Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

Edit: 15.10.21

Chapter 11: The Change

Several Hours Earlier

It was an odd request that Anne had received from Dan, but one she was nonetheless determined to see through. Therefore, as soon as she had ensured that Mr. Belvedere had been fed enough, she exited her home and drove over to the address which Dan had sent her over text.

It wasn't too far away from her home, which came as a relief. Only a twenty-minute drive and she was already there. It was a quiet neighborhood but occupied enough. The road had rows of houses on each side, and a few small playgrounds here and there for children to play. Much to Anne's lack of surprise, the majority of the homes seemed like they were inhibited by prominent figures in society; bureaucrats, medical experts, other notable occupations that acquired high salaries.

However, it did not strike her as particularly odd that Dan's associate, Dr. March of all people, lived in such a privileged neighborhood such as this one. Victorian-styled home, three floors at least, structured backgrounds ranging back several decades. It seemed like the ideal spot where a successful woman within the medical field would reside in.

Had she had more ambitions as a teenager, Anne herself might have pursued the same field herself. However, she was reclusive back in the days and had therefore decided that perhaps law did not seem like as much of a hassle as medical school did. A part of her regretted not testing her boundaries, but there was nothing wrong with her current occupation.

Well, except for the part where a certain ex decided it would be the perfect means to get his story into the headlines.

Anne shook her head dismissively and parked outside the house the address referred to. Much like the other homes, this one was not excluded within the category of prestigious houses, only that none of the lights inside were on. This could very well mean that the doctor was not home, but there was a black car parked not too far away on the property that could just as well be the doctor's. It was of the fancy kind of Mercedes, a black one which did not seem old. Another privilege with the wealthy life, no doubt.

The lamp-posts outside were Anne's only source of light as she turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. Her steps on the pavement into through the silent evening as she approached the door. Had it not been for the countless homes in the vicinity, she might not have imagined that this was actually a part of San Francisco. She had been living there for years now, even before she met…

But she could not imagine that a place that was a part of such a large city could actually be so soundless. Maybe that meant that silence was a privileged only the filthy rich could afford, which was about the only thing she envied them for. She was by no means far from that status herself, but the quiet had never been something she had been able to afford.

Before she took a step further, Anne pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was late, no doubt, about 10 in the evening. It would seem strange on her part to show up so late, but it could probably be excused if she was discreet about the purpose of her visit. Dan had expressed genuine worry upon asking that she tried checking it out and Anne had no reason to doubt that his intentions were good-natured.

Not to mention, she had met the oncologist sometime in the past, and would often encounter her in the hospitals whenever she waited for Dan's shift to conclude. The first time they had met had been at a medical conference Anne had accompanied Dan to during the beginning of their relationship.

It had been at the San Francisco City Hall, an annual gathering for every medical-associates in the city. She remembered Dan wearing one of those fancy tuxedoes he always loathed but endured nonetheless in order to appease to the crowd.

Anne, on the other hand, had worn something more simplistic but nonetheless decent in order to fit the occasion. A white-fabric sheath dress that reached her knees and a pair of heels to accommodate. Some of her mother's jewelry was also sparkling on her, but they were hardly as heavy as she imagined what some of the other women's necklaces were.

It had been a fun evening to enjoy, no doubt about that. People who could not help but share their achievements with someone as 'common' as herself, drinks and food were served around the place like charity, and there hardly seemed like there was anything to miss. A lot of Dan's associates were pleased to make her acquaintance, although few of them lingered longer than a few minutes with her before other matters and other people shifted their attention elsewhere.

She had never minded it. She had no yearn for being the center of attention, she never had even as a teenager either. However, at some point in the night, amidst all the chattering, the dancing, and the music playing in the background, Dan's focus had been turned elsewhere and Anne was pleased to see him enjoy the evening with his colleagues as well instead of having to stick by her side all night like he was glued to her. He deserved that sort of privilege, that sort of fun.

