Author's Notes: This is an 'alternate universe' story about what might have happened if Mary Jane Watson weren't in the picture (not for too long, anyway). Modern story, because it is based on the movie, not the comics. This takes place directly after "Spider-man 2", and spins into it's own thing. It can be sappy at points, but IMO it isn't too much ; It's very sweet, Peter/Harry coupling, and it does have enough angst to keep it from being pointless fluff. So, without further ado, here! Sorry for all the bold underlining, but I do have to warn about the SLASH. If you're M/M-phobic, do not read or review, please!

Part One

Scene 01: Saying Goodbye Too Soon

"It's just like you would have wanted it; everyone's eyes are on you, and...you're beautiful."

The soft words lightly swept over the face of the young lady lying still among the layers of white silk. A tear fell on her fair, soft skin, tracing down the curves of her complexion delicately and seeping into a tendril of red hair. The shoulders of the youth standing over her hunched as he collapsed, having to crip the side of the casket lightly to stay on his feet.

"It's my fault," he said softly, gazing down at her through streams of tears. "I couldn't save you. You chose me, and I couldn't be there for you."

He was alone beside the open casket, as all the others had already laid their roses atop her chest, and were huddled in small groups around the lavish room, talking in a hush about the tragedy. The youth's words were not completely unheard, however; standing within earshot, just a few feet from the casket, was another young man with wavy dark brown hair and a good-looking face, dressed in a distinct black suit for the funeral. His eyes watched the man in front of the casket discreetly, from the very corners, and he frowned ever-so-slightly.

I know I should say something, the thin youth thought to himself. He was there for me, when...

...No...that was his fault in the very first place.

Wasn't it?

He turned towards the sobbing man. Peter Parker, my best friend who was at my side when my father was buried...and who was the one who killed my father at the same time. Hypocrite. How could I comfort him now? How could I!

Nonetheless, he approached Peter, and even went as far as to extend a hand towards him. Peter turned to face him before, and he withdrew his hand before it was able to offer any comfort. The two said nothing for a moment, eyes searching one another's for a clue as to the other's emotions.

"Harry..."

"People die around you, Peter," Harry Orborn quickly cut his old friend off. His face was cold now, although his eyes glimmered with conflict. "Your uncle was on his way to pick you up, and he was shot in cold blood. My father faced off with you, and you murdered him. Even Doc. Ock, who was your scientific idol once, died by your hand."

Peter stared at him in absolute shock. "!"

Harry's thin hand swept over the side of the casket, face softening as he looked in at the girl. "And now Mary Jane leaves her wedding to be at your side, and she gets hit by a truck." He turned back to the stunned, fast-crumbling Peter coolly. "Funny that no matter how many nobody's you've saved, you're never able to save the people important to you."

"I don't save nobody's, I save people," Peter said angrily, keeping his voice low and glancing around. "And you have to know that if I could have any of those four be alive today, I would."

"I'm not saying you wouldn't," Harry said nonchalantly. "I'm just noting your body count."

Peter's shoulders sagged, and he shook his head. "...I don't want to fight with you, Harry," he said quietly, "especially not here, not now."

"You sure?" The thin youth advanced on Peter, eyes glaring viciously. Their bodies nearly touched. "You don't want to kill me the way you did my father?"

"Don't be that way," Peter whispered, light eyes downcast.

Harry just faced him stubbornly, almost childish in his desire to fight. Peter took a step back, and then looked at him with a subtle firmness. "I need to talk to you, Harry."

Harry blinked, taken slightly off guard by the misplaced request. "Huh?"

"It's just us now," Peter said, motioning towards Mary Jane's lifeless figure. "I don't want to fight, and I don't want you to hate me."

"So?"

"So, I'll be at your home tonight," Peter informed him. "After the...funeral."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Peter spoke first.

"Just let me mourn MJ until then, ok?" he begged exhaustedly. "Please."

Harry shut his mouth, eyeing her anxiously. MJ...I'd almost forgotten...that she's gone now...

Peter slipped into the crowd before Harry looked up again. He looked after Peter, but decided to let him go. Giving his ex-girlfriend one last, sad gaze, he exited the parlor. On the streets, he turned his face to the overcast sky, exhaling laboredly, and shut his eyes.

