Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

A/N: To answer Lana Del Fae's question regarding who I envision as Evelyn March, I truly cannot say. I find it hard to envision faces for my characters. If anyone can find a face which matches the vague description of dark hair and green eyes for Evelyn, they would be welcome to put it in the comments.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Edit: 15.10.21

Chapter 14: Fractures

The food they received an hour or so after the doctor's visit made their stomach growl even louder than it had before. It wasn't much the guards slammed on a tray inside her cell before they promptly shut the door, but it was enough to keep them going for the time being. A few slices of bread and a good – heavenly – piece of chocolate. It may have not been much, but it felt good in comparison to many days's worth of almost nothing.

This human was already breaking down internally; one of her kidneys was already shrunken and her liver was starting to look tempting as well, albeit malnourished. For whatever reason, the symbiote experienced something akin to pity for the female host's state of being, primarily because it was its own doing which resulted in her misery. However, external factors were not to be excluded.

This "Carlton Drake" was not someone to be trifled with, not in this state. Perhaps, given another host, Venom could easily dismantle him from he stood; make him pay for the torture that they had to go through. It would be an easy thing to muster, considering how puny that human being was in comparison to the likes of its subordinates. This female's body was breaking down, but keeping on until it had another host in sight would be the wisest course of action.

"Are-Are you going to k-kill me?" the host asked stiffly.

"No," Venom replied solemnly. "For the time being."

"B-But am I g-g-going to die?"

"Possibly, unless we are given more sustenance shortly,"

"M-Maybe that doctor can give us something," she suggested hopefully, wrapping her arms around herself of warmth. "W-We could ask her again for something."

"The Doctor," it pondered thoughtfully. On multiple occasions had it considered her a plausible host, but it already assumed that it would not survive symbiosis. It was unlikely, considering how the rest of them had perished like flies. If the doctor died, then it would not be able to find another host. It would become too risky to attempt, even if given the opportunity.

All hosts were expendable, but the doctor was, perhaps, the only one of them who seemed reasonable. A broken human, there was no doubt about that, but nonetheless a cooperative one. Using her as a host would be risky in case she proved to be incompatible, but the chances were there should Venom ever consider them.

But if there was one thing to consider, it would be the state of Riot's mood if he ever saw them again. Their leader would not be pleased with this change of events if he were present to witness the state of captivity the rest of them were in. Phage was already gone, as far as Venom could sense. A particularly vicious fighter amongst them, strong and resilient, but they were no less excluded from the dangers of an atmosphere filled with oxygen than the rest.

Lasher was still alive, but trapped in a host who showed less potential than this one currently did. Their chances of survival weren't any better, it seemed, but the black symbiote couldn't care less about them. If the sorry sucker died, then that was it. Not to be mistaken, Lasher was far more lenient than the rest of Venom's brethren; they would even go as far as to admit that they liked the other symbiote to some extent, but what could be done if the odds were against them?

Not that it would last for long either way.

"M-Maybe we could ask her to give u-us some m-more," Maria repeated as though Venom had failed to acknowledge her previous words. However, it considered her proposition closely.

"Perhaps,"

Another thought surged through the host's brain, and Venom would be a fool to ignore it. Feelings of regret and sadness, with the image of a human child standing out like a sore thumb. For the past couple of days now, Venom had come to see that image more frequently, and if they were being frank, it was a little annoying sometimes.

What was the importance of it? Why did it mean so much to the host that she would continue to torture herself with those memories?

"A-Aliens like yourself," she started hesitantly, weighing her words. "Do you feel love?"

"We do not understand the concept of such," Venom answered. "Unlike humans, we do not require a partner in order to reproduce."

"But you w-would if you could, right?" she inquired pathetically. "There's joy in having someone to depend on."

"What is the point of this? You are thinking of your offspring."

"R-Reading my mind again, are you?"

"We share no secrets. We are one, for the time being."

"True," she sighed longingly. "I m-miss her. I w-want to see her."

"That is impossible," Venom coldly contradicted. "We are stuck here, and unless these incompetent wardens provide us with food soon, we will both perish."

"But I-I don't want to die,"

"You die, I die. I die, you die. That is how it is."

The female suddenly scoffed. "Bet you're fun at parties."

