Norman Captures Harry
Norman was holding Harry's drivers license, face inscrutable. “Steve Harrison Stark,” he said with disdain. The expressionless mask slipped away, replaced by barely controlled rage. “Did Tony Stark put you up to this? Did he think this would be funny?”
Harry shook his head. “Tony told me not to.” He wasn't on the verge of tears. He was still in a state of shock. His eyes were perhaps a little too dry. This wasn't the emotional family reunion he'd been hoping for. There were a lot less hugs and the physical restraints were an unwelcome addition. His anger was almost a perfect match for Norman's.
“I should've listened. I should have listened, but I saw this—this documentary, and they, one of the parents, talked about how the worst part was not knowing what happened, that it was actually a relief to find their missing child dead, because at least it gave them an answer. They were able to lay them to rest.” Harry got quiet for a second. Thinking about that family brought tears to the surface. He hadn't been able to muster any sympathy for Norman since he'd been physically assaulted, caught, and brought here, but Harry could still cry for them and their loss.
“So you thought telling me my son was alive would somehow be better?”
Harry's tears turned hot and blurred his vision. He would've angrily wiped them away if his hands were free. He wanted to scream. “I couldn't fake my death. I couldn't lie to you! But I–I wanted you to know... I wanted you to know that I was alive, safe, and happy so you wouldn't go on thinking the worst had happened. I thought—or I hoped—that would be enough for you, so you could... move on...
“And maybe—maybe—if you had promised not to ruin everything, then maybe I could have let you back into my life. I was—I was so stupid for thinking you'd care about what I wanted.
“Tony told me you didn't care, but I didn't want to believe him.”
Norman hadn't been prepared for the faker to be this... this committed to the act. He got out of his seat and turned away from Harry.
On the one hand, it would be incredibly satisfying to tear Tony Stark's son apart, limb from limb, but...
“You look nothing like Tony.”
Harry started laughing.
Norman turned around. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, his heart being squeezed. The sound was too familiar.
Harry kept laughing hysterically until he ran out of breath. “I... I... told... you... I—” he breathed out a heavy sigh, all traces of mirth faded quickly. “I'm adopted. He picked me up at some... some expo or convention, I forget. I just know there was a lot of important people wearing suits and talking about business or science or both.”
Harry's gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance. His vision was clouded by memories of the past. Some of the most vivid memories he had. The last couple days that he had with his dad before Tony abducted him. So many details were seared into Harry's brain. He wondered how well Norman remembered the events, if he even remembered them in the same way.
“I remember being properly introduced to Tony when we got seated at the same dinner table. He bought me a Shirley Temple.
“I remember that night you said I made you proud. And I promised that I wouldn't let Tony tempt me into causing trouble. I promised, but then I—”
Norman was hanging on Harry's every word.
Norman walked out of the room. His phone was in his hand before he closed the door. It slammed shut and he put in the call. Norman ordered a paternity test. Clearly, clearly the DNA on record had been tampered with, because this wasn't a fraud. This was Harold Theopolis Osborn in the flesh, back from the dead. Norman's son had come home and the first thing he'd done was to nearly kill him.
The DNA results were a formality. Norman was certain that this was Harry. His Harry. And Norman had almost lost him again. Forever.
How was he going to walk this back? How was he going to win Harry's trust after almost killing him?