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Chapter Text

Eddie hates everything about this.

Because planes go high, Venom says drowsily. And you are a pussy.

            Eddie checks his ticket—tucked into his hoodie pocket—for the fifth time and rolls his suitcase toward the gate. “Nice, V,” Eddie says under his breath. “Way to be supportive.”

            We are always supportive.

            Eddie repeats the information in his head like a mantra: Gate 96, flight 2490, departing 11:45. He’s powerwalking through the terminal, side-stepping through the crowds, and squinting at the big, electronic signs that show the status of all the flights. His flight might be running 15 minutes behind, but he’s running about a half-an-hour behind, thanks to Mr. Hungry-all-the-damn-time.

            It’s 11:30 now. Not very much time to make it to the plane, get on, get his seat…

            “So, when you say you’ll be asleep for 24 to 48 hours, are you leaning more toward the 24 or the 48?” Eddie asks, slightly out of breath. On the one hand, it will be nice not to have to worry about feeding Venom for the entire cross-country flight. On the other hand, he can’t stop picturing the plane going down. With Venom in “hibernation,” they would both die…

            Don’t know. Guess we’ll see, Venom says. Already, they feel quieter inside Eddie’s head. Like they’re under water. There’s a pause, in which Eddie can feel his symbiote stretching like a cat inside of his chest. Our heart rate is still elevated, they comment. Nervous, Eddie?

            It could have been a jab, or it could have been an innocent observation. Either way, Eddie bristles. “Yeah, I’m nervous,” he mutters. “If I’d have known you were going to go MIA on me, I wouldn’t have scheduled the interview this week.”

            It’s not like Eddie hasn’t taken long plane trips before. It’s part of the job, after all. But usually, he would drug himself up with Xanax and a whole bottle of tequila before the flight, really shove himself down in the blissful hole of drugged-up stupidity.

            Can’t do that with Venom, though. They hate the taste of alcohol and their heightened metabolism shreds any tranquilizer Eddie might take. So, not only is Eddie forced to sit approximately 7.5 miles off the ground for six and a half hours, he has to do it alone. No Venom, no Xanax, no drunken stupor.

            He really, really, really hates everything about this.

“Good afternoon, folks, we’ll be taking off in about five minutes. Please remain in your seats, buckle up, and enjoy the flight. Thanks for choosing United.”

            As the pilot signs off the intercom, Eddie adjusts his seatbelt again. It feels like it’s cutting into his oxygen supply. The man in the seat beside him gives him a side-eye, probably wondering if Eddie is going to throw up on him. His nervous energy is that strong.

            He might, actually.

            Not going to throw up, Venom tells him. His comments are getting fewer and farther between. Quieter too. Will be fine.

            Eddie bends forward to breathe. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the rhythmic fluttering of Venom’s separate pulse in the base of his throat. It’s comforting in a way he never thought it would be. “Thanks, V,” he whispers.

            It takes Venom a few seconds to muster up the energy to respond. Am sleeping now, they say so quietly Eddie can barely hear them. Will be okay, Eddie. Statistically safer. They don’t say safer than what – just safer.

            Eddie breathes. “Night, buddy,” he whispers.

            Goodnight, Eddie.

            There’s a whir of engines and Eddie leans back, squeezing his lips together. The man beside him asks if he’s okay. He doesn’t even hear himself say, “Yes.” Instead, he tries to think about something – anything other than their rapidly increasing speed, nose pointing to the sky.

            He latches onto the conversation of just last night.

            As it turns out, symbiotes don’t sleep all that often. Their planet is a virtual hellscape, in which they need to be constantly vigilant, only allowing themselves to sleep every few months. Like hibernation. The caveat of this being that, once a symbiote has entered this sleeping state, it’s extremely difficult to wake them up and—during this time—their powers of regeneration are drastically weakened. They rely on their host entirely.

            It’s a lot of pressure. Eddie has become accustomed to Venom’s overprotective streak, (almost literally) biting the heads off of anyone who dares even look at Eddie the wrong way. What he’s not accustomed to is the idea of a weakened, defenseless Venom: a little, sleeping jelly in his chest that is relying on him for food, protection, everything really.

            “Woah, what! You know I’ve let my fair share of fish die, right? I’m not to be trusted like this, man!” he had argued as they lay in bed, him trying to drift to sleep.

            We are not a fish, Venom said. We do not die so easily.

            “Yeah, well…all I’m saying is it’s a bad idea.”

            Do not have a choice. We trust you, Eddie.

            And that just made it worse.

The plane is at its highest altitude, the safety of the airport long gone.

Nonetheless, Eddie thinks he might be getting a grip on himself. He doesn’t feel like vomiting anymore, which is good. And when the stewardess offered him a cocktail, he sipped it and didn’t find it repulsive. Apparently, Venom’s tastes don’t affect him when he’s sleeping.

            And that is very, very good. He orders three more drinks and now the guy in the window seat is giving him weird looks for an entirely different reason.

            Eddie doesn’t care.

            A few times, he tries to talk to Venom, just to see how much it will take to wake him up. For science! Nothing even makes the symbiote stir…and that is highly disconcerting. His mind feels weirdly empty, like a childhood bedroom stripped of its Pokémon posters and framed picture of Madonna…

They’re about two hours into the six-hour flight when the plane starts to shake.  

            Just as Eddie was starting to calm down…

            “Nothing to work about, folks. A little turbulence is completely normal,” the pilot assures them.

            Eddie orders another drink and white-knuckles his arm rest. It doesn’t feel like “a little” turbulence – the whole cabin is shaking. He tries not to notice the nervous glances between the other passengers and places a hand over the spot on his chest where Venom is sleeping.

            Don’t worry, love, he thinks. Everything is okay. Venom doesn’t move at all.

            Eddie swallows and turns his head, squeamishly peering out the round window beside his neighbor. Clouds and mountains. Lots of mountains. They must be above Utah by now.

            BAM

            The lights flicker and a few startled screams jump from the passengers as the plane jumps again. A flight attendant rushes down the aisle, not stopping to speak to anyone. He disappears into the back of the plane.

            Eddie grips his midsection and, heart thundering, says, “Venom?” out loud. He doesn’t get a response.

            “Everyone please remain seated and engage your seatbelts,” the pilot says suddenly. A few half-hearted explanations about weather or something tumble out of his mouth but Eddie doesn’t hear any of them.