But even now, even here...Parker is all I can think or care about. How can my preoccupation with him overshadow the loss of the woman I once loved? Why don't I feel her death as deeply as I should? Is it because...she never loved me? Because she loved him...

Parker...

Spider-man...

Maybe I am obsessed.

His eyes slid open again and he stood still in the wind for a long moment. Then, he removed a thin silver flask from his coat pocket, and took a long swig as he approached a waiting limosuine. Climbing in, he moodily demanded, "Take me home."

The driver seemed startled, undoubtedly because the funeral had not ended yet. Nonetheless, he knew better than to argue with an Osborn. "Yes sir."

Harry looked out the window at the building, knowing he would miss the procession to the cementary, not caring. Even the alcahol could not erase his muddled feelings for Peter Parker; in fact, the more drunk he became, the sharper the pain was.

I can't...I can't stop thinking about him! Both of them...both...No. No, it's the same person! It's him, it's...it's all him!

What does he want from me, anyway? Is he going to dare and try to explain his murdering my father?

The youth exhaled, frown fading, and leaned back in his seat. He stared out the window, eyes glimmering with a wistful look. Give me a reason, Peter. Give me a reason to forgive you...

But even if I do forgive you, we can never go back, can we? He's not even the Peter Parker I used to know, he's...almost another entity, this...'Spider-man'. The Spider-man who killed my father...

But maybe...just maybe...there is a reason why...more of a reason than I know right now...

Please, tell me, Peter...Tell me why...and...let it be enough for me to forgive you.

Scene 02: Shadows Over Reconciliation

Upon returning home, Harry's mood worsened. He went back and forth pacing, caught between a smidgeon of hope and a torrent of anger. His head was aching from the blur of intoxication, and his heart felt as if it were ripping apart. "Peter..."

All the memories of his once-dorky, dependable friend filled his heart. He had always been so sweet, all too happy to help with homework or listen to Harry's problems with a sympathetic ear. Not once had he ever complained or argued or insulted Harry, even though they were as different as night and day. He was a helping hand, a comforting voice, a sidekick, and most importantly a friend...during a time when Harry had been somewhat avoided due to his intimidating social status as an heir. Peter had always been there...

Then there was the mental image he had of Spider-man...the psuedo-hero who left behind death as much as he saved people. This was a human, but barely a human, so detached from the world he hid in costume and mask. He claimed to save people, to help people...but...

"It doesn't make any sense!"

It was beyond Harry how quiet, geeky Peter Parker was suddenly a phenomenom that swept through the city anonymously killing 'bad guys' and saving the innocent with the powers of being a human-insect hybrid. Peter would save people at the drop of a hat, Harry knew that, but would he kill in order to do so? Peter wouldn't hurt a fly...how could he have watched his father die, and even Dr. Octavius, and whomever else had died? Even if they were doing wrong, even if they were evil...did Peter really have it in him to take their lives? Did he really think he had the right to kill anyone? Peter?

Harry brooded for the rest of the morning, finally passing out on the chaise lounge from drunkenness. The hours slipped by in the dark room, marked only by the ticking of the massive grandfather clock near the entrance.

"Mr. Osborn? Mr. Osborn."

Harry awoke to his butler's quiet voce. "Hunnmmpphh?"

"There is a Peter Parker here to see you."

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, send him in."

He sat up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes sleepily. As his vision cleared, Peter came into view. His eyes were also red and puffy, and he was still in his funeral suit (which looked like a rental). Harry looked him up and down. "Not using the balcony this time? Spider-man?" he asked nastily.

"I'm not Spider-man, Harry," Peter said wearily.

"Why? Suit at the cleaners?"

"No, Harry! There is no Spider-man anymore," Peter tried to explain, stepping furhter into the expansive room. "Without Mary Jane, I can't use any of my powers."

Harry's eyes lit with interest. "Really?" He stood, slowly making his way to Parker. "You have no shooting webs or super-human strength? No lightning reflexes? No wall-climbing ability?"

"Nothing. I don't think I ever will again."

Harry drew a decorational (but sharp) dagger from its holder on a table. "So this time..." He pointed it directly beneath Peter's chin.

"This time, it would kill me." Peter met his old friend's eyes directly. "But I know you won't kill me."

