IN THE GREEN

By Wesley Overhults

Earth-815, Eighteen Years Ago

Harry Osborn remembers his mother’s funeral. He remembers feeling empty inside as he watches her lowered into the ground. He remembers the tears, the flowers, the kind words, and the pats of reassurance on his shoulder. Everyone tells him he is strong like his father and that both of them will get through this. It will be difficult but they’ll get through this.

Harry remembers his mother’s funeral for one important, and haunting, reason. He never sees his father cry before it, during it, or after it. At the tender age of eight, Harry doesn’t understand the complex and multi-faceted emotion of love, but he knows that you are supposed to cry when someone you love dies. Harry later wonders if that is another rule the Osborns, his father in particular, are exempt from. His father always tells him that they are better than everyone else, that they are stronger and tougher than the rest of the world. They are Osborns and, apparently, Osborns never cry.

Eight Years Ago

He can’t believe his father’s doing this to him. Harry, still a petulant child even at eighteen, inwardly fumes over the fact that his father won’t let him get his own apartment. Living in a dorm will not build his character. Living in a dorm will only force him to share space with some mouth-breather when he’d rather be living on his own. At least he was smart and moved in early. It gave him a week to experience what life could be like. Now though, with the doorknob turning and Harry knowing his roommate’s behind it, that dream world is coming to a close.

“Peter Parker, right?” inquires Harry, getting up from lying on his bed and standing to greet the person he’ll be spending his time with for at least a year.

“Harry Osborn,” responds Peter with a nod, a couple bags slung over his shoulder and a suitcase hanging from his hand at his side. “Your father owns Oscorp. I’ve read about it in some science journals. I’m really impressed with the work your dad does.”

“Always nice to have fans,” jokes Harry. “Put that stuff down and let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Peter nods and Harry can tell that the kid isn’t exactly the social butterfly. He can tell that he and Peter come from different worlds. He comes from the world of privilege, private academies, and wealth. Peter comes from the world of hard work, public schooling, and the middle class or lower. He doesn’t see how they’re going to get along when they come from such different backgrounds but Peter seems likeable enough. They walk out of the dorm building and head across the campus of Empire State University to the cafeteria. It’s a nice campus and it was one of the reasons Harry chose to go here instead of NYU or some other local university. When it comes to academic reputation, the other local universities can’t hold a candle to ESU.

“So how long have you been here?” asks Peter.

“Only a week,” replies Harry. “I did the whole ‘early registration’ thing just to get out of my house and away from my dad.”

“I’d like to meet your dad some time,” comments Peter. “I’m kind of a junior scientist.”

This comment doesn’t make any sense to Harry. The only thing he’s wanted to do for the past ten years is get away from his father. Ever since his mother died, Harry and his father haven’t been the same. His father’s thrown himself into Oscorp and has barely given Harry the time of day for ten years. Harry doesn’t understand what’s so great about business. He’s never been particularly interested in Oscorp or the work it does. He can’t envision himself taking over in his father’s stead when the time comes.

“I’ll put in a good word,” assures Harry. “I doubt it’ll mean much coming from me. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye on most things.”

They continue talking as they head into the cafeteria. Harry’s still not sure what to make of Peter. In his eyes, Peter seems like a pretty genuine guy but he can tell there’s something lurking underneath. You don’t live with a man like Norman Osborn for your whole life without learning to see a little through facades. Then again, it’s not as if Harry doesn’t have his own private pain. It’s not as if he’s completely ready to open up about the abuse and neglect he’s suffered from his father over the years since his mother passed away. He’s here at ESU to start over, to become something else and get out of his father’s shadow for a change.

“I don’t really do well with lunch tables,” admits Peter as both of them scan the cafeteria. “I was never really that popular in high school.”

Harry smirks and nods, scanning the tables to determine the most popular one. Years of private school hasn’t blinded him to the signals and signs that identify certain cliques. He spots his target with ease and moves towards the table but Peter grabs his arm to hold him back.

“What?” asks Harry.

“That’s Flash Thompson,” explains Peter. “I went to Midtown High with him and we didn’t get along very well. The fact is that he’s a huge jerk.”

“This isn’t high school anymore, Pete,” says Harry. “It’s time to start over and be something different.”

Peter apprehensively nods and the two of them move over to where Flash Thompson, jock king of Midtown High School, is holding court with a couple other guys and a group of girls. Harry pays particular attention to the girls, specifically the redhead though the blond is nice too.

“That you back there, Parker?” asks Thompson, noticing that there are two upstarts intruding on his home ground.