            More people shriek as the plane rumbles like thunder, lights flickering. The elderly woman behind Eddie starts to pray and his stomach twists with white-hot terror.

Inside of him, Venom apparently senses their host’s distress and starts to squirm.

            “Venom?” Eddie asks again, his voice an octave too high.

            Regardless, Venom is still too out-of-it to reply. Whether they even know what’s going on, Eddie can’t tell.

            That’s when there’s a spine-breaking jolt and the lights in the cabin turn firetruck-red.

Screams pierce the cabin. Oxygen masks drop from the ceiling and Eddie feels like he’s in a horror movie.

It kind of feels like the plane is pointing down.

An attendant comes on the intercom, explaining procedure rapid-fire. Eddie barely hears her.

            He fumbles with his mask, hands shaking as he straps it over his face. His eyes cut over and it looks like the mountain top is getting closer. The man beside him is white with fear. His mask isn’t on yet.

            “Hey!” Eddie shouts under his own. “Put your mask on!”

            His neighbor is frozen, eyes huge, hands gripping the seat. He, too, is watching the mountain grow closer.

            So, it’s not just Eddie then.

            This is actually happening. They’re actually going down!

            Eddie scrambles to grab the man’s mask, forcing it over his face.

            The plane is rumbling like an earthquake. Eddie can feel the vibrations in his jaw. Everyone is screaming.

            “Venom!” he yells, eyes glued to the sight of the ground rocketing closer. They’re close enough to see ground details now. Trees, fields, houses… “Venom!”

            Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

            An instant later, there’s a deafening bang, the plane swirls in the air, going upside-down.     

            A blinding flash erupts out of the corner of Eddie’s vision, from the engine.

Then heat, fire, screaming.

Trees, smoke—

Thump,

Breaking branches,

Breaking glass,

Plastic flying,

Luggage flying,

Venom still silent, still motionless in his chest—

CRASH.            

Chapter Text

Venom wakes to claustrophobic darkness, to the taste of smoke, the sense of…hanging.

            They’re still so tired – they shouldn’t be awake yet. Something is wrong.

            Eddie? they say. They can feel their host around them – nerves, ribs, muscle, but he doesn’t answer. Venom stretches, reaching deeper into Eddie’s nervous system.

They feel like they’re in a fog. Everything that was once easy to do is now tremendously difficult, like waking Eddie up from a deep sleep. Should be a cake walk, but it isn’t.

Eddie doesn’t react to Venom’s pokes and prods. His brain activity is unusually low, even for Eddie…

A sick feeling clenches inside of Venom. They’re so close to slipping back into unconsciousness.

They reach out with black tendrils, searching for sickness, injury, whatever might be keeping Eddie—Oh.

Eddie is bleeding.

Venom is awake – that’s the first thing Eddie registers. He can feel them squirming around inside his stomach, moving fast, almost frenzied.

            “Venom…?” he asks. His voice comes out feeble, little more than a wheeze. Why does he feel so shitty?

            Do not open your eyes, Eddie.

            Well, that’s not fucking ominous.

And his back really hurts. Like, really bad. So do his hip and his legs. Why can’t he remember anything?

            Despite Venom’s advice, Eddie tries to open his eyes. They snap back shut without his consent. Venom is keeping them closed, keeping him in the dark.

            What you no understand? Do not open your eyes.
           “Well, why—” He coughs. His mouth tastes like…ash. “Why not?”

            You will not like what you see.

Venom is doing something. Eddie can feel their gooey tendrils hard at work, seeping through his insides in a way that never ceases to make him nauseous. Feels like slugs. Not that Eddie would ever tell them that.

“Wha’does that mean?” Eddie kind of slurs, head spinning. Only then does he notice the sensation of dangling.

What the hell?

It comes to back to him in a flash – the plane, the explosion, falling out of the air…

Stay calm, Venom tells him, sensing his rising stress.

“Oh, so we’re high-up? Is that it?” That would explain why Venom is insisting he keep his eyes shut. If they landed somewhere dangerous and Eddie panicked, he could cause the whole plane to fall. “I’m not gonna freak out, V. Just tell me what’s happening.”

Yes, we are up very high. But that is not the problem—

“Then what? Is everyone else okay? V, you gotta let me open my eyes, man! If people are hurt, we need to help them—"

Not a good idea. We are not in a position to help anyone—

Officially fed up with Venom, Eddie forces his eyes open, even as the symbiote tries to keep them closed.

The first thing he sees is…grass. Dark-green grass, pine needles, and shards of scorched metal. There are smoldering embers glowing on the forest floor and the whole cabin is thick with smoke.

Guess that’s why his mouth tastes like shit.

The only problem is he’s looking down on the ground from high up. High, high up and there’s no one in front of him.

His seat was almost halfway toward the back of the plane.

Jesus Christ the front half of the plane is gone.

Then he looks down, toward himself and…oh.

Told you not to look.

There’s a chunk of metal shrapnel embedded halfway in his seat. It looks like it ripped a good portion of his leg open on impact. His jeans and the bottom of his hoodie are black with blood.

A lot, a lot of blood.

Oh, fuck. He’s gonna be sick.

Do not get sick. Don’t need another thing to fix, Venom growls.

“Can’t—” Eddie swallows the bile rising in his throat. He’s suddenly freezing cold. “Can’t you fix it?” When he got impaled by Riot, Venom fixed that in seconds. This should be no sweat for the big guy!

Trying, Venom tells him. They sound quiet still. Distant. A lot of damage. We are still very weak, need rest. Their tentacles are lacing through the wound like silky, black ribbons or medical glue – but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything.

“Oh, shit…right…” Eddie closes his eyes as a wave of dizziness rushes through his head. “You’re supposed to be hibernating…”

Cannot sleep yet, Venom says. Must heal us first.

“So, you can? Heal us?”

Eventually. It will take time.

Great. Eddie opens his eyes, wincing at the distance between him and the forest floor. Must be a fifteen-foot drop. Dangerous, but probably not life threatening. Probably.

He swallows and looks down at his seat belt. It’s the only thing keeping him in the plane. Only then does it register that he’s one of the only people still in the plane.

His neighbor—the man who was too freaked to put on his mask—is gone. Ripped out of his seat by wind or something else. The only person he can see is a woman, just out of the corner of his eye.

