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“Poor guy looks half dead.”
“Real professional, he can still hear you.”
Fingers snap in front of his face, and the first medic makes an odd expression.
“You sure? You check him for shock? That blanket doesn’t seem to be cutting it.”
Hands slip from Eddie’s cheeks and he drops his head, staring into his lap as he just….sinks. Everything feels empty.
Especially him.
“Don’t you have something better to do than hover over my patient making rude comments?” the second medic hisses. There’s a rustling of fabric.
“Not really. He’s the only survivor.”
The only survivor.
Eddie swallows, but the lump is painful and he doesn’t manage to move it. His eyes are stinging.
“Why don’t you go double check?” Eddie’s medic snaps. Eddie is vaguely aware that the other man has wandered away with an annoyed kind of petulant shuffle to his gait, but it doesn’t really matter one way or the other.
The only survivor.
“Hey buddy, you still with me?”
Eddie grunts.
“I’m gonna ask you a few questions, ok? What’s your name?”
“Eddie Brock.”
“Mr. Brock...do you know where you are? What happened?”
“Ambulance. Explosion. Fell in the water.”
“Okay, well, your sense of humor is still in there somewhere.”
There’s a small smile in the medic’s tone, but Eddie doesn’t glance up to see it. He’s staring at a dark puddle on the bruised street. The pathetic part of him is still willing it to move.
“I’m gonna check on your chest, ok? Make sure everything’s intact before we try to move you to the hospital for a real looking over. Sound alright? Shouldn't hurt, but tell me if anything does.”
Eddie just nods once. The gesture has sharp edges and his fingers curl fishbone white and cold around the blanket draped across his back.
“Okay, just sit up for me as best you can?”
Eddie complies numbly, his expression vacant as the medic presses his hands across his clavicles, ribs, down into his stomach.
“Well nothing feels broken, anything hurt?”
Everything.
“No.”
“Ok well one more thing and then I'll let the hospital take care of you--just sit tight. You don't need to do anything but live for this part.”
He can tell the poor man is trying.
Eddie still just sits there, dark eyes cast away, hand clenched on the blanket.
It's the only outward sign.
The medic’s hand flattens against his chest, trapping the bell of a stethoscope between. Eddie loses track of how long he listens, of really the man's presence at all until:
“Well, good news is your heart sounds perfectly healthy. Are you a runner, Mr. Brock? A swimmer perhaps? It's very strong.”
The prickling in his eyes comes back with a vengeance, right along with the lump and Eddie finally can't fight it anymore. He buries his face in his hands and he weeps.
We are...sad?
We are so weak. Our last we gave to Eddie. We told him we could fix his heart. We would not lie. Not to Eddie.
We are shredded, we are surprised to be aware at all. We thought the fire was the end, but something else is around us now.
We recognise Eddie. Eddie's heart. Eddie's lungs. Eddie's shuddering ribs as he cries over us.
Because of us?
Eddie cries because of us and I cannot reach out far enough to reach his mind and tell him I am still here.
I am very small, and very tired.
I wrap around his heart instead. I place harmless roots between the fibrous muscle, blanketing the source of each beat with my own exhausted nerves.
I sleep. I sleep and I grow, and Eddie keeps on breathing and eating and living, thinking he is alone.
I grow inside him, gently coating his aorta like ink, the backs of his ribs like ivy.
It is three long weeks before I can tell him we are there.
When we do, he drops a glass.
“Venom??”
Yes, Eddie?
His lungs heave and he bends over the counter, eyes wide as he wonders if he's finally lost it. His heart is beating so hard it almost hurts.
“You better be real,” he says, shaking his head once as if that will help him to cope.
We are real, Eddie. We lived.
Eddie sags against the counter and slowly sinks to the floor with his back against it. “You gave me a heart attack, man!” he scolds at last, a wide grin on his face as he stares up at the ceiling.
No, we fixed that!
The indignation in Venom's tone causes Eddie to laugh out loud, sheer relief filling him up. He hasn't felt this good since before Anne left.
“Yes. You did.”