“Pete’s with me,” declares Harry, taking a seat along with Peter. “I’m Harry Osborn. You might’ve heard of my father.”

Harry’s only one semester into his freshman year at ESU and he thinks things are going well. He thinks that Peter Parker might just be the closest thing to a best friend he’s ever had. Though Harry’s not a slouch in science class, Peter is miles ahead of him in that regard. In fact, without Peter’s help Harry would probably have failed his science courses for the semester. In return, Harry helped Peter with his literature coursework. Harry always has a flair for words, for the poetry and drama of life that Peter can’t quite seem to comprehend. It’s a friendship based on give and take, both of them filling in the holes the other can’t. There’s still an uneasiness between them though. There are things Harry won’t talk about with Peter and he knows that sometimes Peter’s out at all hours of the night taking photos for the Daily Bugle. They give each other space, something both of them value.

There is a big problem though. Christmas is coming up soon and Harry dreads returning to the palatial Osborn mansion to spend the entire holiday vacation with his father. As usual, Peter has a plan and Harry can’t really complain about said plan when Peter’s aunt is the nicest lady he’s ever met.

“It’s so nice of Peter to invite you to spend part of your vacation with us,” says May Parker. “He’s told me all about you, of course. You and Gwen and the others are all he talks about when he calls me.”

“Pete’s a good kid,” says Harry, his eyes lingering on the mantle above the fireplace and the photos that sit there.

Peter left earlier in the evening with the excuse that news doesn’t stop just because it’s close to Christmas and J. Jonah Jameson doesn’t sleep until he’s sure he’s overshadowed the competition. As the Bugle’s star photographer when it comes to Spider-Man, Peter has an obligation that Harry can’t really fathom. He’s never had to work for anything in his life. He’s never known the financial desperation that he can tell the Parkers are in. Yet they soldier through it with a perseverance he wishes he possessed.

“He doesn’t talk about his parents or Ben, does he?” asks May and Harry knows she’s seen him staring at the photo of Peter and his uncle.

“Not really,” admits Harry. “He told me he didn’t really know his parents and his uncle died when someone broke into your house. I’m sorry for your loss. It must’ve been a terrible experience.”

“It was a sad day for both of us,” says May. “I like to think that Ben and I, well, that we were Peter’s parents. Losing a father can be hard on a young man like him.”

“I lost my mother when I was little,” confesses Harry, his eyes turning away from the picture and resting on May. “My father and I, we don’t talk much anymore.”

“As long as you’re Peter’s friend then that makes you family,” promises May. “Something tells me you and he could both use more family.”

Harry’s about to say something, either to thank her or to exorcise more demons in his soul, but he holds his tongue. His father’s been more erratic lately, so nervous and jumpy that Harry thinks maybe his old man has finally snapped completely. It’s the real reason why Harry doesn’t want to go home. He’s learned to put up with his father’s coldness and callous demeanor but if Harry lost him then he’s not completely sure what he would do. The bond between them is tenuous at best but it’s not a bond Harry wants broken any time soon.

“Sorry,” apologizes Peter almost as soon as the door opens and he steps inside the house. “Had to drop off the pics at the Bugle and then catch a cab home. You wouldn’t believe the night it’s been.”

“You’re here, that’s what matters,” says May. “Though it’s not quite Christmas yet, I think we should go ahead and open our presents.”

“Don’t rush it on my account,” says Harry. “I didn’t even get you anything, May.”

“There’s always next year,” she reminds him. “I just hope you did manage to get my nephew something.”

“I did,” he tells her before pulling an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to Peter. Harry smiles as he watches Peter open the envelope and stare at the paper inside.

“What is it?” he inquires and Harry almost laughs.

“Pete, that dorm room of ours is way too small for us,” he explains. “I’ve been looking around and I think I found us a nice apartment we can move into at the beginning of next year. I already took the liberty of putting down a security deposit and everything.”

“You did all this with your money though,” says Peter. “How much will my half be?”

“Not a dime,” answers Harry. “Pete, two single guys like us deserve a nice bachelor pad and with me, money is never an object. The whole place is already paid for and don’t even try to pay me back. It’s Christmas, pal. Just take the gift, okay?”

Peter nods, too stunned to actually say anything. Harry just smiles and realizes that his father’s money, and his money by extension, isn’t something they use just to improve their own lives. The Osborn family fortune can do many good things for the world. All it needs is the chance and someone with the will to get the job done.