Venom decided that he much preferred her pathetic whimpering to the sass. They ignored her comment but found themselves puzzled by what she had previously mentioned. "But tell me what's it like."

She perked up. "What is like what?"

"Love. What is it like? We know it was a weakness, but somehow, it makes you more resilient. Why is that?"

"Y-You really don't know?" Her reply was sarcastic but equally bemused. She tucked her hands under her legs for warmth and started thinking. "It's to care fo-for something, far more than for yourself. Y-You wish to protect them," A smile stretched across her lips as she spoke of this. "You would sacrifice yourself for them if it meant that they would live."

"Sacrifice?" It questioned. "Why 'care' for something if it only brings you problems?"

"You kn-know about the trouble," she explained. "You will know it, but it doe- doesn't matter."

"But why?"

"I… honestly don't know," she said earnestly. "Love is … unpredictable. It can hurt you, but it w-will also cause you joy and happiness at the same time. Like eating the chocolate whilst savoring the flavor, I suppose." As she said the last part, she let out a laugh and covered her mouth.

All that Venom could think about was how unbelievable this species was.

Yet also ... fascinating.

"But also," she continued as she calmed down. "I s-s-suppose, like you, h-humans c-can't survive alone. Not entirely."

"You can't?" It asked with disbelief. "What if you have all the sustenance in the world?"

She shook her head. "It won't matter. Love, pain, sadness, those are all s-something everyone h-has to go through. If y-you choose to p-push them away, then you-you're not truly human, and you're not t-truly alive."

As Venom heard this, they began to ponder on the subject. It would not leave its mind, and soon enough, all focus on food and sustenance diminished. It was an occurrence which rarely – if ever – occurred.

For the Klyntar species, love and affection was hardly ever discussed, and if it were, it was considered a weakness. For humans, however, that was a different case. It was trouble, but trouble worth fighting for.

"How curious,"

Upon knocking on the door, the doctor waited. At first, there was a couple of seconds of silence, followed by the sound of light footsteps scurrying over towards the front door. A lock from the inside unlocked and a young, brown-haired girl with a tie in her hair opened up. She was considerably short, looking as though she was less than seven years old or so. The doctor found it hard to differentiate the age of children by looking at them, as it was significantly more challenging than doing so on an adult.

The little girl stared up at her but did not step out of that door. It was an intelligent trait witnessed amongst few children her age. "Daddy isn't home right now," she explained softly. "Are you his new girlfriend?"

Evelyn blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He gets a lot of them,"

Not interested in receiving more information regarding the young girl's father's nocturnal activities, Evelyn merely asked, "Are you Lily Nordstrom?"

"I am," said the girl affirmatively. "Who are you?"

"I have a letter from your mother," Evelyn reached her hand forward with the letter tucked between her thumb and index finger.

At the mention of this, the little girl's eyes widened with disbelief. "From mommy?" She took the letter with both of her hands and gazed at it, thoughtfully. "Do you know what it says? Where is she? Is she coming home soon?"

Evelyn had answers for all of her questions, but she could not provide the girl any of them. Instead, she insisted the girl read the letter. "It was for you,"

The girl looked at her for a brief second with wide, blue eyes, and then returned her attention to the unopened letter. Within a few seconds, she tore it open and her eyes scanned across the content. The moment her glass-like eyes froze, and tears visibly built themselves up in the corner of her eyes.

She began to rub her eyes as she started to whimper and sniff, trying to dry the tears away before they could fall. She failed, however, and they started to flow down her cheeks and drip to the floor. A few seconds had passed when she began to wail there in the doorstep, loud enough to wake the entire apartment-complex up unless she ceased.

What happened next occurred to Evelyn as particularly shocking.

Without a care, the little girl lunged at her and wrapped her arms around the doctor's waist, hugging her tightly as though letting go could cost her her life.

Evelyn, for a moment, instinctively tried to pry her off of her. The pain she had received from Treece which she had tried to remedy for the past couple of days returned and it subsequently prompted her to get the child as far away from her as possible. It wasn't because she was ignorant of the girl's feelings, but primarily because it was not the sort of contact she found common in her life. Close contact initiated attachment, and it was not the concept she found herself wanting.

She couldn't afford to deal with it, not when she was responsible for her tears.

