking rapidly, she grabbed a couple more stones and chucked them violently into the river. Droplets of water splashed her face, and a couple of people turned to stare at the redhead's strange behaviour. Hayley glared back at them until they looked away.
Nosey people, Hayley thought, can't they see I just want to be left alone?
She sighed and instead of being violent, she tried to calmly skim small, smooth pebbles across the river. Her technique sucked, especially since her preferred hand had two out of action fingers. Apparently the skill to skipping stones was all in the wrist, something that unfortunately her left hand was greatly inadequate at.
Her latest stone plopped after two short skims, making the water ripple in an elegant circle. Hayley stared at the pattern, engrossed by its simplistic beauty. Everything in life had a ripple effect because that's what life choices were about; cause and effect.
Like her relationship with Harry; sometimes they were a smoothly sailing pebble, happy and content on their course. Other times their choices shattered the serene equilibrium and they began to fall apart, growing further away from each other with each ripple event. The more she considered this point of view, the more she realised how deep an issue Peter Parker was for Harry in her relationship with him.
He probably felt rejected and humiliated when he'd seen the pictures of her and Peter. No doubt he felt emasculated and useless when Spider-Man had "kidnapped" her. And though she had returned to him, came back because she loved him, there was always going to be that fear that she could one day leave again. Leave him for Spider-Man and the side of good. Leave him for Peter and rekindle her friendship with him. Their constant bickering most likely exacerbated these issues.
"I need to make it up to him," Hayley said aloud to herself, "I need to show him that I understand his fears, that I do love him. I know I didn't do anything wrong, but he's just insecure under all that bravado…even the Goblin."
She glanced back to Kraven, and when their eyes connected there was a silent understanding between them both; she now understood what he had told her the other day; she needed to save Harry from himself.
God, Kraven really knows what he's talking about when he says to connect with nature, Hayley considered with a smile.
The hunter was a crafty and philosophical man, and even though she did not approve of his relationship with Harry, she couldn't think of a better father figure. Kraven was better than Fisk any day, and Harry needed direction, needed guidance. Sure, killing people was not exactly what she had in mind, however Kraven seemed much more than just a heartless, killing machine. He had a clear code, and Hayley hoped that that would eventually rub off on Harry before he did something stupid.
Standing, Hayley decided that she'd done enough wallowing in her own depressive thoughts. As soon as she returned to the manor she would make it up to Harry. To be so disconnected from him hurt more than it did to love him.
She gazed out at the late afternoon sun and how it bathed Manhattan in a beautiful, fiery glow. Leaning down to grab a stone for one final skim, her hand curled around something strange, something scratchy and rectangular…
Hayley glanced down to see a zippo lighter in her left hand. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed over its surface, noticing that someone had coated over the gold, chrome metal with green paint. It was chipped and worn, probably battered by the rise and fall of the tide. She flicked open the cap and was pleasantly surprised to see a small flame burning brightly. It was so beautiful…
"Miss Carmichael?"
"Shit!" Hayley hissed as Kraven's low voice made her jump, causing her thumb to be burnt by the lighter. "You know you can call me Hayley, right? Or that lamb thing."
"It is time to return to Mr Osborn," Kraven said gently, turning to leave the rocky shore.
"Where did Wilson Fisk go?" she asked, choosing to not follow the hunter. She was too busy staring at the intriguing lighter she had found.
Kraven observed the redhead's strange behaviour, once again coming to the conclusion that she wasn't as innocent a lamb as he had previously thought.
"He had an appointment elsewhere. And before you ask, no, I cannot share what we spoke of."
"Thought so," Hayley replied with a shrug, flicking open and closed the lighter cap repeatedly. "Harry and I have been fighting a lot."
"Yes. I am aware."
"I think it's because he wants to bring out this other side of me, a side that I've tried to supress for years. I'm scared to go that place again. I-I-I did something terrible…" the redhead whispered shakily, her eyes tearing from the memory. "I can't loose control again. I-I can't be the person he wants me to be…I just can't do it!"
"We must know all ourselves, even the bad, to achieve control of our destiny. One cannot know themselves, their place in this world, if they keep a part of them secret," Kraven contemplated, motioning for the little lamb to follow him.
So that's why Harry and the Goblin are merging together, Hayley understood.
She pocketed the lighter and walked away from the shore with the philosophical hunter. "So, what do you suggest?"
"I suggest you no longer live your life as a lie," the hunter urged. "Stop fighting…and give in."
She had fully expected Harry to be home, sitting all smug with a grin like the Cheshire cat, ready to go into round three of their argument. However, she found the apartment silent and dark with all the curtains drawn. It was spooky with nothing but the dusk sun and streetlight glare coating the room and furniture in a blue film of window silhouettes.