But that had still left her a wallflower by the end of the evening. Instead of joining the chatter, Anne had neatly poised herself near the food table for no other reason than to watch everyone else have a good time. A young bachelor had tried to ask her hand for a dance, but she had politely declined his offer. After giving her a glass of sparkling champagne, he left and Anne reassumed the role of the tedious wallflower.

Until she realized that she no longer stood alone by the table.

A few feet to her right, next to the plates of shrimps and other sea-food delicacies, a woman placed herself in front of the table with her arms crossed over her chest and a disinterested look in her eyes. The first thing that surprised Anne was the woman's lack of prestigious exterior appearance. Although she was by no means dressed poorly, she seemed more like she was dressed for business than an annual one such as this.

Alabaster-colored – but formal – shirt, a black knee-length skirt made undoubtedly of expensive fabric, t-strap high-heels that went just a few insignificant inches above the ground, and dark long hair that was kept in a low bun. No jewelry had been applied as far as she could tell, no significant amount of make-up either – quite dull, in fact – and most certainly not as extravagant as some of the other attendants had proven to be over the course of the party. It was almost as if she did not care about being there.

Without a word said or a move made, Anne reached the champagne glass up to her lips and prepared to take a sip, but something kept her from finishing the first one before a voice to the side spoke up.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you,"

Anne abruptly stopped what she was doing, wondering if the woman was talking to her. "I'm sorry,"

The other woman kept her eyes forward to the center of the room, seemingly not paying her any attention as she spoke.

"Rohypnol is an anesthetic drug that induces relaxation, weakening in the muscles, and partial or fully unconsciousness after a brief amount of time. If I were you, I would stay clear of any drinks Andrew Rusk might provide you with."

Without having even consumed the concoction in her drink, Anne felt a cough in her throat and quickly got it out. The drink spilled slightly onto the floor, but not enough to warrant any attention from the other attendants. They were far too occupied to notice anything out of the ordinary, which came both as a blessing and as a curse in disguise given the predicament.

She snapped her head to the woman, shocked. "H-How do you know that?"

For the first time, the woman turned to face her. But the eyes were… odd. Green, but with no life present in them. They were void, which seemed stupid to think, but that's the best description Anne could come up with at that moment she laid her own eyes on them.

The other woman narrowed her eyes Anne's glass. "There's a white pill in your drink that's dissolving as we speak," she explained, walking over to her. Without a word, she snatched the glass out of her grip without spilling a drop and held it in front of her.

True enough, there was something dissolving in the drink, but it was almost already dissolved by the time Anne laid her eyes on it. It could not compare to the feeling of dread that surged through her at the prospect of actually being drugged. She was no foreigner when it came to unwanted advances, but this was the first time someone had actually tried to take such drastic measures.

"A single milligram of the drug can last for hours and usually does not take long in order to induce effects," the woman explained like she was discussing the weather with her, though it sounded more like she was speaking to herself. "But Rusk is an intern, not qualified for prescribed drugs. It's also illegal to manufacture and be in the possession of Rohypnol in the states, so I'm curious as to how he got his hands on it in the first place, though I have my suspicions."

"How do you know it's Rohypnol?" Anne asked, eyeing the drink suspiciously and resisting the urge to throw it away. That's when she started to notice that the drink had a slightly changed hue as well. Instead of white, it had turned a bright blue. It could easily have remained undetectable because of the color the champagne, but it was still detectable when she squinted her eyes.

"It has a central blue color in the center, as you see. It's amongst one of the detectable attributes about the drug, other than the symptoms which follow shortly after ingestion."

Anne stayed silent, not knowing quite what to say. Her eyes lingered on the spiked drink before they rose to look at the woman. Her features were stoic and stern, but there were distinctive dark bags under her eyes which indicated someone who didn't sleep too well at night.

Her piercing attention must have caught the woman's attention, for her eyes suddenly flickered to Anne's.

Anne flinched slightly but stayed put. The other woman gaze seemed sharp, penetrating, but nonetheless harmless. It was not the sort of look you typically received from someone who intended to murder you on the spot, yet the attorney was willing to bet that malicious intent was not on her agenda.