"How can you be so sure!" Harry shouted at him. The blade pressed into Peter's flesh, pricking his neck. "You killed my father! You think I won't avenge him!"

"He wouldn't want you to!"

"How do you know that! You didn't know him! I knew him! I was his son!"

"I was with him when he died, that's how I know!" Peter admitted tensely. "But I can't tell you anything more than that."

"Why!"

"Because it was his dying request that I don't!"

The dagger lowered, and Harry stared at the floor. "..."

"He didn't want you to remember how he died, or why," Peter said cautiously, rubbing his neck. "He would have wanted you to remember him, the way he was..."

"...before the Green Goblin."

The dagger fell from Harry's hand, clattering on the floor. Peter gaped at him, frowning in confusion. "What?"

Harry stumbled away from him, holding his head at the temple. "..."

"You knew?"

"I know now." Harry drew a shuddery breath, leaning on an old, heavy wood desk. "My father...used himself as the test subject...and it drove him crazy...it failed. The experiment failed, and he became...a monster...He killed all those people. He almost killed MJ..."

"Even under the influence of those chemicals, in that altered state...he was doing everything for your sake, Harry."

Harry whipped around. "You're saying it's my fault!"

"No! No!" Peter said quickly, holding up his hands in defense. "I'm saying that he loved you, and he...wouldn't want to see you like this."

"...Like this..."

Peter tentatively approached him. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Harry faced him suddenly.

"Then why didn't you save him!" he shouted in anguish. He grabbed Peter by the shirt and shook him violently. "Why couldn't you bring him back to me! WHY!"

"Because the monster that took control of him used his body to battle me to the death!" Peter exclaimed. "He was using the hoverboard as a weapon...he aimed it at me, and...and I jumped out of the way! And..."

"No...No, I don't want to hear this!" Harry said, tearing away from Peter and stumbled aside.

"And it impaled him," Peter said softly. "I tried to save him before that. Do you think I didn't try! Do you really believe that I would have let him die if there had been any chance of saving him?"

"No...yes...I don't know." Harry collapsed onto the chaise, holding his head in his hands. "You're not a killer, Peter, but...but then why is my father dead?"

"If you really believe I am to blame, then kill me," Peter said listlessly. "If it would make you happy, honestly, do it. But just be prepared for what death...looks like...feels like..."

Harry glanced up at him, and for the first time he saw Peter's eyes through and through. They were no longer bright and clear, but flat and dead, their light blue shade giving them a ghostly look. And for the first time in years, he looked older, and this time he looked worn. It was evident now how Mary Jane's death had destroyed him.

"Be prepared to wake up every morning and look in the mirror...and know you have so many deaths over your head. To...not have a single night where you don't see them, hear them, and to have to tear yourself away from an endless trance of wondering 'what if' and doubting every single move you made..." Peter stood over Harry, looking at him with sympathy. "If you have to kill me, then kill me...but...I really hope you don't. Not because I want to live, but...so you don't ever suffer the way I have."

Harry stared up at him. He's sincere...I can tell...He sounds like the Peter I know, only...weighed down by the entire world...by all that pain...

Pain?

"You think you're the only one that hurts?" Harry asked bitterly. He stood, coming at Peter so fast that the other youth backed away. "Don't give me that tortured hero crap! What the hell do you know about pain!"

"How can you say that to me today?" Peter asked, looking deeply wounded. "I buried the only woman I'll ever love today!"

"I lost my father!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs.

"You're not the only one who's ever suffered!" Peter yelled back, something he never would have done years ago. "I know you're hurting, but so am I, damn it! I've lost almost everyone I love!"

"But I didn't take them from you!" Harry pointed out. "I've never hurt you, Peter! And you took my father away from me!"

"Are you forgetting that you almost stole MJ from me! Knowing I loved her!"

"So what, killing my father was revenge!"

"NO!" Peter exploded, beyond the point of exasperation. "I didn't murder him! I would have saved him if I could have! Believe me, I know exactly what you're going through--"

Harry slapped him hard across the face. "Don't say you understand! You've never even had a father to lose!"

Peter blinked in surprise, and then shocked them both by returning the slap; however, his hand hit with more-than-human impact, and Harry was knocked far to the floor, crying out in pain. Horrified, Peter ran to him and knelt at his side.