Seven Years Ago

Harry remembers the first and only time he drops acid. He and MJ are on-and-off dating at this point. Peter is the one with the steady girlfriend in Gwen but Harry’s luck with love, much like his home life, is fickle at best and miserable at worst. That night, he and MJ blow off their homework, as usual, and go to a rave in the city. He can tell this isn’t her first and he tries hard to not let his inexperience at this particular situation show. So, when he sees a group of people passing around some tabs of something and having a good time, he thinks he’ll show MJ that he can hang with her. He tried cocaine once while he was in prep school but this is completely different.

Colors never looked so vibrant before and they were never so plentiful. Harry thinks this new world he’s discovered is quite nice. It’s extremely preferable to the one he lives in. There’s no school, no stress, and most importantly, his father isn’t around to ruin everything. Harry really hates his father. Yet at the same time, he still loves his father and this weird relationship confuses him. He can tell that his father likes Peter and probably wishes that he was his son instead of Harry. That brings up a host of other conflicting emotions. The colors don’t look so beautiful now and Harry swears he can hear someone’s voice.

“Harry!”

It sounds like MJ but Harry’s too interested in the colors to listen. The blues lighten and the yellows darken until both colors blend into a sickly shade of green. It looks like someone vomited all over his field of vision and Harry hates it. MJ’s still yelling at him but now her voice deepens, becomes more authoritative. She sounds like his father. His father is always angry with him, always disappointed in him, always too busy with his precious company to pay attention to his only son.

“Harry!”

That voice is different. It’s higher in pitch and has a maniacal edge to it. Looking back on it, Harry always knew that voice. He always knew somewhere deep down that his father wasn’t a human being anymore. He always knew about the demon haunting his family but he chose to blissfully ignore it. He chose to think that simply getting away from his father meant that he couldn’t become like him. As Harry starts to go into shock with Mary Jane yelling for an ambulance, he realizes that tonight he’s beginning to understand the truth. There are some demons you can’t run away from and they will haunt you until the day you die. He thinks tonight might just be that night. Tonight might be the night he finally outruns it.

Harry doesn’t go to his father’s funeral. He wants nothing to do with his father and going to Gwen’s funeral would be too . . . discomforting. He chooses, instead, to spend some time in rehab to get over his experience that night at the rave. That LSD was spiked with something that night and it gave him a bad trip. He can barely remember what he saw or heard that night but he remembers seeing green and hearing a cackling sound he would later recognize as the voice of the Green Goblin.

He decides to spend the rest of his summer vacation in Europe after being released from the private clinic his father checked him into just before he died. He sees London, Paris, Rome, all the wonders that the continent has to offer. He meets many women during that summer, beautiful and exotic women who allow him into their beds. Yet every night, as he sleeps in the arms of these beautiful women, he sees the face of his father, the face of Gwen, and the faces of the two demons that took both of them away from him. He watches Spider-Man and the Green Goblin duel in his nightmares, callously destroying the man his father was and Gwen in their wake.

It’s these dreams and the overall boredom with Europe that bring him home to New York to finish his studies at ESU. He always made sure to cover Peter’s bills on the apartment. He’s missed the old college gang though, strangely enough, he hasn’t missed Peter all that much. He knows that Peter makes his meager living taking pictures of Spider-Man and Harry never had a problem with that until now. Now, he wants nothing to do with people in costumes, be they hero, villain, or anything in between. Spider-Man and the Green Goblin top his list of people he despises and anyone associated with either of them is suspect. Still, Peter is a good friend.

“We were worried about you,” says Mary Jane, hugging him even as he makes his way through the terminal and into LaGuardia.

Harry hugs her back and notices that Peter is strangely quiet. He chalks it up to the fact that he’s still in mourning over Gwen. Gwen was a kind, decent girl and Harry knows that Peter will miss her deeply. He wishes he had that kind of love in his life but he has serious doubts that he ever will.

“You’ve been gone awhile,” admits Peter and Harry smirks. “Can’t imagine how this place could be more exciting than Europe.”

“Europe was a drag,” announces Harry as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “All that art and culture was boring. Give me the chance to sample a good New York hot dog any day. How’s the apartment holding up, Pete?”

“Still standing.”

Harry notices that Peter isn’t himself or perhaps this is just the new self he’s invented since losing Gwen. Harry can’t really imagine what that would be like. He still loves MJ but there’s always distance between him and everyone else in his life.

“MJ, do you think we could maybe talk?” inquires Harry. “Over dinner?”

“Oh, you hadn’t heard,” says Mary Jane, her face reddening slightly. Harry notices Peter’s arm slip around her waist and he doesn’t need a college degree to tell what’s happened while he was away.

“We’re kind of . . .,” begins Peter.