She’s wearing a pink peacoat that’s mostly red now – and she’s no longer alive.

Fuck.

He forces his eyes away, swallowing sickness again. His hand fumbles for the buckle of his seatbelt and Venom stills inside him.

We jumping? they ask.

“More like falling…” Eddie grimaces. This is going to fucking hurt.

Venom makes a humming noise, almost dismissive. Well, don’t break anything else. Have enough to do already.

“Yeah, thanks for the support…”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and puts a hand on the release button. His pulse is battering in his throat and he counts one, two, three—

Nope. Nope can’t do it.

He opens his eyes, groans at the distance.

He’ll die! He’ll break his neck!

In his head Venom sighs deeply. Don’t be a drama queen, they say. As if they have room to talk.

“Dram—drama queen? You have got to be kidding me—”

Fine. We will do it.

“What? No! No, no, no—”

Venom pushes Eddie’s thumb down.

It feels like they fall for a long time, but it must only be seconds. Half-seconds.

Eddie lands with a thud and a wheezing groan. “Oh, fff—shit…I think my spine is broken…”

Our spine is not broken.

“Are you sure? Cause…cause it feels broken…”
            Eddie pulls up a sore, bruised arm, and uses it to roll himself onto his back. He lays in the cool grass with his eyes closed. There’s a busted suitcase laying a few inches to his left and another a few feet away near a tree. Personal belongings spilled like guts all over the ground. Clothes, makeup, photographs, cameras…

But no people.

“Are we the only ones who made it…?”

Eddie peers at his hip out of morbid curiosity. Venom is all over it but they can’t help the pain.

It’s getting dark out. The sky is hard cobalt, dusted with orange clouds. It will be night soon – and they’re hurt in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Completely alone.

In a moment of blind optimism, Eddie checks his pocket for his cell phone but, of course, it’s gone. Probably fell out when he was getting tossed around inside of a crashing plane. He scans the grass for a moment, squinting to see if he can find it—or any phone—but it doesn’t look likely.

Stop moving, Venom commands.

“Can’t,” Eddie grinds out, struggling to his knees. “Gotta find shelter. Or a road.”

Hungry.

Eddie exhales deeply. “Of course, you are.”

Chapter Text

They’re in the mountains.

            They’re in the goddamn fucking mountains in the middle of Nowhere, America. Somewhere between California and Iowa.

            Eddie holds his hip, which is still seeping blood despite Venom’s best efforts, and stares down at the miles of woods below him. They disappear into the darkness of night without a single light to be seen in any direction.

            No roads, no houses, just trees. Lots and lots of trees.

            The back half of the plane is about a mile behind him, leaned against a cliff and a bunch—you guessed it—trees. He still hasn’t found the front half. Or the people that were inside.

            He thinks that might be the most disturbing part about this. That they’re just…gone. Scattered to the wind like pieces of paper.

            Once emergency services finds out, they’ll be finding corpses sprinkled through these woods for months. Years, even.

            If they find out. Eddie is a reporter, after all. He’s heard his fair share of planes gone missing, never to be seen again. Maybe this is one of those planes.

            As a cold wind bites across his exposed skin, Eddie sways like a piece of grass in a breeze. His head is spinning.

            You’ve lost blood. Lots of it, Venom tells him. His symbiote is fighting to stay awake – which is basically fighting instinct. And they’re fairing about as well as a human would if they hadn’t slept for months.

            Basically: it’s a losing battle.

            “I know, buddy,” Eddie mutters. He pushes off the tree he’s been using for balance and limps toward the slope leading further into the woods. “But we gotta make a decision: stay near the wreck and hope someone finds us? Or poke around, see if we can find a trail or a cabin or something?”
            Don’t like leaving things to chance, Venom says shortly. Then, after a pause, But may be better. You are hurt. We need rest.

            “Maybe you’re right…” Eddie turns and squints toward the plane. Even from here, he can see the destruction it caused in the crash. Flattened trees, smoke – he’s lucky the trees didn’t catch fire.

            Still might.

            Clutching his hip, Eddie trudges back toward the wreckage. At the very least, he might be able to find something to eat. Now that the shock’s started to wear off, Venom isn’t the only one who’s hungry.

            What caused the crash? Venom asks. They’re still squirming around inside Eddie’s midsection, stretching like they’re trying to stay awake.

            “Dunno,” Eddie says. “There was turbulence and then all of a sudden, one of the engines went.” He flinches remembering the flash, the heat, the terror… His ears have started ringing and he’s super cold – shivering, actually.

            Venom is silent for a while and Eddie takes it like they’re busy trying to stitch him back together. As he limps back toward the plane, rubbing his arms for friction and blinking rapidly to clear his vision of spacey dots, he feels Venom go still for a second.

            “V?” Eddie asks, voice a little raspy. “Did you fall asleep on me?” He keeps his voice light, like it doesn’t matter—they’re too weak to do much good anyway—but the idea of being alone is…scary.

            No, Venom says quietly. There’s something in their tone.

            Eddie frowns. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stopping to take a breather. His head is really pounding. He can hear blood in his ears.

            You are about to lose consciousness.

            “What?” Eddie straightens. “No, I’m not. I feel—well, I don’t feel fine, but I’m not about to faint!”

            Eddie, I am sorry, Venom says, surprising Eddie with the first-person pronoun they never use. Venom doesn’t often take blame. Should not have gone to sleep until you were safe.

            “What? No, man, don’t—” He finds himself breathless, starting to double over. “Don’t do that, okay? You were right. Planes are usually real safe. We just got the…the…” It’s hard to think of words. Maybe he is gonna pass out. “The shitty side of the statistic…”

            The ringing in his ears is now a high-pitched wail. Eddie sinks onto the ground with his head between his knees, gripping fistfuls of grass and pine needles to stay anchored.

            “Hey, uh…V, I think you were…I think you were right…” Eddie tries breathing deeply but the world is only getting darker. “Think I’m gonna pass out now…”

            It’s okay, Eddie. Won’t let anything happen to you.

            Eddie’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “I know,” he rasps.

Eddie is dying.

            Venom doesn’t tell him that, of course. But their host is losing too much blood. If Venom wasn’t here, he would already be dead.

            And that realization makes Venom cold.