Clutching his cheek, Harry glowered at him through a blur of tears. "I thought you had no powers!" he yelled, dismayed and hurt.

"I didn't think so, either..." Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I really, really don't want to hurt you...any more than I already have...Please, believe me. You're all I have left now!"

Peter looked ready to cry himself, but Harry suddenly embraced him. Stunned, Peter hesitantly held him, as Harry felt himself breaking down, sobbing into Peter's shirt. I want to believe him, he thought as he cried loudly, but how can I? How can I forgive him? But...I want to forgive him...I...

"You haven't cried like this in years," Peter said softly, smiling a little. His grip on Harry tightened. "Don't cry because of me."

"Just...just shut up!" snapped the abashed, shaken youth.

"It's okay, you've cried in front of me before," Peter said softly into Harry's ear, holding him closely now. "Remember when you failed all your science courses?"

"Yeah." Sniffling, he made a small, amused sound. "I hated having to disappoint my father, especially after my geeky friend had impressed him so much. But you--"

"--told you that I wouldn't let you fail anything again," Peter finished. He drew Harry back a little, to look him in the eye. "And after that, I never let you hand in anything unless I'd double-checked it. Remeber what you said on your next report card?"

"Thank God for you, Peter," Harry whispered. "...The same thing I said...after I buried my father."

Peter stood, helping his rattled friend to his feet. "Do you really think I would have killed him in cold blood? I understand how you thought Spider-man would, since he was a stranger whom you saw bring your father's body home without saying a word; but now that you know it was me, do you really think the same thing of me?"

"I don't...know what to think, Peter," Harry mumbled, holding his head. "I saw you bring him back...and you didn't say anything...I know you promised him you wouldn't, but...but...I wasn't there...How do I know you're not lying to me now?"

Peter led him to the chaise and sat him down. "Just give me the chance to prove to you that I'm still your best friend, that I'm still the same...Peter Parker..."

"Peter..." Harry stared at him for a long moment, and then turned his face. The handprint was still red on his cheek, and burning. "No. You've changed."

"I have changed, but so have you," Peter said. "We're older, but we're not different people, and I know for a fact we haven't outgrown each other. I still need you in my life, and I know deep down...you need me, too. Who else do we have, Harry?"

"...But you don't have to believe me right now," Peter said, squeezing Harry's hand briefly and standing. "Just take care of yourself, and try...please try not to hate me. That's all I'll ask of you, all want...all...your father would have wanted."

"My father..." Harry's eyes shifted to the far right side of the wall, where a huge white drape cloth hung over the space where the mirror used to be. "..."

Peter followed his gaze, taking note of the cloth, and then leaned down and gripped Harry's shoulder again. Not knowing what else to say or do, he turned and began to leave.

"...Peter!"

Peter stopped and turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Tell me everything that happened with my father," Harry demanded. He caught Peter's reluctance, and went on to insist, "I need to know! Please! I wasn't able to be there with him..."

"But you were the only person he was thinking of," Peter said softly. He exhaled, pushing his hair back, and returned to the sitting area. "Okay. I'll tell you everything that happened, from the beginning."

The evening faded into a cool, moist-smelling night as Peter relayed the tale of Norman Osborn's desperate last experiment, in which he used himself as the test subject. Fresh tears fell from the young heir's eyes, as they repeatedly shifted to the mirror's place, and he was hugging himself subconsciously for comfort. Peter watched him, his own heart twisting, but spoke steadily until he had told it all.

"I only jumped out of the way," he concluded. "I would have stopped it from hitting him, but it happened so fast...Maybe I shouldn't have gotten out of the way..."

"No, I'm glad you saved yourself, Peter," Harry said quietly. "That monster had to be stopped, it's just...I wish it could have turned out differently..."

"Me too."

There was a heavy silence between then. The long drapes in front of the terrace doors swayed gently in the breeze, moonlight briefly shining in and illuminating the dark, antique-filled residence.

"...I forgive you, Peter."

It was little more than a whisper, but it got Peter's attention like a shot. "You do?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know if I ever even intended not to forgive you."

The moonlight faded away as clouds overcome the sky. The room darkened.

"...Hey, do you want to stay for dinner?"