But as she placed her hands on top of the girl's shoulders, her eyes fell on top of the words written on the letter which Ms. Nordstrom had handed to her. Just three words scribbled over the lines without anything else written at all. No names, no place, just three, simple words.

'I love you'

It was so brief, yet it was enough to warrant these sorts of … emotions? Was it sadness the girl was currently experiencing, or was it relief? Tears were usually an indication of pain or melancholy, but it had been... a long time since she was fluent in that language.

She couldn't understand it anymore.

The last time she had heard those words, it was from a person who was lying on his death-bed. Tubes and wires were attached to his skin, his face was gaunt, and it made him appear thrice as old as he actually was.

She had been standing by his bedside for longer than she would have cared to admit. Her parents had stepped out of the room, unable to face the inevitable before them, but she had stayed with him through all of it. Until the very end.

Despite all of the pain he had suffered, he had smiled at her with the most benevolent face she had ever seen. It was the sort of smile she never knew could ever graze a world as cruel as this one.

"No matter what happens," he had said to her. "I love you."

When he died, was she lost? Did she lose something on her own volition, or was it something that just came naturally? For so long, she had tried to shy away from that field in her memory, block it out through whatever means available. Drugs, alcohol, yet nothing quite worked the same way shying away from it altogether did.

Had Evelyn cried when she had watched him close his eyes for the final time, when she ended his suffering? She couldn't … quite recall.

Unexpectedly, instead of prying the child away from her as she had originally intended to, Evelyn put her arms over her and allowed her to cry into her waist. She could feel the tears stain her coat and the warmth resonates into her own being, a stark contrast to how she usually felt.

It was not much of comfort she could offer, but simply standing there, she was under the impression that the presence of someone else tended to relieve someone of the pain of being alone.

Alone …

It was hard to be alone sometimes...

After she left the run-down apartment-complex, there was a moment where Evelyn stopped to think. Despite herself, what happened earlier had somehow affected her. It affected her in a way she had become a stranger towards. To what degree? She could not specify it, but it was enough to make her reach for her cellphone and write down a number.

Evelyn hadn't called them in a long while, a couple of months give or take. Their conversations were usually one-sided anyway, as neither part knew what to offer. It had been a long time since she genuinely wished to call them, but whenever a semblance of courage filled her, the name that popped up on the screen sent her crumbling back from it.

Perhaps the thought came the fact that she had just seen a child mourn the absence of her mother? Neither of her own parents were in danger, or dead for that matter, so why didn't she… Why couldn't she do it?

The doctor stared down at the small screen where the numbers were displayed, along with the caption of 'Rose March'. Her thumb hovered over the green call-button with less than an inch. It would be so easy to press it, almost pathetically so, yet she couldn't bring herself to do it.

After everything she had been through, this seemed like the most challenging thing to do thus far; murder and unethical experimentations aside. Was this fear she was experiencing? She could not put a name on her inability to press a simple button, but there she stood, still and unmoving.

With an exhale through her nose, she shut her phone and placed it back into her pocket. If there were familial arrangements to be made, this was not the time, and she doubted she would ever get the chance again.

Privileged clothing and an uppity face, it didn't require a lot of effort in deducing who the woman was. Personally, Eddie could give less of a rat's ass about who she was as a person, but her demeanor resembled that of a porcelain doll. Cold to the touch but a beauty to behold. Had it not been for the fact that she was visibly glaring his way for no apparent reason, he might have offered her some of his time willingly.

Before he could ask her anything, she seized the moment and did so before he could.

"You are Edward Brock, the journalist," she stated without an ounce of uncertainty. "Is that correct?"

He frowned as she mentioned his name so formally. "Ex-journalist. Yeah, and? What's it to you?" A lot of people knew his name, both prior and post the scandal six months ago. It wouldn't surprise him if this shrew was yet another person who wished to reprimand him for the guts he showed in Charlton Drake's presence that day.

The woman either deliberately ignored his aloofness or simply didn't notice it. Without warning, she quickly grabbed him by his arm and dragged him to the other side of the shelf, causing him to yelp. As he ripped his arm out of her grip and prepared to yell at her to back the fuck off, he was startled upon seeing another woman standing beside her. He swore he had seen her someplace else, but he failed to recall where.

"And, you are?" he asked.

"He can't possibly be it," the woman who dragged him quickly interfered, arms crossed over her chest as she spoke. "We can't use him."