But the looks they exchanged only lasted for a short second before the woman proceeded to incline her head towards Anne. "I will report this incident to the security guards and have Rusk escorted out of here. The police will become involved, and I would advice you to steer clear from any more drinks tonight."

"I … uhm … yes," Anne stuttered, not sure how to show her gratitude. "That would be for the best. Thank you, ms…"

"Evelyn! I'm glad to see that you came," Came Dan's voice from the crowd.

Both women snapped their heads towards the direction which he came from, watching him practically fight his way through the masses in order to get to them. After a bit of a struggle, he eventually prevailed and reached them. Placing an affectionate kiss on Anne's cheek (to which she flushed), he turned to the other woman and smiled.

"I was almost certain that you would not come this time either," he admitted, placing an arm around Anne's waist. "What changed your mind?"

"I had matters I needed to discuss with Dr. Renfield," the other woman, Evelyn, explained. "In regard to his intern."

"I see." He then gestured to Anne. "Evelyn, I want to introduce you to my – ehm – girlfriend, Anne Weying."

Anne could hardly blame him for being reluctant about saying the g-word aloud. They had only been dating for a couple of months, so the term was relatively new for both of them.

"Annie, meet Dr. Evelyn March; one of our best oncologists."

Anne promptly reached her hand forward. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. March."

The oncologist took it and shook it. "Likewise."

"I also wish to thank you for helping me,"

"It's not necessary."

Her crude answer surprised Anne, rendering her temporarily mute.

Dan, however, was in the dark. His eyes flickered between the two women, searching for an answer. "Help? With what?"

Dr. March's eyes flashed to Dan. "Dr. Lewis, do you recall the package that had been accidentally sent to Dr. Renfield?" she asked. "The one he delivered shortly afterwards to the police for suspicions of being part of a drug-exchange? Some of it was gone before the authorities arrived to collect it, correct?"

"Yeah? He reported that some of it were gone before he had been able to deliver i–"

"I have suspicions that the intern managed to steal an amount before it."

Dan blinked. "Rusk?" Dan's face was filled with shock and disbelief, almost as if he imagined that he was hearing wrong. "What makes you think that?"

On cue, Ms. March held the blue-colored drink up for him to see. "A drink with a pill of the illegal substance was given to Ms. Weying's by the intern a few minutes ago. I suspect his intentions were to take advantage of her." The way she spoke of the incident made it sound as though she was simply speaking facts unrelated to something as grave as this.

His face paling, Dan quickly snatched the drink from her hand and held it up to inspect it for himself. His face was written with worry and he quickly turned back to Anne and inspected her face. "Annie, are you alright? Did you drink any of it?"

But Anne shook her head, reassuring him of her stable condition. "No, I didn't. Dr. March figured it out before I could drink any."

Dan swiftly turned around to face his colleague and all but wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly as if asphyxiation was his plan. The look that Anne watched befall the oncologist was a mixture of annoyance and ... surprise, like she didn't quite know what to make of the gesture.

"Thank you so much, Evelyn. Really, you have no ide–"

"Don't thank me, Dr. Lewis," The oncologist said and moved out of her colleague's embrace, quicker than needed. "This incident will be reported, but keeping it subtle should be preferable for tonight. It would not give our hospital a positive reputation should it become public knowledge that one of our interns were involved with attempted drugging."

"I- Of course, but I'll tell people to keep their eyes open," Dan said, but promptly returned to Anne's side.

Dr. March then inclined her head to the both of them before she turned her heels and walked away, intending on retrieving the guards.

The evening ended with security escorting the young intern out of there, and he had put up quite a fight that stirred the crowd. It was quite a sight that the majority of the attendants witnessed, but after the predicament had passed, the rest of the night went on as usual with some increased superveilance.

After the commotion, a good number of the guests had already called it a night and gone home. So once again, Anne found herself standing by the food tables like before, but the only difference this time was that she had Dan by her side, and no drink in hand.