            They need to rest, to get strong, to save Eddie. But they can’t. If they sleep, Eddie will die. But if they don’t sleep, their strength will only dwindle. They need to eat. Eating will make them strong, temporarily. But they can’t hunt without Eddie.

            Eddie, who is slowly dying – who they should have protected.

Two hours later, a squirrel ventures down from the tops of the trees. Either it doesn’t see Eddie laying there, or thinks he’s dead.

            As soon as it stops on the fat root beside Eddie’s head, a fist of black talons rips the squirrel off its perch. Eddie doesn’t even wake up as Venom swallows the animal whole – and then surges directly to Eddie’s wound.

            They burn the whole squirrel stitching damaged cells and, although it helps, Venom feels themself drifting closer and closer to sleep…

As if things couldn’t get worse, it starts to rain.

            It’s probably around three in the morning when the icy downpour startles Eddie awake. His clothes are already soaked, the ground running red with blood from his hip.

            The woods are pitch black. Eddie moves by fumbling, blind hands alone, pulling himself against the trunk of the tree he fainted against. Whether it’s stiffness from laying on the ground or a building infection, the pain in his hip has tripled.

            He actually bites off a scream the first time he tries to move that leg.

            Several minutes later, after he’s dragged himself backwards into the meager shelter of the tree, Eddie leans his forehead against his good knee, which is pulled to his chest for warmth. Not that it helps.

            His voice shakes as badly as the rest of him when he says, “When we get home, w-we are getting the longest, hottest f-fucking bath ever. And also drinking a-all of the hot chocolate in the house.”

            That ought to make Venom happy.

Eddie painfully strips off his sopping hoodie. “Deal?” he asks, when his symbiote doesn’t voice any kind of enthusiasm. “Venom?”

Silence. Stillness.

For one, gut-wrenching moment, Eddie thinks Venom might be—

But no—

No, he can feel Venom in him still. Alive.

He deflates in relief. The exhaustion must have finally caught up, is all. They’re asleep. Eddie leans back against the tree with his eyes closed, feeling like he could use some sleep too. He shouldn’t though. Not out here, not in wet clothes. Dying of exposure is still a thing, even in the 21^st century.

Instead, he slowly picks himself up. The plane isn’t far. At least there, he can find some clean clothes in people’s luggage.

Ugh. He feels gross just thinking about robbing from the dead – or the injured. Hopefully just injured.

It’s really, really hard to get up. His left hip is stiff and feels sort of warm inside, as in under the skin. He can’t tell if that’s Venom working their magic, or a brewing infection. Either way, it’s making it hard to walk.

He holds onto the wound, which is more crusty and scabbed than wet now. That’s probably good, right? Nasty, but good. Venom must have been burning the midnight oil the whole time Eddie was out.

Eddie limps toward the wreck, picking up the acrid smell of smoke as he gets closer. It’s not very strong but it stands out against the musty-sweet smell of the woods. It’s almost like a campfire. Almost comforting.

Eddie sees the ghostly-blue glow of the flashlights first, then he hears the voices.

His first thought is: Thank God! Someone found the plane! He almost yells out to let them know he’s here.

A gun shot rings out before he gets the chance.

Eddie stops, clutching his hip. He can feel his heart thundering in his fingertips. Then, in the near-distance, a female voice marred by radio-static…

“That’s affirmative. Sweeping the area.” The flashlight turns on him.

Oh shit, oh fuck. What the hell?

Eddie throws himself out of the flashlight’s path, moving on instinct alone. He stumbles, crunching branches and sliding in mud, but plants himself behind a tangle of brush and briars just as someone emerges from the site of the plane wreck.

A figure dressed head-to-toe in black Kevlar steps out of the clearing. She has a black helmet over her head, one with a hard-plastic screen that completely obscures her face. She walk slowly, leading with her assault rifle, and sweep the forest with the flashlight mounted on its barrel.

Eddie is probably fifteen feet away. Close enough to see that her military-style armor does not say FBI or SWAT or anything of the like.

Who the hell is this?

Eddie holds his breath until she’s gone – disappeared into the woods. Only then does he risk moving, slowly getting to his feet and hunch-walking toward the plane, trying not to think about the single shot she tired.

He reaches the edge of the crash site and squints into the dark clearing. There’s a shape on the ground. Motionless like everything else. Could be anything – luggage, broken metal… Except Eddie doesn’t remember it being there before.

And he has a sick feeling he knows what it might be.

As he edges closer, running on adrenaline and the-need-to-know that’s almost killed his reporting career more than once, Eddie begins to make out more detail. The soft stitching of fabric, a puddle of liquid, hair…

He stops, innards twisting with nausea.

It’s a person - one of the plane attendants. Eddie remembers him.

He’s young – probably mid-twenties. Face is a little cut up and there’s a hell of a bruise above his eye, but otherwise, he looks physically okay. He would have lived.

A single bullet hole penetrates his forehead, right between the eyes.

This guy probably thought the same thing Eddie did. He was probably out in the woods, searching for shelter, saw the light and thought help! Rescue! Instead—

This was an execution.

Goosebumps prickle up his spine and he whips around, completely expecting the woman in black to be standing there. She isn’t, but he can see the alien glow of her flashlight in the woods.

As he’s stumbling—drunk on terror and adrenaline—toward the trees, he sees something laying in the dead man’s hand. A sleek, black cell phone.

Eddie hesitates only a beat before taking it.

He kneels, head whipping back and forth toward the woods, and presses the power button with shaking hands. The brightness of the screen feels like a target painted between his eyes. He tries to smother it under his hands.

It unlocks without a password prompt—thank Christ—and Eddie opens the camera. He feels borderline creepy about doing this. But this man’s family deserves to have the chance to identify him.

He closes the man’s eyes and covers the bullet hole with his hand before snapping a single picture of his face. Just in case.

Then, Eddie is running.

Or rather, limping as fast as he can into the woods.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My name is Eddie Brock,” he whispers, holding the phone as close to his mouth as possible. In the distance, he hears voices and stops dead in his tracks. They get louder, questioning, then BANG—BANG.

Two shots, then silence.

He’s gonna throw up.

“I—I, uh, I was on flight 2490 headed to Philadelphia, um…we crashed somewhere in the mountains and—”

BANG!

Eddie actually falls to his knees it scares him so badly.

Why are people coming out of the woodwork now of all times!

And why the fuck is this bitch killing them?