A bit confused, Peter frowned. "Uh...I'm sorry, I...I have to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, staring at the floor blankly. "I hate being alone in this place."

"You'll be fine, Harry," Peter assured him, standing and stretching. "You're stronger than you think, you know."

"No, Peter...I'm not."

The breeze brushed in the scent of rain, and within moments a patter of water could be heard. Harry exhaled. I always hated the rain...

"You are. Your father thought so, I think so."

"My father didn't think I was strong." Harry walked over to the terrace doors. "He always admired your strength, your independance, your genius..."

"Is that what you think?" Peter asked incredulously. "Harry, your father thought I'd be a good hire for OsCorp, that's all!"

"You didn't hear the way he talked about you all the time," Harry said sullenly, shutting the terrace doors. "You didn't see the regret in his eyes when he looked at me."

"You're right, I didn't," Peter agreed, "because there wasn't any! Even as the Green Goblin, everything he did was for your sake."

"You're saying it's my fault!"

"No!" Peter exclaimed. "I'm saying there was nothing, not even those chemicals, that could have stopped him from loving you. God, Harry, he would have done anything for you! How can you think he favored me?"

"You heard the way he gushed about you!"

"He was trying to make you competitive, that's all, so you could outdo me," Peter explained. "And maybe he did regret some things about raising you, since you were so sheltered, but he knew there was no other way he possibly could have raised you. The only thing he ever wanted was to protect you."

"Yes, and he did such a great job," Harry said bitterly. He went to the dry bar and began to pour himself a drink.

"Don't say that."

Harry was a little amused at Peter's scolding tone, but he couldn't argue that he was right. "I didn't mean it," he said quietly. "I just...I don't know."

Suddenly, something hit the side of Harry's glass, just as he was about to take a sip, and it was snatched from his hand. Baffled, he turned to Peter, and the saw glass in his hand, tangled in a stringy web.

"He did do a great job, probably too good a job," Peter told him. "But...it's your responsibility to see his efforts through. If you choose to be weak this way, it's your fault, and no one else's."

Harry gaped at him. Is this really Peter? He's still quiet, but it isn't out of fear or shyness. He's strong, certain...even reprimanding. We're the same age, but he's...he's speaking like...like my father, actually. When did he grow up?

Peter dumped the glass into the fireplace, and then left without another word. Harry fell into a chair, chagrined and confused.

"I sincerely hope that was only a ploy."

It was a voice he'd heard all his life, but now it chilled his blood. The young man looked around frantically. "Huh?"

"Tell me you haven't really forgiven him."

"I...YES! I DID!" Harry shouted defiantly, jumping to his feet. "Peter's my best friend! I believe him!"

"Oh, Harry...your weakness never ceases to amaze me...or to disappoint me."

"I'm not weak!" Harry defended himself, holding his head in his hands as pain began to seep in. "I'm not weak! Peter told me that I'm strong!"

"Peter told you, Peter told you," the voice mocked him. "What about what I tell you! Am I or am I not your father!"

"You're not!" Harry told him, walking towards the drape cloth. "You're that monster!"

"Is that what Parker told you? That I'm not the same? That we're two separate beings? LOOK AT ME!"

Harry's eyes fell to the fragments of glass on the floor. Within each one, he could see a reflection of his father.

"How can you say I'm not your father?"

Harry stared into the glass in terror. "...!"

"That was an excuse, a lie!" Norman Osborn's image told his son. "Parker doesn't want you to see him as the man whom killed your father, but he is that man! It doesn't matter if he calls me the Green Goblin or anything else! I am your father!"

Harry fell to his knees, shards of glass slicing through his pants and cutting his knees. "Dad..."

"That's right, son," Norman said, tone softer but his voice still cruel. "I am your father, and would you deny me vengence? You would choose Parker over me?"

"No, I...I love Peter!" Harry confessed tearfully. He stared away from the glass, shocked by the words. "I...love...Peter..." His eyes returned to the floor and traced over the glass, each piece slicing his hands. "Please, don't make me choose!"

"It shouldn't be a choice, you sniveling coward!" Normal screamed at his son. "You shouldn't even doubt avenging me!"

"Dad..."