"Well, it has been an eventful day, don't you agree?" Anne asked with a sigh.

"I'm so sorry," Dan whispered and placed a hand on her shoulder, looking at her regretfully. "I should have been more careful and not left you alone."

"Hey," she said and placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting him. "It wasn't your fault. Besides, nothing happened." She put her hand on his face, caressing it lovingly. "Things went well thanks to Dr. March."

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, she's like that."

"Who is she, really?" she asked, genuinely curious for curiosity's sake.

He let out a sigh. "We're old friends, if you can call it that."

This perked her interest. "Just old friends?

His eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head, much to her amusement and confusion. "Not like that! I swear!"

Unable to contain herself, she let out a laugh at his reaction and shook her head reassuringly. "I'm joking, Dan. I'm joking." It was cute to see him flustered like that, even when he tried to hide it. "But seriously, though, you've known each other for long?"

"We both studied at Hopkins back in the days," Dan explained as soon as he was able to compose himself. "She's good at what she does, but she's also ... She's different,"

"Is that why she reminded me of a doll?" Anne asked playfully with no mockery intended.

"Actually, that's the best description anyone's been able to come up with so far. At the hospital, Evelyn's one of the best, but her name is also a noun."

"A noun?"

"I don't use it, but it's usually meant as … Uncivil." He scratched the back of his head. "She used to be more approachable, nice even, but she ... something changed back in the days, so she isn't the best at ... understanding people."

Anne couldn't understand the problem. "So? She helped me, didn't she?"

"She did, but it's most likely because there was something to gain out of it. As she said, the hospital would get a bad reputation if it became public knowledge that an intern attempted to drug someone at their conference, right?" Dan seemed increasingly frustrated, but not in an aggressive way. Instead, it was in a worried sort of gesture. "She saves people, but not because of personal interest."

"Aren't doctors supposed to be selfless? Isn't that in the job description?"

"It's not like she's corrupt who only does things for the coin," Dan contradicted with another sigh, leaning back into the table. "She … doesn't understand how to care for the patients, not anymore, or to put herself in their shoes. It's like… she doesn't understand how to it anymore."

Anymore?

His answer surprised Anne, but she nodded and pondered on those words. "When you work in a place that's filled with death and sorrow, perhaps that's why she's doing it?" she suggested. "Getting too attach to someone in that job might become … painful if the odds are against you on the table. It's simply just her way of making due."

But something about the look Dan had in his eyes suggested that he knew more than he was letting on, but he kept it to himself and flashed her another one of his signature smiles, one that warmed her chest like an oven.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he agreed. "But maybe we better get home as well. I'll drive you."

Though their initial counter had been brief, as had every encounter since then, Anne respected the woman whose skills allowed her to get unscathed out of a troublesome situation. The thought somehow eased the tension as Anne went over to the entrance-door and knocked a couple of times.

At first, there was silence. In fact, that was the only thing she heard. No footsteps inside, no lights turning on, no nothing. Either she had failed to knock hard enough, or the place really was empty of life.

Clenching her fist again, she proceeded to knock a few more times, harder this time. Her knuckles began to ache, and the impact left lingering traces of dry skin on top.

Still nothing.

It struck her as strange, because if there was a car outside, then there ought to be someone inside.

But then again, it was late in the evening, and she could not simply barge in like she owned the place. For an attorney, that would be far from the ideal sort of way to go. She shook her head and shrugged. "Well, that sucks."

There was no point in lingering about, especially not late in the evening. Either Ms. March was busy with something else like family matters, or she simply wasn't feeling well. A message might have been preferred if the latter was correct, but it was something that would have to wait.

But as Anne turned around, she noticed something odd behind her. The black car she had seen earlier suddenly turned on, temporarily blinding her. She held up her arms in an attempt to shield her eyes, but once the lights were gone, so was the car. It echoed down the street until it was out of range to be heard.

"Wait," She blinked. "That wasn't Ms. March's car?"

