Spectrum ⇒ Avengers [ 1 ]

Amnesiac

"Brynn!"
"Harry." I instinctively pull him into a hug, my arms pressing into his back tightly. He looks like he hasn't slept for a decade, and he's so pale that I wonder if he's getting sick, too. "How is he?" I ask, letting go, but leaving my hands on his shoulders.
"Better." He manages to crack a smile. "He's complaining about not being able to move around. Says he wants to go out with me somewhere." His voice is incredulous.
"Wow." Peter was right. That's a definite shift in personality. "That's a good sign, isn't it?"
"Yeah." He scratches his throat. "I guess I'm just not used to it." He looks almost frail, and my heart goes out to him. "He likes new people coming in- do you want to-?"

I shift nervously on my feet. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude." And he might have a psychotic break and try to kill me. That would be bad, too.
"No, he's been asking about my friends for ages now." He shrugs. "I can't believe he's actually taking an interest." There's no way I can say no.
"Yeah, okay then," I say, trying to keep as much panic out of my voice as I can. "If it's okay."

Apparently hospitals aren't for rich people, because Norman Osborn is hospitalised in a now-isolated wing of the Oscorp Tower. Doctors with hushed voices and spotless white lab coats pass us as we walk, moving out of the way of Harry and shooting curious glances at me.

My mouth dries up as we get closer, imagining the worst- Norman Osborn, hideously burnt, his eyes wild and angry; Norman Osborn reaching for me, screaming at me; Norman Osborn silent, evil, waiting for the opportunity to kill me.

Harry pulls the curtain aside, and I stare at the man in the bed.
Norman Osborn is beaming.
"You must be Harry's friend!" He's covered in bandages and rigged up to so many machines I can't count them, but he seems surprisingly chipper. A swaddle of white bandages his head, and I can see that half his hair has burnt away from the fire.
"Dad, this is Brynn- she was there when..." Harry trails off.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I don't remember a thing," Norman says apologetically, sticking out his hand. I hesitate for a moment, and then tentatively shake it. "The doctors say it's unlikely my memories come back, but as long as I know my son - and of course his friends- are safe, there's really nothing to worry about." Unless you start remembering, and kill someone, I think.
"It's fine, Mr Osborn, I'm just glad you're okay." I smile painfully.

"Call me Norman, please. Yes- Brynn, I think Harry's mentioned you..." He squints at my face. "You do look familiar, too- what can that be?"
I stare at him, my heart going into overdrive. It's a good thing I'm not hooked to a monitor, I think, because my readings would be off the charts right now.
"...he took you to the party, didn't he?" Norman grins triumphantly. "I saw you at the party."
I also thought you were going to kill me at that party, but that's besides the point.
"Yep, I was there. That must be it." I agree.

Peter's right- he's like a completely different person. His face, his body language, everything has changed. Even his voice! I've never really seen someone's voice change- it's still orange, but before it was bright, burning, acidic. Now, though, it's practically pastel, paler, calmer. That's what convinces me he isn't acting- how the hell would he be able to manipulate a colour he doesn't even know exists? Just like me, his memories are wiped away. He's got a blank slate.

"Mr Osborn, we're going to change your bandages-" a woman doctor with sleek black hair announces, manoeuvring around me. "-some privacy, please."
Harry touches me shoulder, and I realise it's time to go.
"Nice to meet you, again. Brynn." Norman smiles. "Harry'll have to invite you round again, so we can really catch up."
I smile awkwardly. "Sounds good."
The last glimpse I have of him is him laughing and joking with the doctor, his face radiant with happiness.