“Sir? Are you still there?”

“Uh—y-yeah. Yeah, listen—” He gets back to his feet and takes off again, keeping low, trying to keep as far away as possible. Venom really needs to wake up now! “There’s some woman in, like, black military Kevlar shooting people! She’s killed one man that I know of but I just heard two more shots go off.”

A beat of stunned silence. “Sir, slow down. Do you know the woman? Was she on the flight?”

“No, I—I don’t know who she is. I don’t know if she was on the flight. I haven’t seen her face. She has a helmet on.”

“Okay, are you safe right now?”

“Uh—” He peers around. He can’t see the flashlight anymore. The killer must have drifted father away. “Uh, yeah. I think so.” Then, away from the phone, he whispers, “Venom? Buddy, I need you to wake up now! We are in some serious shit.”

“All right, do you have any idea where the plane crashed? We have technicians scanning the radars right now, but anything you know will help us.”

“No, I have no—” He pauses. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

“Eddie, please don’t hang up the phone—”

“I’m not, just hang on.” He plants himself against a tree, heart pounding, hip aching. He minimizes the phone call and brings up Google Maps. It’s a long shot – but there was enough cell reception to call 911 so, maybe…

YEAH.

A little, orange blip shows his location.

He almost laughs in relief.

“Hey, I’m back. Yeah, I know where we crashed. It’s—”

SNAP.

He turns and he’s looking straight down the barrel of a rifle, flashlight turned off.

Chapter Text

SNAP – the breaking of a twig.

Eddie turns and he’s looking straight down the barrel of a rifle, flashlight turned off.

“Knees! Now!” The shooter barks.

            Eddie doesn’t move. His short few months with Venom have changed him, apparently. His hands don’t instinctively shoot up, nor does he immediately drop to his knees at her command.

            The killer’s helmet covers her face, so Eddie can’t see if she looks angry. But her voice sharpens just a hair. “I said get on your knees!”

            She gestures with the gun. Just to make a point. It says, “you don’t have a choice.”

            Slowly, Eddie lowers himself to the grass. One knee, then the other. “Who are you? Did you crash the plane?” he dares to ask, trying to see through the dark tint of glass over her face.

            “Shut the fuck up,” she says. “Are you Eddie Brock?”

            He tries not to look phased, even as his heart lodges in his esophagus. She’s here for him? Is she someone he pissed off with one of his articles?

            Now, he has two choices…but not really.

            The other people she found—shot—would have said no. That didn’t save them. That leaves the other option…

            Eddie swallows. “Yeah,” he says, immediately wincing.

            She doesn’t pull the trigger. Not right away, at least. She doesn’t move either, or say anything. For a long moment, she just…stares.

            Then, with a crinkle of Kevlar wrinkling, she speaks into a radio on her shoulder. “Stand by,” she says quietly. There’s no response from the other end. “I’m going to lower my weapon,” the shooter tells him firmly. “Try anything and you’ll be dead before you get your feet. Understood?”

            Eddie nods once. His mind is racing. There’s a slim, slim chance he could run – dive out of the way and use the trees for cover, but his hip is so fucked he doubts he could stand up quickly enough.

            Can’t get her gun either – she’s too far away. He’d have a bullet in his chest before he could even get close enough.

            The shooter pulls something off the thick, black belt around her waist. It looks like another radio with a big dial. She lowers her gun the rest of the way, then looks pointedly at Eddie as she turns the dial…

            The noise starts softly at first, then—

            SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKSSSSSSSSSHHHH

            Eddie folds. A scream rips from his throat as Venom shocks awake, vibrating inside his cells, screaming in his head, black tendrils constricting around his insides in pain—

            Eddie keeps thinking this will scare her, she’ll turn it off in a second—

            But she doesn’t.

            The shrieking goes on and on and on, the pain stretches on and on…

            And then, finally, in a burst like an exploding artery, Venom is thrown out of him. They land in a gooey pile four feet away, go still for a moment as Eddie also slumps, head pounding.

            Maybe it’s the blood loss or the shock of losing Venom, but Eddie can’t right himself. His eyes roll back and his cheek hits the forest floor – but he doesn’t pass out. Not entirely.

            He’s conscious enough to watch the shooter walk up to Venom, having produced some kind of container out of god-knows-where. Maybe she had it the whole time. The whole thing is metal, except for a narrow glass window maybe two inches wide and four inches long.

            She opens the container and drops it on top of Venom like they’re a spider, then closes the lid.

            Eddie moans, tries to sit up, but it’s like all the blood has been sucked out of him. He can barely move his arms, let alone stand.

            Venom is shrieking, panicking, smashing themself against the walls of the container. Eddie can hear them… His heart aches at the terrified noises they’re making.

            Then, the shooter turns back, looks at him laying on the ground. Wordlessly, she lifts her gun, levels it at his chest—

            And fires.

Venom sees Eddie die right in front of them, sees the woman level her gun and fire, sees Eddie spasm, clutch his stomach where blood soaks through his fingers, then slowly wilt…and go still.

            Venom screams and roars, shaking the canister in the bitch’s hand, but unable to break free.

            She killed Eddie!

            She killed Eddie!

            They couldn’t save him!

            SHE KILLED EDDIE!

The following moments go by in snippets for Venom.

            Eddie’s murderer shakes the container, yells at them to shut up, stop moving, because they’re still shrieking and throwing themself at the walls.

            They want to get through—get out.

            They want to get inside this woman’s body, kill her slowly, from within. Break her bones and eat the marrow, rip her organs apart, let her feel it. Every agonizing second of it.

            They want her to suffer.

            They don’t even feel their exhaustion anymore. All they feel is rage.

            Rage and deep, throbbing sorrow.

They walk for what feels like hours.

Eventually, Eddie’s murderer finds a road. If only Eddie had found it first… She waves down the first vehicle to pass by – a truck, and kills the driver. She stuffs Venom in the passenger seat and hops in behind the wheel.

            They’ve long-since stopped thrashing. Being outside of a host drains them. If they’re kept in this container for too long, they will die.

            They wonder if the shooter knows that.

            Then, she makes a fatal error. The killer takes off her helmet, tosses it to the floor of the passenger seat. Venom has seen her face. She is what Eddie might have found pretty – angular face, dark hair, light, tired eyes. She has a distinctive face. Venom will remember her.

