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Avengers Tower had always been one of the only buildings in New York Harry Osborn had never considered going inside; he never thought he could, one of the only buildings that a barrier might even apply to an Osborn, so why even think about it? Avengers Tower was for big heroes. Infallible legacies that put on costumes every day for the greater good of humanity, et cetera et cetera, a greater good that was far out of Harry's means of living. He probably would have laughed at the idea.
Yet, here he was. Tracing back his route Harry wasn't sure how he had managed his way to find the balcony he was standing on now, or if he would ever find it again -- the hallways were twisted and expansive even without all the "restricted floors" and restricted doors, all of which he could get through with the security card Lily had given him -- but for now he was content leaning on the railing looking at the dazzling glitter of city lights beyond. If he couldn't get his girlfriend (was she still his ex-girlfiend?) out yet, he could at least get himself out of the claustrophobic trappings of his father's latest enterprise for a few minutes. He'd found it outside by complete accident looking for the Goblin serum antidote.
Big heroes. Welcome to the Avengers, Harry Osborn.
"Hello?"
Harry's thoughts were derailed by a quiet voice coming from above him. He tilted his head up and saw a glowing golden Greek God of a man floating a few feet above him. Harry swallowed as the Sentry descended to land beside him on the balcony, his eyes bright and lacking pupils.
"Oh, sorry. No one told me this was… your roof," Harry said, muscles tensing. Of all of his dad's Avengers, the Sentry was one of the ones who creeped Harry out the most, although he had a hard time pinpointing why. Looking at him now, even in the dark, Harry could see that there was probably only four or five years difference between them. Still without knowing why, that creeped him out more.
"Harry Osborn, right?" The Sentry asked brusquely, clearly not noting Harry's discomfort. "Mr. Osborn's son. He doesn't speak of you too often, but sometimes he does."
"That sounds about right," Harry said, moving his gaze over the city again. Not often but sometimes. That was Norman's parenting technique summed up in four simple words. "He hasn't said anything about you. Or… any of… not in detail. I know that you're pretty…"
He hesitated, a different word on his tongue than the one he ended up saying.
"Famous."
The Sentry's eyes were upon him again like terrible headlights. What little of him Norman had prepared Harry for had always been described as a "force," frightening and peaceful, but Harry felt no peace at all and wondered how Norman could. How any sane person could, but of course, Norman--
"You don't need to worry," said the Sentry. "The serum might feel bad at first, but once you adjust to it it'll feel like the best thing that's ever happened to you."
The word "serum" made Harry's forehead begin to sweat. "I've had bad experiences with serums, among other things. Some people would appreciate a bit of warning before they have something foreign injected into their bloodstream."
The Sentry watched him silently, and Harry stared forward, murmuring, "Listen to me, talking about addiction problems as if you would understand."
There was a hand on his shoulder now. Harry stopped breathing, looking up at the Sentry, who towered at least five inches over him even with both feet on the ground. Harry expected it to be horrible, but it wasn't. Frightening and peaceful, Norman's memory whispered to him.
He didn't feel frightened at the moment. He felt nothing except the irrational feeling that maybe somehow the Sentry did understand. He felt what Norman must have felt. And he wondered why that felt so nice.
"It's not the same as drugs," the Sentry said at last, in that voice that to Harry was surprisingly soft. "Norman helped me with my problems. He told me that as long as you let your demons know you didn't believe in them, they couldn't harm you. You don't need a fix to feel good," he added slowly. "To be a part of something."
"I don't want a fix," said Harry. He looked at the Sentry with wide eyes.
"You need to trust him if you want him to help you. No one else understands that, Harry. If you don't trust him, he can't help you."
Lily, Harry thought, with a stab of guilt to his chest. Spider-Man and Peter Parker, and his baby, their baby, Lily, and… he remembered what he always remembered, in therapy, in nightmares, Norman's concern when Harry was twitching and gone on too much LSD, Norman's warnings to Harry against all those that might try and break his heart (and hadn't they, hadn't they), Norman offering him jobs, this job, the OsCorp job, those poisonous words: "I only want to help you be stronger."
Their baby. Lily. His son, Normie. Harry focused on all of them to remind himself of all Norman's lies. If he couldn't believe in them, he couldn't believe in anything.
"Crazy," he whispered breathlessly, pulling away from the Sentry. "No. No. God, I almost listened. You--"
Those eyes, like headlights. Freezing him in place.
"You belong together. You've gotten addicted to his venom. That's what he does." Frightening. Peaceful. Harry wished he could understand. Maybe he was the only person who could. "He's giving you a fix and you don't even notice."
That was the worst part. Harry hurried back inside so that he could strangle back the urge to vomit.
How could anyone find that man peaceful? How could anyone think that without losing their mind?