“It’s cool,” says Harry nonchalantly. “You two crazy kids be happy. I’ll catch a cab and see you back at the apartment, Pete.”

Harry can’t say he’s surprised it happened. Still, the paranoia begins to set in and he wonders how long they’ve been together. He wonders if they were together while he was with MJ and Peter was with Gwen. He wonders if that night at the rave was planned. Did Peter have a hand in his father’s death? Harry thinks about all these things while he flags down a cab. It’s good to be home though. He thinks it will feel good to get back in the routine of things. For once, things will finally be normal.

Five-And-A-Half Years Ago

Harry sits in the dark and thinks about what he’s discovered, or perhaps more accurately, what he’s realized he knew all along. Much like the other important person in his life, Harry’s best friend has a secret identity too. Peter Parker: the average, honest, hard-working guy? Harry laughs at it because he’s tired of the whole world laughing at him, playing its sick jokes on him and his family. Peter is a destroyer, a typhoon that ripped his life apart. Peter is poison, a lethal toxin that consumes everything he touches. Not this time though. No more secrets. No more lies. Tonight, the truth will set Harry free one way or the other.

“Been waiting on you all night, Pete.”

The lights in Peter’s bedroom flip on and Harry can tell that Peter is surprised. Harry sits in Peter’s desk chair, his hands idly playing with one of Peter’s Spider-Man masks. He discovered the costume earlier that day. He knew Peter had a secret and he was trying to uncover it. Harry thinks he’s succeeded beyond his wildest dreams in this quest because now he knows. He knows that the face of his best friend and the face of his hated enemy are really the same face.

“What’s that?” asks Peter, gesturing to the mask in Harry’s hands. “Halloween’s not for a couple months, Harry. Don’t tell me you’re getting started early with your costume.”

“Don’t!” warns Harry and his tone tells Peter everything that he needs to know. He can see the subtle surprise in Peter’s expression. Peter always thought he was smarter than Harry, smarter than everyone. Well this time, he’s not so smart. This time, Harry’s the one who’s got it all figured out. “Don’t play your little games with me, Peter. Not tonight.”

“Harry, it’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what I think!” He struggles to control his rage. He needs to keep himself in control long enough to implement what he has planned. One way or another, he’s going to get the truth.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” states Peter.

“Too much of a secret for your best friend, huh?”

Harry calmly stands up and tosses the mask at Peter, hitting him in the face with it. It only distracts Peter for half of a second but it’s enough for Harry to pull the revolver out of his waistband.

“Harry, what’re you doing?”

“Stop me,” orders Harry, cocking the gun and aiming it squarely at Peter’s forehead. “No ordinary person is fast enough to dodge a speeding bullet. Stop me and prove to me who you really are.”

“Harry, we need to sit down and talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about.”

Harry’s finger twitches to pull the trigger but Peter moves faster than any human being ever could. In the span of a single second, Harry is against the wall with Peter’s arm pressed to his throat. Peter’s other hand is on Harry’s arm, stopping him from lifting the gun with an iron grip that no normal person could use.

“It’s true,” admits Peter. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“How could you keep something like this from me?”

He never wanted to believe it was true. He tried to rationalize how Peter could be Spider-Man. Now that he knows the truth, he feels all the anger drain away into a hollow numbness. He feels the grief he couldn’t allow himself to feel while he was in Europe. He’s alone now and nothing can help that.

“I’ve had to keep it from everyone.” Peter gets the gun away from Harry and tosses it away, letting his friend free once the firearm is safely out of reach.

“Did you kill my father?” Harry asks the question because he needs the truth. “Did you kill Gwen?”

“I loved Gwen more than I loved breathing,” retorts Peter and Harry can see it’s the God’s honest truth. “I tried to save her, Harry. I tried to save her from that maniac you called a father but I couldn’t. Your father killed Gwen, Harry, not me.”

Both of them let the grief sink into Peter’s words. They look at each other and Harry thinks back to all the times that Peter has had to run off to do a myriad of things. All this time, Peter was saving the day. Harry hears the voice in his head tell him that Peter is an enemy but, for maybe the first time ever, he doesn’t listen to it. It’s the voice that’s the enemy. The ghost of the Green Goblin’s been haunting Harry for so long that he forgot he’s the one in control of his life.

“I think I always knew,” mumbles Harry.

He watches Peter almost wilt before his eyes, crumpling to sit on the floor. He can’t imagine the burdens Peter has born since he put on this mask. He can’t imagine the strength it takes to do such a thing because he knows he’ll never have that same strength. He’ll never be able to live up to the superhuman standard Peter sets.

