In Which Things Get Sober

Catherine knew the guy was following her down the street.

It only took one glance behind her to verify that it was true.

He was laughing with a friend, sharing the cigarette. His white hand flashed in the night as he took a drag of it. They were mid twenties, young enough to be dumb, strong enough to be dangerous. Maybe they were on their way to slip into a late night bar.

They didn't.

The city was dark. Her pace picked up. She had tried to got to Stark staff afterparty to lighten up a little or some bullshit like that. It hadn't worked. She had made through the door. Then she saw the people and turned around immediately.

Her subway station was four blocks away. All the shops were closed now.

She shook her head as she realized that her fingers had drifted to either side of her watch. She pulled them back.

She didn't need it. The watch was equipped with an alarm system. After Andy, if the people behind him ever went after her again, she could push the two buttons and Tony's phone and FRIDAY would be notified exactly where she was.

She wasn't in danger right now.

The men laughed at a joke behind her.

Once she was at the station there would be cameras.

She walked for a few blocks. They hovered after her. Their voices scraped against her. She walked a little faster. They matched it.

Something rose in her throat. She didn't need this right now. After everything with Peter, she needed a little break. The kid was more relaxed but it was at a personal cost. Now he was always on her mind and his text earlier in the day that he still had to make up with May bothered her.

The party was supposed to fix that problem. It didn't.

"You alright ma'am?"

She nearly jumped into traffic.

Spider-Man sat on a sign up ahead, casual in his suit with his legs swinging. The white eyes weren't fixed on her.

"I'm fine." She pulled her jacket closer and walked under the sign. "Just heading home. Go to bed. It's late."

"Yeah…it's actually a little early for that." He slipped off, dropping down next to her. She stopped. He turned to face the guys behind her. "Hey fellas!"

"Hey Spider-Man," One of them shouted back and gave a half-hearted wave. The one that had looked at her stayed quiet.

"My doctor told me that going to bed early is good for your health. Go to bed," He yelled and then turned back to Catherine. She gave a chuckle hoping the New York signs covered it.

"I've got a lot on my mind. Can I walk with you?"

Catherine didn't respond. She wasn't taking pity tonight but she couldn't she refuse the help. Instead she turned back towards the station and started back down the street.

"Cool, cool." Spider-Man tagged next to her side. "So I still didn't thank you."

"I believe that you've thanked me four times in two days." She looked over her shoulder. The men were gone and she couldn't help the little smile that was on her face.

He saluted at a group of students across the street but his attention was still firmly on her. "Oh maybe but thanks again."

"What neighborly things have you been up to?"

"Oh you know, the usual." He drawled vaguely.

"Hmmm."

She studied him for a second. "When did you get a suit upgrade? It looks different on you." The suit was darker in the dim light.

"Yeah," he pulled on the fabric, "this one is stealthier."

"Stealthier?"

His eyes snapped into focus on her. "Something is different about you too."

"I'm still the same person." She almost put a 'Peter' on the end of her sentence but even in the emptiness of the street she didn't feel it was safe enough.

"Did you get a haircut?"

"No."

She felt her pace pick up again.

"New contacts?"

He matched it.

"How would you be able to see that?"

"I dunno."

"Are you done invading my privacy?"

"No, no, no…" He looked a bit closer and the computer buzz in his ear. "Wait. You're wearing makeup?"

"Congratulations, you cracked the code." She felt her cheeks rush a little red. "Don't think I didn't notice that you used your suit to figure that out."

It was just a little makeup. Something that made her look like she didn't work a 50-60 hour work week. She didn't bother when she was at Stark's. Something about the possibility of blood, jet fuel and other fluids phewing in her face stopped that urge. Call it practical.

"It looks nice?"

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"A statement. You look nice."

"Thanks."

"I'm been thinking about MJ." He reached out and idly swung around a street pole as if the ground wasn't entertaining enough. She left him behind as he did another rotation.

The streets were quiet so that he could say it without much concern. The fear melted in her back. She hated that Peter had to be here to have that go away.

"I've been thinking that if I phrase it right, she'll come to the party." He jogged up to join her. "You know? No snob needed. It'll be alright."

Catherine squinted at him. There was confidence…about MJ?

"And how will you do that?"

He paused as they entered into the subway station. A few people looked up as they entered and only one stared for a moment longer. Peter looked like a kid all dressed up enthusiastically heading home. What did that make her? His mom? A concerned older friend?