            Now, it doesn’t matter what happens.

They will find her and they will make her suffer.

They drive for hours and hours, until the sun rises. They’ve long since left the mountains—left Eddie—behind. They’re on a flat, dusty road running through a sleepy town. They pull into a truck stop and the woman gets out. When she comes back, she’s wearing normal clothes – a flannel shirt and jeans. She has dumped the Kevlar murder suit, probably in a dumpster.

            She also has a breakfast sandwich wrapped in a paper towel and a cup of coffee. She refuses to look at Venom while she eats, feet up on the dash, quiet country music playing on the radio.

She turns the radio off when reports of the plane crash start flooding the channels. The media—Eddie’s colleagues—are calling the crash suspicious. Good, Venom thinks.

            If they die before they get a chance to kill this woman, she should get the electric chair. Or something equally as painful.

            Helicopters roar overhead, toward the mountains, as they rumble down the road. Search parties. Venom is afraid they won’t find anything good – just bodies.

            Something deep inside of them aches when they realize how long it’s been since Eddie was killed. Even if Venom got to him right now, it would be too late to save him. He’s too far gone; his body would reject symbiosis.

            Eddie is gone.

            Gone…

            The woman looks away from the road briefly to flick the glass of Venom’s container. “Still alive in there?” she asks.

            Yes. But they wish they weren’t.

They say being gut-shot is the slowest, most painful way to go.

            They’re probably right, Eddie can see that now.

            Blessed unconsciousness only held him for a little while before he awoke in screaming pain. How he’s still alive after all this blood loss is a mystery. The grass around him is warm and wet with the stuff and it’s all he can smell. Pine needles and copper.

            He’s in and out as the first helicopters arrive. He sees one go right over him and not see him laying there. The next one goes over, then circles back, hovers for a while. He can’t see the people on board, whether they're looking at him or some other nearby corpse.

            Guess he shouldn’t call himself a corpse yet, that’s probably rushing things…

            As the copter circles, trying to find a place to land, Eddie closes his eyes and touches the empty spot in his chest where Venom is usually curled up.

            It feels barren without them.

He passes out for a while, but when he wakes there are people.

            They’re talking to him, but he can’t understand their words. Everything is garbled and nothing makes sense. Someone shines a flashlight in his eyes and he jumps, flailing, thinking for a moment that it’s the shooter—that she came back.

            The people hold his arms down, pull up his shirt, feel around his hip…

            A cold, plastic mask slides over his face. It smells like a factory. He’s freezing cold – and almost the second he realizes that, someone throws an orange blanket over him. For the first time, a coherent sentence registers to his brain.

            “It’s okay, it’s okay,” the person says. “You’re safe now. Just relax.”

            Yeah, sure, he’s safe.

            But is Venom? Are they okay?

Chapter Text

Eddie knows he’s in a hospital before he even opens his eyes.

            Hospitals have distinctive smells, sounds: sickness and bleach, and the monotonous beeping of heart monitors. His eyelids are heavy and pasted shut. He can hear someone flipping pages, soft breathing…

            Something must tip off his silent companion because all of a sudden, there’s the sound of chair legs scraping on tile. A warm hand touches his arm.

            “Eddie?”

            Oh, it’s Anne. Thank God.

            “Eddie?”

            “Y—” He coughs, choking a little. His throat is so dry it feels like cotton. He opens his eyes to see Anne scrambling for the sink. She fills a dixie cup and brings it to his lips. God bless Anne Weying.

            “Slowly, slowly,” she says, holding the cup with laser-like focus.

            He downs the cup in two seconds flat, feeling only marginally better, but at least he can talk. “Where—” He coughs again. Anne goes back to the sink.

            “The hospital,” she tells him, understanding and misunderstanding at the same time.

            He drinks the next cup while Anne rings for the nurse. “No—” he rasps. “Where? What—what state?” Please don’t say California. Please don’t say he’s that far from where he last saw Venom.

            “Oh. They brought you to the closest hospital to the—” She stumbles. “To the crash site… We’re still in Utah.”

            He looks at her. “You flew all the way out here…?”

            She looks almost insulted. “For you? Of course, Eddie!” She touches his arm again, but he doesn’t allow himself to think that the intense emotion in her eyes is love. It’s not – at least not romantic love.

            He clears his throat. “Did…did anyone else—”

            Anne’s face darkens. “Um, yes. I, uh, I don’t know the exact number but…a dozen, maybe. Maybe a little more. They found some people by the front half of the plane – almost three miles away from your half. They’re all here in the hospital.”

            Eddie closes his eyes, feeling sick. A dozen out of hundreds.

            How many died in the crash? How many more were murdered by that psychopath?

            “Eddie…” Anne sits down on the edge of his bed. He opens his eyes to find her staring intensely at his face. “They’re saying some people didn’t die from the crash…that some were…” She hesitates, probably wondering if it’s okay to even ask him this. “…murdered.”

            Eddie nods once.

            Anne’s face pales. “Is that how this happened?” She looks at the thick bandages on his stomach.

            He nods again. “She was looking for me, Anne…” he whispers. His voice sounds horrible. Gravelly, like death itself. “She took Venom…”

            Anne goes still. For a second, she stares at him with a closed expression. “Eddie,” she says carefully. “Venom…died. Months ago, remember? In the explosion?”

            He’s shaking his head. “No, they—they didn’t die. I mean—most of them did, but a little part stayed inside me and regrew and…” He stops, swallowing another mouthful of water when Anne offers it. She’s staring wide-eyed. “Sorry—” he chokes out. “Been waiting for the right time to tell you…”

            But instead of getting angry, Anne closes her eyes for a second to gather her thoughts. “And this…person, this woman, who killed people…she took Venom? How?”

            “Blasted ‘em out of me with noise. Like you did with the MRI.” He wants to say more – to point out the fact that she had the noisemaker with her! That she was in the exact vicinity as the plane when it went down, with the right device to separate him and Venom, that she knew Eddie’s name!

            That she crashed the plane somehow!

            Only his throat hurts too badly to say it all and his inner reporter is going to have to wait right now, anyway. He can write up a story to put this murderer behind bars later. Right now, he has to find Venom!

They arrive outside a hotel and the woman parks her stolen truck in the back, next to some dumpsters.

            She gets out but leaves Venom inside. They can hear voices outside the truck. The woman and a man, talking. Venom can’t make out the words.