“I’ve done this ever since high school,” confesses Peter. “There was a science demonstration and this spider dropped down into the path of the radiation. It bit me.”

They talk in hushed voices now because this secret is the biggest one any two friends have kept between one another. Peter tells Harry everything because somehow he knows that he will lose his best friend if he doesn’t and he’s lost so many people already. From his parents to Uncle Ben to Gwen, Peter’s life, much like Harry’s, is defined by pain and loss. It’s one of the reasons why they’re as close as they are.

“Wait here,” says Harry after a bit.

He goes into the kitchen of their apartment and pulls out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He comes back into Peter’s bedroom and pours himself a glass of the Kentucky-brewed liquid his father loved so well. He remembers sneaking into his father’s study some nights and seeing his old man passed out at his desk after a long day of work and an even longer night of hitting the bottle.

“I’ve never touched this stuff,” says Peter.

“No better night to start,” replies Harry.

They drink well into the night and they talk in a way they haven’t since Harry returned from Europe. They toast to Gwen’s memory, to the friendship between them, and to the responsibility that comes with power. When the bottle is empty, they still talk.

“You’re the only one close to me that knows,” Peter tells Harry. “Please don’t tell anyone. Not MJ, not Aunt May, not anyone.”

Harry nods solemnly and finds his fingers playing with the Spider-Man mask once more. He looks into its opaque eyes and remembers all the times he thought these were the eyes of his enemy. It’s funny how perceptions distort truths, how people try to cover up ugly truths in pretty lies and refuse to see truths due to terrible misconceptions. In his drunken stupor, Harry has a divine revelation, perhaps the first one he’s ever had in his life.

“What if you weren’t the only superhero in this friendship?” he inquires.

Four Years Ago

“I want to show you something.”

Harry’s very proud of the progress he’s made. He’s only a few classes away from graduating ESU with his Literature major and he’s also managing most of the business at Oscorp. He never thought he could hold it together this well but he’s managing everything perfectly. People tell him that he’s his father’s son but Harry knows differently. He enjoys thinking that he’s the man Norman could’ve been if things had turned out differently. The company’s made some very nice breakthroughs as of late with some new technologies, one of which interests Harry the most because it might help his own special project.

“It’s a watch, Harry,” says Peter, looking incredulously at the device on Harry’s wrist.

Both of them are standing in one of the testing labs at Oscorp. It’s after hours and the rest of the employees have all gone home. Harry knows that Peter’s always been uneasy about the prospect of him becoming a superhero but Harry thinks he’s ready. He’s been working on his equipment in secret, perfecting all his father’s old Goblin devices for his own ends.

“You think so?” asks Harry, clicking a button on the device.

Peter watches as millions of tiny machines crawl across Harry’s clothes, covering him in a nanotech costume that’s a slight variation on that of his father’s old Green Goblin costume. Though it sports a hooded cloak instead of a cap and the colors are a little darker, the costume is mostly the same. Harry can tell it’s making Peter queasy just to look at that costume.

“Why would you do this, Harry?” he asks.

“Just hear me out,” suggests Harry, walking over to a workbench and clipping a belt around his waist. It’s another variation on his father’s equipment because Harry would rather die than carry around what’s basically a purse.

Harry pulls some small orange balls from a pocket on the belt, tossing one of them at the far wall and watching it explode. He flicks a handful of razor-edged, bat-shaped throwing blades at the wall on his left side and watches them sink into the metal slab. His fingers hum to life and crackle with the energy of his sparkle beams, though Harry still wants another name for them. He lets off a few blasts before kicking on the anti-gravity technology in his boots and floating into the air.

“You know what that costume did to your father,” says Peter.

“Think of what I can make it do,” counters Harry. “Pete, you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. Trust me when I say that I’ve got this covered. This nanotech is perfect for the costume and I’ve already tested out all the weapons. I’d like a real test run of the whole package though.”

“You want to go out on patrol with me,” realizes Peter, shaking his head with a sigh of resignation. “You know all the bad things I’ve had to deal with while wearing my suit. I won’t let my best friend go through all of this.”

“I can do this.”

Harry’s ready for this. He’s been ready for this ever since he realized that he can be something more than his father. He hears what everyone says about the Osborn family name and it stings. In some way, he wants to make sure everyone realizes that the Osborns, and Goblins, don’t always have to be about murder and madness.

“You’re not doing this,” decides Peter. “I’m not losing any more of the people I care about to this and this conversation never happened.”