"Stop crying! If you want me to be proud of you, you have to earn my pride! No more freebies, no more coddling! If you want me to love you, you have to kill Parker and avenge me!"

"No, please...please, dad...Dad?" Harry searched the glass wildly, but his father was gone. "No, no don't leave me! Don't hate me! Father...please...please don't be disappointed with me!"

He took the shards into his hands, blood mingling with his falling tears. "I don't want to be weak, anymore, but...I don't want to hate Peter...I don't want to hate Peter...I can't hate Peter! I...I...Why am I so weak!"

Scene 03: One Last Promise

In his dirty, dingy apartment, Peter Parker was also facing demons. He was too numb to cry anymore, and so he sat on the floor, staring blankly out the window. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and it gave the entire world a morose feeling.

Peter's confrontation with Harry Osborn was long forgotten; in his mind, all he could see was MJ, first in life...and then in death. He would never believe she was gone, but at the same time, he would never see her again...

"She was coming to me...she chose me...and she died."

The words drifted into the dark silence as the young man's consciousness waned. Before he even realized he was asleep, he was dreaming. At least, he thought he was dreaming; he found himself back in the Osborn living room, on his feet looking around.

"Peter..."

Alarmed, he looked around the collection of old furniture. The air was heavy and smelled moist, but outside it was day and the sunlight was shining in through the widnows. The drape cloth was gone, and the mirror intact. Peter approached it hesitantly. "Harry?"

"No, Peter. It's me."

As he got closer, Peter realized the reflection in the mirror was not his own; standing on the other side of the mirror was Norman Osborn.

"Mr. Osborn!"

"Hello, Peter," Normal said, a bit mournful but otherwise just as Peter remembered him to be. There was no malice on his face or in his eyes, only a deep-set concern. "I'm sorry to be disturbing you like this, on the night you lost Mary Jane."

"Am I--"

"Dreaming?" Mr. Osborn nodded. "Yes, in the sense that you are not conscious."

"I never got to tell you...I'm so sorry..."

"No, I am the one who is sorry, Peter," Mr. Osborn told him. "In my fervor to give my son the world, I ended up being the one who hurt him the most."

Peter felt a pang of sympathy, and couldn't think of anything to say. Staring into the face of the man he'd watched die, he began to wonder if Harry was right to hate him for letting Norman die.

"When you said that I couldn't have raised him any other way, you were dead on," Mr. Osborn went on. "From the moment he was born, that beautiful little baby...I was determined to protect him from ever feeling the pain I felt growing up. But while I was preoccupied with protecting him from petty things like poverty and hard work, I let him fall prey to more hindering realities, like being left naive and deluded in believing he could buy anything and anyone he wanted. Yes, I left him spoiled, and a tad bit of a brat. But he can't be blamed for it; all his life, he was cared for, and so why would he want anything less? But now that he has no one to take care of him anymore, during the years he would have needed me most, I can't be there for him. My ambitions for both of us got the best of me, and now I can't reach him anymore."

"You didn't have bad intetions," Peter told him. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, it was. It was, and I admit it," Norman said. "However, I'm afraid it is too little, too late, coming from me. You are the one I must burden with my responsibilities."

"What? Me?"

"Yes. You are the only one who can save my son, Peter."

"Is he in danger? He seemed okay," Peter said uncertainly. "He even forgave me."

"He wants to forgive you, Peter," Norman said, "but he is very confused still. There is something happening inside him, and I'm afraid that if no one reaches out to help him, he will follow in my path of manic ambition...and ultimately be destroyed in the same way."

"No!" Peter said fiercely, surprising himself a little. "I won't let that happen! I can't lose him, too."

"Will you save him, then, Peter? Will you save my son?"

"I... don't know how," Peter said. "I couldn't save my uncle or Dr. Octavius...or MJ...I'm not sure if I can save anyone anymore."

"If you want to save him, you'll be able to," Norman said certainly. "But the desire has to be there."

"Of course I want to help him!"

Normal smiled. "Then be there for him, and you'll both be fine."

"...Sir..."

"And Peter."

"I am grateful that you stopped the Green Goblin, even if I had to die," Norman reassured him. "Don't you ever carry any guilt around over that."

"...Thank you, Mr. Osborn."

"No, thank you, Peter."

End of Part One