Certain Inequities
An In Medias Res Spiderman Fanfiction
By Ang D

A/N: This story is in medias res, meaning that it takes place during the events in the Spiderman film. It also incorporates the events from my other in medias res, "Distortions", briefly. It takes place before and during the scene towards the end of the movie, where Norman speaks to Harry on the stairs, promising to be a better father to him. ... Basically, I just started wondering what was going on upstairs when Harry came in, and this happened. ... The song cited, "Dreams of Our Fathers", is just a perfect Osborn lyric, and you can read it in its entirety here ... I encourage it, it's terrific.

I don't want to wake up
Lost in the Dreams of our Fathers
Oh, it's such a shame child
To live and die for the Dreams of our Fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
It must be the Dreams of our Fathers
~ Dave Matthews Band, "Dreams of Our Fathers"

I remember the way I leant against the fireplace mantel, shaking.

Broken.

Listening to, believing, obeying every word that rang in my ears, leaving a taste in the back of my throat, a sour-sweet tang like cold metal. I didn't want to be stopped - he was right, I was right, we'd come so far. Only one obstacle in our way.

The funhouse mirrors had presented me with my first option - to find the little spider, and appeal him to his own reflection. Obviously, that wasn't working. So, I'd tried the first thing that had come to mind: I'd threatened him directly. The tactic had always worked rather well in the business industry - if you tell someone that you're going to pull their name from the payroll unless they up their performance, you can bet they'll do it.

Unfortunately, I was learning my second lesson: this wasn't business, anymore.

It was far, far too personal.

Parker ... of all the people in New York City, he'd had to be Peter frigging Parker. The boy ... I liked the boy. He was smart, he had drive, he wanted to make it on his own. Peter was everything that I had hoped for my Harry to be, the perfect Osborn son. And when he had decided to be Harry's college roommate, I sprung at the chance to get to know him better. Unfortunately, my work schedule and my efforts to keep Oscorp in Osborn hands where it belonged had taken a toll on my personal time. I'd been looking forward to that Thanksgiving dinner, really, I had. Not just for meeting Harry's girlfriend, but in anticipation of some chatter with Peter over turkey and stuffing. The young man was just the sort to have a decent, refreshing, intellectual conversation with. But then ... oh, then, when he showed up with that gash on his arm. The drop of blood that seemed to fall off the ceiling, the look in his eyes when he told me that it had been a bike messenger that injured him ... when, all the while, I knew the truth - that it had been one of my own weapons!

Peter, Peter, Peter. Why did it have to be you? I'd had such hopes for you.

And that - that was the truth behind why I'd been broken. I'd cared about the boy. Like a second son. But as I'd stood in front of the fire, I'd heard the other side of things ... did I really want my son, the true Osborn, Harry, living in close quarters with the little spider? The very thought of it ... of him and Peter and that Mary whatever her name was ... the thought of them going out and blissfully, ignorantly enjoying themselves while I struggled with these demons and these angers ... of the little spider, whose gifts were so like mine, should enjoy such ease while I stood here struggling within myself, knowing what I knew ...

It burned, worse than the fireplace, and it stung worse than when I'd felt the air sucked from my lungs in that gas chamber. It felt like I was going to die, as I stood there, being ripped apart from within by my jealousy, by that green spectre.

Then, just as before, just as the feeling of death was closer than a kiss ... he made it stop.

You don't want Harry around Parker? No. You just want a son, that's all. That's all you ever wanted.

A son ... A chance to prove that I'm not my father ... that I'm better.

Memories flashed around me, crackling and popping in the flame, and then I realized it. I sank to my knees on the hearth.

I'm no better than he was, for doting on Peter, am I ... doting on someone who's trying to tear me to pieces.

If you're not careful, he'll take Harry to bits, too. What kind of father would you be if you let that happen? Take Harry back under your wings, Norman. It's been too long. Get your son back ... and we'll teach him how to live like a man.

Like an Osborn.

But first I had to have him back. I'd already taken my first step, of course ... I'd let him know that that girlfriend of his was nothing but bad news. At least that was something. But I needed to talk to him, soon, before Parker's grip got any tighter...

But when I talk to him, what will I say? I have to do something to get back in his graces ... I need to redeem myself ...

Well, talk to the boy first. We'll figure it out. And when we do, we'll make him see, just like we do, exactly what Parker is. And it'll be a nice happy family.

He - I - We started laughing then. I liked the idea. I liked it, very much. Yet somehow, his laughter suited better. Then, I heard his voice in the foyer.

"Dad?"

Yes ... yes, son. I'm right here...

And when he ever tells me that Parker's got designs on that girl... Oh, Harry. I told you she was no good. She's broken your heart? And now she's with Peter?!

Time to kill two birds with one stone, wouldn't you say, Norman?

I'm his father, and damned if I'm not going to be a better one from now on.

So, what else am I expected to do but to agree wholeheartedly? ... I've been going about it all wrong, Harry. I'll get you back.

I'll get rid of her, and of him...

And then nobody will be able to hurt either of us.

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