If it wasn't Ms. March's, whose was it?

She slammed the reports on the table in front of Dr. Skirth, who flinched upon seeing the faint streaks of blood the younger doctor's face.

"Dr. March, what happene–"

"The patient's condition has improved upon being fed with phenethylamine." The oncologist stated firmly, evidently indifferent to her own physical well-being. "Ms. Nordstrom's heartbeat decreased, she responded significantly better to physical assessments, and it seems to keep the symbiote in a docile state."

Of course, she had taken precautions prior to checking the patient's status. With the Guard's weapon aimed at Ms. Nordstrom, Evelyn had warned her that if any boundaries were crossed, permanent incapacitation would be necessary. For whatever reason, the patient had complied. Nothing had happened over the course of the assessment, which came as a significant surprise to her.

Dr. Skirth's eyes fell over the papers in front of her and she hesitantly reached for them, but a hand fell on top of them before she could even graze them. A loud sound vibrated through the room and the ecologist snapped her eyes up to Drake.

The CEO swiped the reports over to his side of the table, and his eyes grew wide with mirth upon reading the reports. "This is exceptional," he breathed, holding the papers in front of him. "We'll give them a daily dose of this if they improve."

"Daily sustenance, in general, is required," Dr. March pointed out.

"O-Of course, but this is–" His eyes flickered over to the doctor who had made the assessment, but something kept him from saying what he had initially wanted to. The traces of blood on her white lab-coat and the streaks of faint red on her lips caught his attention.

He lowered the papers and took a step towards her, reached for something in his pockets, and then proceeded to pull out a white handkerchief with the Life Foundation insignia on it.

Evelyn said nothing. The pain in her abdomen had ceased by now, but she didn't doubt that a closer inspection was required if she wished to ensure silence from her colleagues in the following days. The last thing that was preferable was bothersome inquiries from the likes of Dr. Lambert or Dr. Lewis. The latter would undoubtedly question her absence out of worry, but the former would question it purely due to her lack of interest in his attempt at courtship.

"Dr. March, were you attacked by the volunteer?" Mr. Drake asked, but there was no hint of any worry in his tone, on his facial features. Typical signs of the sentiment were quirked brows, wavering tones; more apparent signs than subtle ones. Mr. Drake was, however, showing none of the sorts. His face remained neutral, his stature was firm and solid, and his stance indicated that nothing was amiss.

The doctor shook her head at this assumption and did not take the handkerchief. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone claimed the silence before she could.

"It was T790129 who did it, Sir."

Mr. Drake and Dr. Skirth both turned their heads towards the direction the voice came from whereas Evelyn attention her forward. Heavy footsteps echoed in the laboratory as Treece entered. There was a smug change on his face, one that both the CEO and the ecologist were too familiar with after years of working with him.

The doctor did not respond even as the security guard placed himself within a few inches of her. The scent tobacco and smoke reached her nostrils even before he got too close, but she did not grant him the privilege of looking at him.

Treece merely smirked. "T790129 tried to merge itself with the doc during the assessment, but we were able to interfere and keep it from doing any more bodily harm, sir. The situation was handled, and you got your results, as expected." The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and it could have easily been mistaken for arrogance, though they were one and the same either way. It came as a surprise to no one that he was this cocky, but the fury that befell the CEO did.

Mr. Drake's eyebrows lowered to an unimaginable point and his teeth gritted themselves together so tightly it seemed as though he was about to break them. His fingers clenched themselves around the papers he was holding – crumbling them – and both Treece and Dr. Skirth reacted by taking steps back from their boss.

The next thing anything knew, he took an aggressive step forward and flew into an unpredictable rage. "You allowed it to touch her?!" he demanded, finger on the verge of poking Treece in the eye. "You were not supposed to leave even during the assessment, Treece! What if it had merged with her and killed her? We would have lost one of our own! I am willing to make sacrifices, but not like thi–"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Drake." Evelyn interrupted him, her calm a stark contrast to the CEO's rage. To her, stating the obvious was not a difficult challenge to overcome. Threats also did little to move her, even if she did spot the vague glare was aimed at her from Treece.