“Cameras were never on anyway,” says Harry, a crestfallen look on his face. “Gimme a little credit, Pete.” He returns to standing on the floor and lets his new costume recede back into its home. He takes off the watch-like device and puts it in a case to lock away in a safe. Harry moves to catch up with Peter once his work is done.

“I asked MJ to marry me,” says Peter in a hushed tone as they exit the Oscorp building.

“And?” He knows Peter and MJ have had a pretty rough patch. He wishes that Peter would just come clean with his secret because Harry knows if he does then MJ will marry him for sure. Harry has his own matters of the heart to worry about though.

“Shot down,” finishes Peter, dejection obvious in his tone.

“She’ll come around. I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

“There’s this girl in one of my classes named Liz Allan. She looks our age except I never noticed her before. She went to Midtown High.” Harry watches Peter’s face contort in confusion as he tries to place the name. Then it suddenly clicks and he sees Peter’s face sour.

“She and Flash used to date each other,” he explains. “You sure about her, Harry? She was a real you-know-what in high school.”

“You can say ‘bitch’, Peter,” laughs Harry before they duck into a secluded alley.

“You wanna ask her out,” says Peter, pulling off his street clothes to reveal his costume underneath.

“We already went on our first date,” confirms Harry. “She’s not like that anymore, Pete. You may not realize it but people do change on occasion.”

“Sometimes,” admits Peter before pulling his mask over his head and vaulting up into the rooftops of New York. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”

“Yeah, sure,” agrees Harry sadly.

He watches Peter swing off to be a hero and feels the jealousy rise up in him again. He could be a hero too. He could be out there saving people’s lives, righting wrongs, restoring honor to his family name. He doesn’t have the power but he has the technology and the costume to simulate it. Isn’t that enough?

Two Years Ago

He’s heard Peter’s warnings and sermons enough. This isn’t business anymore. This isn’t about restoring the family honor or being the chivalrous knight in shining armor. This is personal now because he has Liz. The Hobgoblin has Liz and all because Harry wouldn’t turn over his father’s stupid Goblin formula. Over the past few years, Harry’s tried to work with his father’s formula and create a safe version of it. He’s got a sample of it synthesized but it’s never been tested. Hobgoblin doesn’t want that. Hobgoblin wants the real deal, the original and untarnished version that spawned the complete mental collapse of Norman Osborn. Harry can’t understand why anyone would want to bring that upon themselves but he doesn’t give a damn at this point. Hobgoblin has Liz and he’s not going to stand by and let Peter swing in to save the day. This time he’s going to be the one to save the damsel in distress because this time it’s his damsel.

The suit feels good. He wonders if this is how Peter feels because he’s never felt this feeling before. It’s one thing to wear it during training exercises but it’s another thing to wear it in an actual combat situation. It feels incredible though. He can fly now. It’s as if a whole new world has opened itself up to him but he can’t take it all in right now. At this point, his thoughts are moving twice as fast as he is. The anti-gravity device and booster jets in the boots are working well. The drop location Hobgoblin gave the authorities is coming up fast. He can see the bright orange cape swirling in the breeze and he can hear the hum of the jet glider. The Hobgoblin is out of date, a common thug with antique technology living in the shadow of a man who’s been dead for years. Harry is the new model, the better model.

“Who the hell are you?” asks Hobgoblin, turning to notice Harry’s approach for the first time.

Harry can barely think at this point because there’s too much rage in him. He never got the chance to confront his father, never got the chance to tell his father how much he hated him and how screwed up he is because of him. This is Harry’s moment. This is his chance to confront the demon haunting his family and kill it.

“Trick or treat, scumbag,” retorts Harry. “You think you’re a Goblin? Let’s see if that knock-off tech and cheap costume can stand up to a real Goblin.”

“You kept that formula for yourself then, Osborn,” growls Hobgoblin and Harry can tell he’s angry even though his mask shows no change in emotion. Harry resolves to wipe that sadistic grin off Hobgoblin’s face before this whole ordeal is through.

“Harry?” asks Liz, her stare a mix of hope and regret.

He looks into those eyes and knows that she’s scared. He resolves to show her and to show everyone that they no longer have to fear the name of Osborn or the name of Goblin. Those fears are things of the past and Harry is intent on looking towards the future. He knows that today is the day he finally does something good with his life. Today is the day he finally puts the demon to rest. Today is the day he finally steps out of his father’s shadow forever and becomes something else. Today is the day he finally becomes what he was meant to be.

