Disclaimer: Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin, Spider-Man, et al. are property of Marvel Entertainment.  I don't own them....if I did, I'd be filthy rich.

So without further ado....
 

The Man Behind The Mask

by Jen Richardson (padme_76@yahoo.com)
 
 

Chapter 1

It was just an ordinary day.....just like the title of some song on the radio, these days.

Norman Osborn awoke with a tremendous headache....which wasn't unusual after the long day he had.

Being the CEO of OsCorp Industries had its perks: wealth, power, prestige.......the downside was that he never seemed to get any sleep.  And with four hours of it....he tended to wake from his slumber with a massive migraine.  In fact, he had been getting them more often lately. Maybe I'm getting a brain tumor, he thought with a strained grin as he pressed his fingers against his temples.  He moaned as the pain returned...rolling his eyes.  I'd never be so lucky.....

Norman turned over and mindlessly stared at the alarm.  6:45 am, it read.  He groaned in despair.  The alarm would be going off in roughly fifteen more minutes....and he had to be at the office by eight.

No....can't be.  I just fell asleep... He shut his eyes in exhaustion and ran his hands through his ruffled hair.

He had spent yesterday afternoon supervising the completion of the company's pet project, and stayed well after business hours going over the paper work he had ignored for the past two weeks. Add a minor meeting with OsCorp's main stockholders, and a few interviews with potential investors.....

All in all....it was a busy day.....and Norman was dead tired.  Staring at a computer screen for five hours will do that to a person....not to mention talking with clients all day long.  His throat was worn and dry...and he felt certain that he'd have laryngitis by the end of the week.

This day is going to get better, I just know it... he imagined.  As a businessman, he couldn't afford to be idealistic.  Cynicism was his best friend, so to speak.

Too bad he couldn't stay in bed......

--------

Norman was in his den, straightening his tie when he called his maid. She came running in from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. His brows furrowed in irritation and for a moment, she thought Mr. Osborn was upset with her.

"Theresa, get Harry down here.  He DOES remember that field trip he's going on, right?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

"Oh, yes sir.  I suppose he woke a bit later than expected...." she noticed some lint on his shoulder and began brushing it off.  Norman waved her away politely and sighed.

"If he doesn't hurry, he'll be late....again," he emphasized the word 'again'.  He loved his son...really, but Harry could be trying at times.

"I'll check on him," she said. Norman stared after her as she ran up the long staircase. While he waited, he turned to glance at some of the masks that he'd collected over the years.  He had acquired most of them through business trips, since Norman Osborn was not known to take a leisurely vacation.

They were all grotesque, angled, terrible-looking masks - the kind you'd expect to see in your nightmares.  They were the kind of masks you'd see tribal witch doctors wear.  Most people wouldn't dare set foot in his sanctuary, for fear that the masks would come to life.

Strangely enough, he found them.....intriguing.  Staring at them seemed to calm his irritable disposition.  His son expressed his opinion of his father's mask collection quite vocally over the years, and Norman couldn't help but grin at the memory.

"Dad, why do you have to have such a....WEIRD hobby?  Haven't you ever heard of fishing?" were Harry's words, Norman recalled.....

Fishing.  Now there was a thought.  Norman couldn't quite picture himself sitting in a boat, waiting around for hours with a fishing rod in his hand.  Harry had pestered him over the years to take him on a camping trip, but Norman's hours at work tended to put that plan on the back burner.

Speaking of which.....where WAS that son of his?  Did he drown in the shower? "Harry!" he shouted in frustration, despite the condition of his voice.

His son yelled back in the same frustrated tone. "I'll be right down!"

He said that half an hour ago... Norman muttered.  He's probably sick of hearing me by now.... He sighed and started gathering up some reports, stuffing them in a manila folder before placing it in his briefcase.  He made his way to the foyer and set his briefcase by the door, looking at his watch.  ...as if staring at it would speed up time, he thought sarcastically.

The maid came back down with a look on her face that said, it's not my fault...  "He said he'd be right down," Theresa explained in a small voice.

"Well....what is he doing?"

"He said he was just finishing some homework--"

Norman was about to explode. "What?  Now?!  Why didn't he just....." he shook his head. "Ugh...why do I bother?"