Unfazed by this, she shifted her head around to face both the men in the room, but particularly the man whose scalp lacked the adequate amount of hair. "It was not the volunteer that attacked me, nor the symbiote. It was Treece."

Treece scoffed, but sweat was starting to gather on his forehead. "She's doesn't know what she's talking about."

Mr. Drake moved to the side and Treece practically forced his way around and over to the doctor. The smug grin on his face was still there, but its presence felt threatened. His steps were heavier than usual, which usually indicated that either he was deliberately putting pressure on himself in order to appear larger for imitation, or he was carrying some heavy-arms that were well-concealed beneath the fabric of his clothes.

The doctor did not move out of the way, although she was quite certain that this could as well result in another – more severe – injury. Needless to say, there she was not afraid in the slightest. Even as the Head of Security placed himself an inch or so in front of her, nothing changed.

He was just a man.

She had encountered worse monsters than him.

"The doctor's simply confused," Treece continued without taking his eyes off her, adamant to keep his charade spot-on. "The got her in the back of her head when she wasn't looking. Caused her a bit of panic, I'm afraid. She's not thinking straight–"

"Treece,"

The sound of Mr. Drake's collected voice seemed to spark something with the security guard. His smile vanished entirely, his eyes doubled in size, and he hardly seemed able to muster the strength to turn around and look.

"Dr. Skirth, be kind and drive Dr. March home. You can take the night off."

A firm grip was placed on top of Treece's shoulder from behind.

"I wish to have a private conversation with Treece."

The street lights flashed past them outside the car, but Evelyn was barely able to notice them as her eyes consistently closed for each time they passed a new one. The car-ride was quiet, but as she occasionally glanced over at the ecologist on the side, she did not let the sight of the older woman's tight fingers on the wheel go unnoticed.

"Are you going to be alright?" Dr. Skirth finally asked. "You were hurt. Badly."

"I doubt this is serious. I would know if it was," Evelyn said. "It will heal naturally over the course of a few weeks on its own."

"I am sorry for the things you saw today," The ecologist breathed, as though she had been holding her breath for quite a while. "But you are aware that Mr. Drake is not going to let you leave after everything you have seen, right?"

"I'm not an idiot, if that's what you're indicating," Evelyn responded. "But I haven't signed anything yet, so this deal between us is not legally binding."

"Is any of this legal?" The older woman suddenly hiccuped, on the verge of spilling with tears. She contained her outburst just barely and had to cover her mouth in order to keep the sound of her whimpering inaudible. She failed, however. "None of this is right. We weren't supposed to proceed this quickly with human experimentations. Only when we were certain that this would work were we supposed to…"

She let out a sigh, and subsequently returned both of her hands to the wheel, but not before drying a tear away from her cheek with the hem of her sleeve. "Mr. Drake, he's- uhm … he's no longer the same man. These symbiotes – these things – they have changed him. They have made him … different."

"Has he ever been exposed to one?" Evelyn asked.

"No, never."

"Then the chances of them being involuntarily responsible are low. He hasn't changed,"

There was a period of silence in the car again, until they finally reached the city. Judging by the numbers displayed on the clock, it was well beyond late. Even though San Francisco was a large city, it never failed to intrigue her how loud and bright it tended to be in the evening.

"Look," Dr. Skirth said. "I'm sorry I ever got you involved in this. If I knew it would turn out like this, then I wouldn't have …"

"Don't dwell on regrets, Dr. Skirth. My consequences are mine alone."

There was a tight feeling in her chest.

She did not know what it was.

And not even a small dose of Rohypnol could make it go away.

A/N: Kudos to those who manage to find the House M.D and Sherlock references I scatter around the chapters ;)

Edit: Andrew Campbell, the intern's name, was changed to Andrew Rusk instead to avoid mixing him up with nurse Campbell, who was mentioned in a previous chapter.