His vision is swimming and there’s a ringing in his ear that makes it hard to concentrate on what’s going on. Hobgoblin caught him with a lucky shot, ramming his glider into his chest. Harry thinks it’s ironic that he might die the exact same way his father did. He can hear Liz screaming because now she knows. She knows his secret and she knows Peter’s secret.

“There’s a way to save him,” explains Peter, trying to calm down Liz because she’s hysterical at this point.

Harry thinks Peter is starting to lose it too because Peter’s lost too many people already thanks to his heroic identity. Now he’s about to lose his best friend because Harry really can’t hang on. He’s trying as hard as he can because he knows that’s what Liz wants from him but it’s not working. Harry thought this would be the day he finally killed the demon but it turns out that maybe this was the day that the demon finally killed him.

“Pete,” rasps Harry. “The formula’s not ready.”

“Neither were you,” retorts Peter. He lays Harry on the table and then goes to the special vault where they keep the Goblin formula sample and Harry’s costume.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” pleads Liz.

“Harry and I have been working on a safe version,” explains Peter. “It’s this or nothing, Liz.”

The formula tastes like crap. It burns all the day down Harry’s throat. He’s scared now because he doesn’t want to become his father. He doesn’t want to see that frightened look in Liz’s eyes when she looks at him because he’s a monster instead of a person. What if this doesn’t work? What if he really is his father’s son? What if these are the last sane thoughts he ever has? Questions race through Harry’s mind even as the Goblin formula races through his body. His muscles begin to stitch back together. The bleeding stops as the gaping hole in his chest closes itself thanks to the healing properties of the formula.

“Please,” whispers Liz, pressing her forehead against his. “Please come back to me, Harry. I love you too much to lose you.”

Harry wants to respond. He wants to tell Liz how much she means to him. She is his lifeline, the thing that keeps him from going over the edge. She is everything to him and he needs her. He needs her more than he’s ever needed anything in his entire life. He has to let her know this, has to voice the feelings that rage inside him.

“Love you,” whispers back Harry before passing out. When he wakes up hours later, Harry smiles because Liz is right there with him, never leaving his side not even for a second.

One Year Ago

“I don’t see why I can’t move in with you.”

Harry gives Liz an exasperated look because they’ve been over this a million times. Ever since Peter got married, he moved out of their apartment and got one of his own with MJ. That left Harry with a very large place and ever since last year, Liz had been pestering him to let her fill the empty space.

“I just like my space, Liz,” says Harry. “You know that.”

“You have enough of it,” grumbles Liz, gesturing to Harry’s rather spacious apartment.

Harry never thought about how big it was until he was the only one living in it. He understands why Peter moved out but he’s still not willing to let Liz fill that particular void. He’s learned a lot of things about the hero business. You don’t let the people you love get involved. It’s a business not meant for those who are defenseless, and Liz is one of those people. He won’t put her in harm’s way like that, not after that ordeal with the Hobgoblin.

“Movie night’s not gonna happen, huh?” he inquires.

“I’m serious about this, Harry.”

“I know.”

He can see the lines of frustration on her furrowed brow and he knows she’s giving him that look. Harry thinks it’s cute when Liz gets angry at him because she’s still adorable. He loves her, loves her in a way he hasn’t loved anyone before. He’s thankful that he has her to share his secret with. She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for being.

“So what’s the big deal then?” she asks. “You’re close with Peter and Mary Jane. What, you don’t want your girlfriend in the clubhouse?”

“It’s not that,” he mutters, annoyed that their date isn’t going at all the way he wanted. “There’s no clubhouse, Liz. The three of us just go way back.”

“Don’t you even dare try to brush me off. I know you and MJ had a thing once.”

He’s actually hurt that she would think he wants anyone but her. She’s right though. The only reason she knows his secret is because she was there when Peter saved his life. Liz saw beneath Harry’s physical mask but she’s never seen anything beyond his emotional mask. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe if he lets Liz in, it will help them like it helped Peter and MJ. Ever since he started regularly taking the Goblin formula derivative, Harry’s been nervous about falling off the wagon. Liz is that tether he needs to tie him to the light when he starts slipping into the dark. Maybe it’s time to really let her know that.

“Liz,” whispers Harry tenderly, cupping her chin with his hand so she has to look him in the eye. “You know that you’re the one I’m in love with. You’re the only one I want to be with so don’t even think that MJ’s anything more than just a friend now.”

“Then let me in.”

He looks into her eyes and can tell that this is probably the breaking point. If he denies her this time, she’ll probably walk out of his life forever and he can’t lose someone else he loves. He can’t believe she hasn’t left him yet. He can’t believe that he can actually let someone in and they won’t go away. Harry doesn’t know what to say. He can’t even form words right now so he lets his mouth do something else to voice his feelings. He kisses Liz, kisses her with a passion that he’s never kissed anyone before.