"What's this supposed to be? Human trafficking?" he asked snidely. "'cause, I gotta tell, half of my organs are shut down and not in my best state of mind right now."

"The vocal cords are easily susceptible to external penetration, so unless you keep quiet, I might render you permanently mute." The cold woman warned with a glare. "So do us all a favor and stay so voluntarily."

"I don't know about you, but I'm not really swayed with threats."

"Neither was Carlton Drake, as I'm sure you are already aware of it by now."

That comment did little if not anger him further. The last thing he needed to hear now was the name of the very same guy who had been responsible for ruining his life. As he opened his mouth to give that lady some backlash, the one with the glasses suddenly stepped towards him and handed him what seemed like a card with her contact information.

"My name is Dora Skirth," she gestured to the woman standing beside her. "This is my colleague, Evelyn March."

"My would-be killer or something?" he questioned sardonically and crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at the other woman.

"Killing you would require more effort than I'm willing to spend," the doctor replied indifferently before looking at her colleague. "I sincerely hope that you have thought this through. Mr. Brock isn't exactly renowned for his discretion."

"I know, but…" Dr. Skirth paused and turned back to Mr. Brock. "We need your help."

"Help?" he asked. "What kind of help?"

"It involves the Life Foundation," Dr. March answered firmly.

"It does?" His eyes widened.

"Yes."

"Wow, good for you. We're done."

And with that, he made a bolt for the entrance door, leaving the two doctors behind like a pair of abandoned pups.

Dr. March's eyes trailed over to the ecologist with a disinterested look, having already predicted the outcome before it arrived. "Meeting him here was a coincidence, but did you sincerely imagine that he would aid us, considering his past with the Foundation?"

But Dr. Skirth only let out a sigh before she chased after him out the door.

The ex-reporter was never one for jogging as a hobby, but after experiencing what it was like to have someone follow closely behind, he was seriously considering it.

"Mr. Brock, please listen to me," the four-eyed woman pleaded, but he didn't as much as bat an eye. "Everything that you accused him of, you were right. It's all true."

"I don't care anymore," he haphazardly responded with, hoping that it would shake her off him.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

"He's got a lab filled with poor people," she explained hurriedly as she scurried closer towards him. "And they're all signing waivers that they don't understand. He's using them like guinea pigs, and they are dying." Upon hearing that word, he finally stopped and faced her, needing affirmation as to know that he had not heard wrong.

"They are all dying."

"You've seen that?"

"Yes."

"There's been approximately eighteen people thus far who have been proclaimed deceased after the experiments,"

They both turned their heads around to spot the other doctor headed their way. "Their lives are trivial unless they don't perish," she explained. "That's what Drake seems to agree with. Your assistance might save a lot of lives."

"And why should I believe you?" he asked curtly.

"Because it's true," Dr. Skirth answered. "I believed in him, I told myself it was worth it because we were curing cancer, but now this is different. Something else." The fear was noted from a mile away, Eddie could not deny it. However, as much as she was afraid, he was skeptical.

"Go to the cops," he suggested.

"If the police become involved, it will only increase the amount of danger we will be in," Dr. March noted sharply with a stern face. "Consider the risk we are taking by simply speaking of this to anyone else. Drake is one of the most dangerous men in this city, and the amount of influence he has is consequential compared to that of the police force. That's why we arguably need someone with your skills."

"Yeah, I already know how dangerous he is, I knew that from the first interview I had with him." By now, the two of them were visibly glaring at one another. Although Dr. March found it much easier to conceal her displeasure, Eddie was by no means afraid to say shit like it was, or show it for that matter. "I lost my career, my relationship, my apartment. Carlton Drake ruined me, and took away everything I cared about."

"Considering how none of it would have happened if you had not lost your calm, or lack thereof, I would almost say that the blame is on yourse–" But before she could so casually finish and before Eddie was on the verge of doing something he would inevitably regret, Dr. Skirth pulled at her colleague's arm and ushered her to keep quiet. Surprisingly, the other doctor obliged.

But that was all Eddie needed to conclude the case. With the wave of his arms, he promptly stepped back. "Find yourself another knight in shining armor, 'cause I'm done with this shit of helping my fellow man. Good night."

And with that, he left.