Theresa shrugged.  Norman didn't even look at her as she excused herself and went back to the kitchen, not wanting to witness the actual father-son moment.  By now, Norman was pacing back and forth in the foyer, looking irritable again.

Last time Harry was late, he had gotten a call from the school office asking for a parent-teacher conference.  Norman had no time for such meetings, and he tried to drill it into his son's head that attendance was important.  But apparently, Harry didn't take his father's stern advice to heart.  It seemed that Harry's grades were improving as of late, but he was always late for class.....Fortunately, Harry's best friend happened to be great at science and math, and cared about his schooling.....something Norman tried to instill in his son at an early age.  He hoped his son could take over OsCorp one day......that day seemed VERY far off, now.

Norman walked over to the bottom of the ornate staircase and called out in exasperation, "Harry! We'll be late!..." Ugh...I wonder if there's any throat drops around? he thought idly. Heh...the great Norman Osborn...loses his voice. Oh, the board members would just LOVE that .....

Norman was brought out of his thoughts as he heard his son's footsteps.  He looked up and saw Harry wearing a sheepish grin on his face.  He descended the stairs, with a bookbag in tow.  "Sorry..." he said in a hurried breath.

Norman just shook his head and gave a wry grin.  "Funny....you're never late for dinner....."

"Dad--" he cut in, looking like the exasperated teenager not wanting to be lectured.

"I'm sorry, " he grinned slightly, then his expression grew more serious.  "But you have to start being more responsible....or you'll never succeed in life... How will you ever--"

"Dad, you've told me this lesson a million times...  I know, okay?" Harry blurted, and Norman didn't like the tone in his son's voice. He was never one to talk back to his father.

"You know?  Then why do I have to repeat myself?" the elder Osborn reprimanded.

Harry just exhaled slowly and gave up.  He wasn't going to win this argument.  "Agh...I'll see you later, dad...." he picked up his bookbag and started for the door....

"Wait....you aren't taking the bus."  It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry turned to stare at his father questioningly.  "What? Why not?"

Norman frowned as he looked at his watch...again.  "No son of mine is riding a creaky, old school bus and besides, what if someone saw you? I'd never hear the end of it.  I'll drop you off at Columbia.  It's only ten minutes off my route to the office--"

"Dad...augh.....you know how I feel about that," Harry groaned in protest.

"Yes, but ....do you have a choice?" Norman countered.

Harry sagged his shoulders in defeat.  Norman knew Harry desperately wanted to take the bus, like the other school kids.  Harry absolutely HATED it when his father offered to drive him to school......but Norman only wanted the best for Harry.  He was an Osborn, after all.

"Fine," the younger Osborn sighed in resignation. "Let's just...go."  He dragged his bookbag with him as he trudged out the door, with Norman following behind.

Nice going, Osborn.....now your son hates you....

--------

Columbia University was just two more blocks down, but Norman wasn't paying attention.  He was staring at his palm pilot, absorbed in coordinating his schedule of meetings for the day. He barely heard Harry speak when they eventually pulled up to the curb.

"Could you drive around the corner, please," Harry ordered the driver.  Norman briefly saw a twinge of apprehension on Harry's face as he stared out the window, looking at the students already gathering.

Norman glanced up from his schedule and frowned at Harry. "Why?  The entrance is right there," he pointed.

Harry groaned quietly as he watched the students outside begin to congregate toward the car.  "Dad, these are public school kids.  I'm not showing up to a field trip in a Rolls."

Norman gave a bitter laugh. "What, you want me to trade my car in for a Jetta just because you flunked out of every private school I ever sent you to?"

"It wasn't for me," Harry protested.

"Of course it was," Norman said a little too forcefully.  His expression softened as he regarded his son. "Don't ever be ashamed of who you are."

"I'm not ashamed," Harry cut in...and became hesitant.  "It's just...that I'm not what you...." he trailed off as he opened the door.

"Just not what, Harry?" Norman asked, trying to understand what it was his son was saying.

Harry sighed and crawled out of the car. "Forget it, dad."