“I keep you away to keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I never want to see you hurt.”

“I can take it,” promises Liz. “I don’t want to see you hurt either but I won’t be some yo-yo for you to yank around. I know your secret and I’m here to help you, Harry. You know that.”

“You do help,” he admits. “You help me so much more than I can say.”

“Then don’t say,” she decides before kissing him again. “If I wanted to talk all night, I’d call up MJ.”

“I’d planned on a little more interesting night,” confesses Harry before literally sweeping Liz off her feet and into his arms.

They continue kissing as he takes her to bed, the enhanced strength from the Goblin formula still working. He was going to go out on patrol after their date but this is more important. He’ll let Peter and the other heroes of New York pick up his slack for one night.

He and Liz spend the night in each other’s company. They make out sometimes, mostly have sex, but the thing they do more than anything is talk. He tells her everything he could never tell another living soul. He tells her about his mother’s death, about life with his father, about losing Gwen. She never stops listening and she tells him about her life too. She tells him about her brother the hard-luck case, about taking some time between high school and college to find herself, about majoring in business because she wants to build a better life for herself.

“I had a crush on him in high school.”

He barely registers her words as his fingers lazily weave through her hair. The sun is creeping over the horizon and he’s almost asleep but her confession jolts him back to awareness.

“Pete?” He knows he shouldn’t be jealous because she’s obviously insecure about his previous relationship with MJ. So why should he be jealous about a past relationship that never happened?

“He was shy and nerdy but he was sweet and nice,” she explains. “I could tell there was some kind of strength under those glasses and that skinny body.”

“And now?” He asks the question because one of them has to ask it.

“You are the only man I want to be with,” states Liz, her eyes meeting his. “No one in my life comes close to you, Harry, and I don’t think anyone ever will.”

They gaze longingly into one another’s eyes until both of their eyes close and they fall asleep in each other’s arms. There are no nightmares in Harry’s dreams. He only dreams of Liz Allan and the life they will build together, a life free of demons, goblins, and monsters.

Some Other Earth, Now

He stares at the picture of Liz Allan that he keeps in a special pocket in his belt. Harry keeps it there to remind him of what he’s doing. Wearing this costume, drinking that formula, all of it takes its toll on him. So he keeps a picture of Liz with him to remind him that he’s not his father and that he won’t be haunted by the ghost of the Green Goblin. He thinks he needs it now more than ever, now that he and his new teammates are stranded somewhere in the space-time continuum.

“Who is she?”

Goblin looks up from the picture and sees Wasp staring at him, her eyes a mix of concern and curiosity. He thinks about how hard it was to live with someone who didn’t understand life as a superhero. Now he’s surrounded himself with people who probably don’t understand life as a normal person. There’s a certain irony in that. He’s learned that the universe is full of irony. The universe is also full of spite, tons of it in fact.

“My girlfriend,” replies Goblin. “Her name is Liz. I miss her.”

Kate nods quietly because she knows what it’s like. She misses Billy a little bit but the problems they had before she disappeared had eroded her love for him. She can tell that’s not the case with Harry. She can tell that he still loves Liz and it breaks her heart a little bit. She’s never been the type to be girly but the tragic romance of the situation is enough to warrant such sympathy.

“You’ll get back home to her,” says Kate but she can tell Harry’s unsure about that. “I mean that, Harry. We’re all going to get home.”

“Maybe,” admits Harry, staring at Liz’s picture a few moments longer before his mask covers his face and he becomes something else.

He puts the picture back in its place because Harry Osborn isn’t who he is anymore, not while he’s wearing this mask and not while he’s a member of the Exiles. He’s something darker when he’s wearing the costume, almost as if the costume is a version of him that’s twisted inside out.

“We will,” promises Wasp, placing her hand on his shoulder as he moves past her.

He turns and looks at her with the red eyes and maniacal grin of his mask. It unnerves her a little to see his face like that. It unnerves her more to see the coldness behind that mask because she’s not sure which version of Harry she deals with on a daily basis is the real, authentic version. Is he a man wearing a monster’s face or is he a monster fooling himself into thinking that he’s a man?

“Yeah,” he finally agrees and he watches Kate smile.

He notes that she has a nice smile. In another lifetime, of which there are plenty, Harry thinks maybe he could’ve met her and fallen in love with her. He has Liz though and nothing will keep him from her. No matter how green the grass is on the other side, he knows the greenest of pastures is waiting for him at home.