Was the Goblin home? A ghoul or spectre would not be out of place in a setting such as this, and that scared Hayley. There were many haunts and rooms for Harry to be lurking in, because in the darkness was where he flourished, where he was at home with his inner self. Whereas she clung to the light, no matter how much the darkness tried to pull her in…there was always the light.
One flickering flame of light, she thought. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward….
Flipping the light switch, Hayley breathed easy now that every dark and scary crevice was filled with wonderful light. The illumination gave her just a tad more confidence to enter the apartment with her head held high, though she did try to keep her footsteps as quiet as the marble floor would allow. Her fingers moved by her side, flicking up and down the cap of her newly discovered lighter. She could feel the heat of the small flame tumbling across her fingertips, before abruptly shutting it with a frown – hadn't Harry burnt the fingerprints from Becca and Cheryl? It was an ingenious measure, though she would never tell him that.
A small, ghost of a smile blossomed on her face at the sight of, or rather lack of, bottles and rubbish. The whole place, including Harry's sofa of squalid solitude, had been cleaned.
Was this his way of apologising?
In her glee, she almost missed a white box with a note on the polished and newly cleared coffee table.
"Really, Harry? More jewellery?" Hayley muttered with an accompanying eye roll.
As she rounded the sofas for closer inspection, she could see that the box was not leather or that of an expensive brand. It was just a simple, white, battered, shallow cardboard box. Hayley's brow furrowed as she bent down to retrieve the note with Harry's familiar scrawl on it;
Enjoy…
G.
"First a present from Harry, now one from the Goblin," she said sarcastically, laughing at how hilarious and mysterious he was.
Her smile dropped as soon as the gift was unwrapped, for inside the grubby box was a slice of pie with a flurry of whipped cream.
Pumpkin pie.
"That smug bastard."
A cell phone vibrated noisily on a wooden bureau, prompting an older woman with a sleek, jet-black bob, to stop typing on her expensive laptop. She peered down at the number flashing on the screen as she picked up her ringing cell. The caller was not one she recognised, but since this was her work phone, she decided to answer the call anyway. Though the late hour did perturb her slightly.
Many of her clients knew to only contact her during specific hours unless it was an emergency.
An unfamiliar voice came through the receiver.
"Hello?" she answered curtly. "Yes, this is she."
When they spoke again to introduce themselves, she was able to put a face to the voice.
"Oh, how wonderful to speak to you again. Of course I remember you from the trial, yes," the woman answered professionally, quickly grabbing a sticky note block and jotted down what the caller was saying.
The voice spoke again with a hint of urgency and panic.
"I am aware of your unique situation, yes," the forty-five year old smiled arrogantly, her ruby red lips appearing almost triumphant in nature. The colour vibrant matched her long nails, which tapped interestedly on the pen in her hand.
She paused to listen to the caller's request.
"A session?" the woman's smirk widened. "Of course, I am sure I can pencil you in."
The woman scribbled down a few notes and specifics as the caller continued to speak.
"Don't worry about the time, you may call me on this line whenever you wish."
She listened closely to the caller's final words, trying to detect emotional hints in their voice.
"Wonderful to speak to you again. Yes, next week should be fine. I look forward to seeing you. Yes, you too. Goodbye now. Bye."
Grinning at her now silent phone, the woman pushed her tortoise shell glasses up the bridge of her nose, before writing down the caller's phone number whilst also adding it to her list of contacts. She had been waiting a very long time for that phone call. To know that she was right, that there were issues, that she had predicted this outcome was extremely satisfying.
Doctor Emily Baker leaned back in her expensive leather chair, viewing the name for the new contact on her phone screen. Truthfully, she hadn't anticipated being contacted directly and not through a third party, such as Dave Manners. However, she couldn't complain, in fact, you could say that she was quite looking forward to a potential new session next week.
Emily Baker liked nothing more than working with high profile clients. And there was no one more high profile than the couple of the moment. Oh yes, she had been waiting for this phone call indeed.
You all should see me when I watch TASM2 – when Harry speaks to Felicia I'm just like, "Fuck you Felicia, Harry loves Hayley!" …yes, I am loosing my mind! Still love Fe though - she's growing on me!
Also, when Kraven speaks about Spider-Man, he is referencing events in the video game canon, for anyone who has played it or would like to know :)
To all my readers, new and old – I value each one of you and I hope I continue to deliver an exciting story for you all. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed. MUCH LOVE XXX
P.S. For the record, I don't hate all medical professionals – I've just had more bad experiences that outweigh the good, but I still respect everything they do!