            For once in their life, they’re not hungry. A bad sign. A sign of impending death for a symbiote.

            They do feel weak. Tired. Their mind keeps drifting back to Eddie, his death coming back to them in nightmarish flashes of blood and screams.

            He was Venom’s most perfect host – a truly perfect match, unlike any they had found before, on any planet. Their bodies synched together in a way that felt like the universe had purposefully led Venom to Eddie – like destiny.

            Eddie was theirs. They were Eddie’s.

            They loved him.

            The passenger side door yanks open and the woman is there in her dumb flannel shirt. She pulls the capsule out, but something is different. Her hands are shaking.

            If there’s one thing Venom has become good at detecting in a human face, it’s distress. She drops the container as she pulls it out of the truck.

            It bounces and rolls a few feet away but doesn’t open, not even for a second.

            She curses and runs after it, picking it up and hurrying to the man she was talking to. Venom can’t see him from their awkward vantage point.

            “Here it is, sir,” the murderess says.

            The container switches hands. “Where?” the man asks. Venom almost smiles.

            The capsule is turned around, peered into, turned almost upside down. Not so easy to see inside that little, itty-bitty window, is it, assholes? Venom stays perfectly still, flattened to the inside of the lid. He might just look like a shadow, like the capsule is empty…

            Like they got out when the woman dropped the container…

            “Oh fuck!” the murderer gasps. The capsule is dropped. It lands with a hard thunk, rolls a little…

            “Where is it? Where the fuck did it go?” the man yells.

            “I don’t know! I didn’t even see it get out!”

            Venom pushes against the lid, which is a bit crooked from being dropped twice. It doesn’t need to open all the way – it doesn’t even need to open most of the way. All they need is a crack, a centimeter of open space to slide through.

            They push as hard as they can, bracing against the metal sides.

            Finally, there’s a satisfying pop.

            As they squirm out, they make a bee-line for their target, knowing exactly where they want to go…

            The woman shrieks a warning just as Venom grabs onto her ankle. But it’s too late. They dig into her, melting through her cells, traveling up veins and bones and eating everything in their path.

            She’s screaming, swiping at herself, trying to knock Venom off like a bug. But they’re already inside her. Inside her mind.

            Venom tears through her memories. Her name is Charlene – Charlie to her friends, of which she has very few. No family, no pets, not even a home. She’s an assassin, a freelancer, bought and paid for by the man – who’s gaping at her in horror as she convulses, choking as her body rejects symbiosis.

            She doesn’t know much about the man, other than he pay in cash. She had a job to do: sabotage Eddie Brock’s plane and be there when it goes down. Easy-peasy for a pro like her. Then, find Eddie Brock and capture the alien parasite living inside of him. Kill any witnesses.

            “What if he dies in the plane crash?” Charlene had asked.

            “He won’t,” the man told her at their first meeting. “The parasite will keep him alive.” Actually, Venom didn’t. It was sheer luck Eddie wasn’t killed on impact.

            And so, this woman might have been the one to put the bullet in Eddie, but her gun was paid for by this man.

            He’s also responsible for Eddie’s death.

            Once they’re done with Charlene—once she’s bleeding internally, thrashing on the ground, organs shredded, bones broken and empty—Venom takes their leave. The man tries to run, but Venom is fast.

They fly out of her like a bullet, planting onto the man’s face.

            He screams as Venom sinks inside.

            Oh! The man—Dr. Rupert Lindsay—used to work at the Life Foundation. He was a colleague of Carlton Drake, worked on some parts of the symbiote project…

            Apparently, he didn’t like that Eddie ruined everything. Wanted “his symbiote” back.

            Well, Venom growls inside the man’s head. Now you’ve got me…

It won’t take long for hotel management to find the bodies. Someone probably heard all that screaming and called the police. Doesn’t matter.

            Venom takes over the next person he sees – a young man with a suitcase heading into the hotel. He doesn’t even know Venom hitched a ride, much like Eddie didn’t at first.

            Venom can tell right off the bat that they’re not a perfect match, not even close. Pretty soon, he will start feeling sick, getting feverish…

            Venom doesn’t eat his organs. They’re full after the feast that was Charlene and Dr. Lindsay.

            Besides, Eddie wouldn’t like him hurting innocent people…

            But those two, they were bad people. Eddie said he was allowed to eat bad people. And they must be the worst people on the planet.

            Venom’s new ride checks in at front desk while V buries themself deep inside. Now that Eddie’s killers are dead…what do they do now?

            They haven’t thought this far ahead.

            Maybe go home? Find Annie and Dan. Yes. They don’t know Venom is alive, but they will know what to do…

            The TV above the front desk is set to the news. Venom’s temporary host is watching the screen while the clerk types his information into a computer. The male news anchor looks perturbed as he talks about a plane crash. Their plane crash, Venom quickly realizes.

            250 people dead, 47 injured in the hospital, had to be airlifted out with helicopters. 53 people are still missing so, the search continues.

The crash is considered to have occurred under “suspicious circumstances.”

They’ll never find the culprit. Or, at least, not all of her.

“According to the Chief of Police at the Salt Lake City Police Department, many of the people who were rescued and taken to hospitals have not yet been identified. If you have a loved one who was on flight 2490 headed to Philadelphia, please call the number below.”

“Jesus,” Venom’s host mutters under his breath. “Those poor people.”

The clerk hums in agreement without ever looking away from the computer. Dickhead.

On a whim, Venom urges their host to take out his cell phone, dial the number, listening as it rings—

Then hang up.

What’s the point? Eddie is dead. Venom saw him die.

Yet, it still doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t feel like their connection is gone. Venom still wants to go back to him…

Maybe they’ll always feel this way.

That night, while their temporary host sleeps, Venom lays awake.

            They should sleep. They’re exhausted – but they can’t.

            Slowly, they ease control over the new host, whose name Venom hasn’t  bothered to learn. Black tendrils seep over his arm, which slides along the hotel bed to the nightstand, where his phone is plugged in.

            The man never rouses while his arm is pulled along, scoops up the phone, and re-dials the number from the TV.

            “This is Salt Lake City emergency services, are you inquiring about flight 2490?”

            “Yes,” Venom makes his host mumble.

            “What name are you looking for?”

            “Eddie Brock.”