As he shut the door, Norman felt as if his son had shut him out as well.  They never talked...not like other fathers and sons did.  But he couldn't help it.  He was a very busy and important man.  Unfortunately for Harry, though....Norman was never there for his son.

And he knew this truth all too well.  Emily said the same thing before she.....

Stop it. Emily wouldn't want you walking around in self-pity, he reprimanded himself.  But deep in his heart, he still mourned her....  Harry was the only family he had, now....and was failing miserably on that front.  Norman desperately wanted to be a good father....and he didn't want to make the same mistakes HIS father made.  He wished for a brief moment that Emily was still with him.  If anyone could knock some sense into Harry, Emily could.

He exhaled in frustration at his son...his only heir.  If Harry was going to carry on Norman's legacy....then he was in trouble. All he could do was shake his head and continue with organizing his day.

He was about to order the driver to pull away when he noticed Harry's bookbag lying on the floor of the car.  Norman quickly looked out through the smoke-tinted windows to see that Harry hadn't gone far.  He was talking to one of his fellow students.

He grabbed the bookbag and opened the door, quickly jumping out and hurriedly walking towards Harry.  "Harry!" he called out, holding out the bag. Norman saw the look of horror on his son's face and resisted the urge to smile.  Still embarrassed of his own father, he mused.  "Won't you be needing this?" he teased lightly.

He handed the bag to Harry and heard him mumble, "Thanks, dad."  Norman's attention turned to the young man standing next to his son.  Harry saw an introduction was in order and nodded. "Peter, this is my father, Norman Osborn."

He sized up this young man who apparently greeted his son so amiably. Norman offered his hand and smiled. "Peter Parker? Yes, I've heard so much about you."

"It's a great honor to meet you, sir," Peter smiled, shaking the elder Osborn's hand.

So this is Harry's friend....the math and science tutor, Norman grinned inwardly.   "Harry tells me you're quite the science whiz."

Peter blushed and idly adjusted his glasses. "Well...I wouldn't go that far, sir."

Norman laughed. "You're being too modest. Anyone who can get Harry to pass chemistry must be an expert," he added with a bit of reproach.

Peter shook his head slightly. "No...Harry's really smart. He didn't really need my help at all."

Norman gave Harry as look as if to say, See? You can do it. You just need to apply yourself.....

Instead, Harry winced at the expression on his father's face. Here we go again.... "Dad, we have to go," his son announced.

Norman felt Harry tug on his sleeve impatiently, but ignored it.  He suddenly found conversation with Peter so engaging, that he didn't want to leave.  Here, he finally had someone he could relate to on a scientific level. "You know, I’m something of a scientist myself," he said with genuine enthusiasm.

Peter nodded.  "I know.  I've read your papers on nanotechnology.  Really brilliant."

Norman smiled, impressed at this young man standing before him. He was only a high school student, and yet...he read HIS scientific papers?  "Really? You....understood it all?"

"I wrote a paper on it," Peter grinned sheepishly, as if he hated the attention he was getting.

Norman nodded in approval.  "Impressive.  Your parents must be proud."

"I live with my aunt and uncle," Peter said, slightly apologetic. "They are proud."

Unfortunately for Norman, their teacher called out to them from the doorway, warning them that he was closing the door.  The expression on Norman's face could only be described as “disappointment”.

Harry grimaced. "Dad, we have to go." He began to pull Peter along, but Norman stopped them to shake Peter's hand one more time.

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Osborn," Peter said.

Norman grinned at Peter. "Hope to see you again," he added before heading back to the car.  He was barely out of earshot when he vaguely heard Peter speak to Harry.

"He doesn't seem so bad...."

Norman smirked as he slid back into the car.  He didn't hear what his son's reply was, but he had a feeling that Harry was feeding Peter some negative propaganda about Norman Osborn.  He sank into the back seat, ordering the driver to head for OsCorp....and absently stared out the windows as the car pulled away.

Oh well.....at least someone appreciates the work I do.
 

TBC
------
 

Author's Note:  I know, I know.....it's not very interesting right now....but believe me, the story WILL pick up speed.  Don't forget to review!

~ Jen

padme_76@yahoo.com
 

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