            There’s a short pause. “Edward Brock – yes, I have him right here. He’s been admitted to the University of Utah Hospital. Would you like the hospital’s phone number?”

            Hospital.

            But…hospitals are not for dead people. Right? Maybe dead people go there, but she did not say dead. She said “admitted.”

            “He is not dead?” Venom asks.

            “No, sir. I’m afraid I don’t have specifics on his condition, but as of this morning, he was admitted to the hospital.”

            He is not dead.

            Eddie is not dead.

            “Sir?”

            Venom hangs up. They wake their host, who sputters and looks confused, but goes along with Venom’s every command like a puppet on a string. The man is beginning to panic, the way Eddie did at first – but it doesn’t matter.

            Nothing else matters.

            They look up the hospital on the man’s phone, learn the address. Two hours away to the south.

            Their host is deteriorating physically. His fever is approximately in the low 101’s, Fahrenheit. Venom leaves him out of mercy, or maybe thanks.

            He screams when he sees the black ooze shoot out of his chest, splat onto the floor and dart toward the door. Venom is gone before he really starts freaking out. Gone down the hall toward the next room.

            They need a new host.

“Eddie, no,” Anne says firmly. She’s gently holding him, trying to keep him in bed even as he resists. “You’re in bad shape. You can’t just leave!”

            Dan is hovering behind her, looking nervous and antsy. He doesn’t have any authority in this hospital, but he’s trying to talk Eddie down. “She’s right, man. You have an infection, a fractured femur, dramatic blood loss – you are in no condition to be leaving that bed!”

            Eddie sits up, despite Anne’s fluttering hands. “You guys don’t understand! She took Venom! They’re out there somewhere, thinking I’m dead! I have to find them!”

            “And how are you gonna do that!” Anne demands, growing frustrated.

            “I don’t know!” Eddie says, voice breaking as he swings his stiff and aching legs off the bed. “All I know is I gotta get outta here first!”

            Anne turns and looks helplessly at Dan, some kind of silent pleading in her eyes. Dan sees it and appears to understand what she’s asking.

            “Eddie,” he says firmly. “I don’t want to do this, man, but if you try to leave, I’ll have the doctors sedate you.” He folds his arms and, at that moment, Eddie wants to punch him. Hard, right in his dumb face.

            “You don’t have that kind of authority here.”

            “Sure, I do. Doctor to doctor. They’ll listen to me.”

            And that leaves Eddie with a choice. Go anyway and risk Dan keeping his word, or laying down and letting Venom slip farther and farther away from him…

            It’s not much of a choice when you think of it that way.

            He looks Dan square in the eye and says, “What if it was Annie?”

            Dan blinks. “That’s—that’s different…”

            “No, it isn’t, man. Not to me.”

            They both look stunned. Stunned, but silent.

            Eddie pulls the IV needle out of his arm and stands up. Anne brought him fresh clothes from home; they’re in a bag on the chair behind her. He grabs them but before he can head to the bathroom to change, someone walks into the room.

            “Dr. Vines,” Dan says, shaking out of his reverie. “Hello.” He hurries over to shake his colleague’s hand—and maybe distract him from the fact that Eddie’s IV is out.

            But Dr. Vines doesn’t respond to his outstretched hand. In fact, he muscles past Dan and closes the door behind him.

            Eddie freezes, watching the imposing—yet surprisingly young—doctor stride toward him.

He stops just short, literal inches away. Eddie takes a step back and he can still smell the doctor’s mint gum on his breath. “Uh…”

Then—he morphs and Eddie stops breathing.

Black slime covers his skin, he grows a full six inches taller, eyes growing larger and longer and whiter—

“Oh, my God!” Anne exclaims.

Eddie’s sentiments exactly. He feels like he’s shaking – but he’s not even sure if he’s smiling. He can’t feel anything except for his pounding heart and the surge of HAPPY that shoots through him.

“Ho…holy shit…Venom!” Eddie’s voice breaks as he lunges, barely tall enough to kiss Venom’s lower lip – but it doesn’t matter. They stoop to fix the awkward angle.

Venom’s hands clasp Eddie’s biceps, creating three points for them to cross over as quickly as possible. Pretty soon, Eddie is making out with a total stranger, but he doesn’t care.

He feels warm. Symbiosis doesn’t make him sick anymore, it feels good now. Like he’s glowing.

Missed you, Eddie. Venom says in his head.

Eddie pulls away from the poor, confused doctor. “Missed you too, bud,” he says.

They all quietly escape from the hospital after that.

            Annie and Dan trail behind Eddie silently, exchanging wide-eyed looks, but saying nothing and certainly not trying to keep him in the hospital. With a good night’s rest, his wounds will be healed by morning.

            “How did you find me?” Eddie asks Venom as they half-limp down the bustling street.

            Will always find you, Eddie.

            That could be misconstrued as creepy if one is in the wrong mindset – fortunately, Eddie is not. He smiles at his symbiote’s mildly-threatening sense of sentiment, but that’s just how Venom is.

            “We gotta find the woman that did this, you know,” Eddie whispers to the ground.

            No need, Venom says darkly. She is dead.

            Eddie stops, face contorting. “What do you mean?”

            “Eddie, what’s wrong?” Anne asks. He holds up a finger, telling her to wait.

            Instead of trying to explain, Venom shares his memories of the truck, the hotel, eating the Charlene and Dr. Lindsay…their relationship with the Life Foundation…

            “Jesus,” Eddie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s why they were after us. They wanted you back – to continue Drake’s research.” A stab of protective anger bristles Eddie’s skin. Full offense to Carlton Drake, but his research was fucking stupid and only killed people and symbiotes. Goddamn ass-basket.

            Precisely.

            Eddie takes a breath to calm down. “Okay, so…what now?”

            Hungry.

            He recoils. “Jesus fuck—you just ate two people! How are you still hungry?”

            Just am.

            Eddie sighs and looks at Annie, who is probably never going to get used to this. “Hey, uh, do you guys mind if we get a bite to eat before we head home?”

            “Uh—no, no we don’t mind at all,” Dan says, uncertainly. “What, um, what do you want?”

            Mozzarella sticks and gummy bears!

            Eddie just sighs and looks apologetically at Annie and Dan.

            And no more planes.

            “Yeah, no worries,” Eddie says. “Definitely no more planes.”

            END