The subway cars pulled up. They walked down to an empty one. The heat inside the cab pricked the back of her neck. The cheery voice told them to stand clear of the closing doors and then they pulled away into darkness.

"I think if I say I have a ticket and that I want her to go as a friend…" There he was, the Peter that thought too hard for a moment, then it disappeared under Spider-Man. "It'll work out? As long as it isn't a date. You know. It'll be great."

"Don't you think that Ned will be jealous?" She smiled.

"Oh no. He's on board as long as I get Tony to sign his Iron Man poster someday. He's good that way." He popped a foot on his knee and sprawled across the plastic seat.

"Right…"

The trip was easy and simple as they got to her apartment. MJ fell off the table for a math test he was worried about which was replaced by some thieves that were making a habit of leaving small empty boxes gift wrapped at their marks.

The mindless chatter continued out of the subway and the few blocks to her apartment. As they came up to her block, he paused at the edge.

"I can't go much further Miss. We shouldn't be seen in the same places."

She paused and nodded. "That makes sense."

The city had quieted around them.

"I wanted to say I think Ed might be into you from your art class. You should go on a date."

It took her a second to remember that was Doofus' real name.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that."

The mechanical eyes went wide and he leaned forward. "Really? Were you on that date? How did it go?"

"No but he asked me after our next class together." She laughed at herself and at the night.

"What did you say?"

A couple walked by. They looked at Peter several times, trying to figure out if he was the real one. Since they didn't stop, they must have decided against it.

"I told him he was a nice guy but no."

"That's harsh."

"He's a grown man and I did thank him for the offer."

"But still."

"Look, you've got to learn this. If I had given him some nicety he would have hung on for months and I'm in no place for stalking. It's like an amputation. Do it and get it over with."

"Oh." It was empty sound. "If MJ says no to the party, does that mean…?"

"Just ask her, kid." She pulled her keys out. "I can go the rest of the way. Have a good night Spider-Man."

"Right! Have a good night random citizen." She heard the web hiss through the air and off he went into the night.

Something pulled at her stomach so she shouted after him. "Don't get in trouble."

"I will!" was the faint response.

The keys jangled in her hand as she went back to the apartment. He slipped into the night, blending into the semi-darkness.

It was a few days later when shit hit the fan.

The TV buzzed in the background as Catherine finished her second glass of wine. The day had been long. Tony had been even more stressed out about the engagement than usual and being the stellar employer he was, he got it all over everyone. She closed her eyes against that stress. Nobody needed anything like that.

The TV show was trash. It was one of those realty shows that everyone loved to hate. She saw the pattern in the episodes, the way the characters did the same thing over and over again not realizing the real problem. She tuned it out constantly and missed nothing.

A thunk woke her up out of her almost meditation. It sounded as if a bird had hit her window but it was almost 11 at night. Her eye slid over to her closed windows. Was she going to bother looking? Another thud followed by rapid knocking got her moving across her living room.

The blinds opened to show a Spider-Man clinging wildly outside her window. His toes stuck to her window and one hand grasped his side, the other pressing against the glass smudging more bloody hand prints against it.

"What?" She asked in shock at the sight, glass still in her hand.

Spider-Man shouldn't be outside her window. Peter shouldn't be here either. They were supposed to be at home behaving themselves.

The knocking shook her out of it. She ripped the latch open and the kid rolled onto the floor with a cry. He ripped the mask off immediately. Smudges of blood drew down his cheek. He gasped.

"What happened Peter?" She wished she had turned on the lights in her apartment. The kid was dark against the ground.

"It hurts so much."

No time for emotions, she knew that.

"Where does it hurt?"

His hands told her. One held onto his stomach and the other his side. Two wounds. Maybe an inch or two long each. The puncture wounds were deep by the amount of bleeding. Peter had been stabbed twice.

She grasped one of the two couch pillows she owned and pressed it hard into his stomach. "Hold this."

"They were stealing. I had to stop them right?" There were tears in his eyes as he stumbled over his own words. "The knives. I don't know where they came from. Then I dunno then they were gone but I was bleeding everywhere. I didn't know what to do."

"You did the right thing."

He nodded. His fingers dug into the pillow.

It could have been a trap from the drug cartel a remote part of her mused. Ignoring that unhelpful piece of information, she stretched him out on the floor. She scrambled up. Her shoes slipped against the wood. It was slick.

The kitchen held some rags and then she got her first aid kit.

She needed to get him to Stark Industries or the hospital. She swallowed and brought the kit back. She needed to get him stable enough to move. Then there was the problem of the people around her, the neighbors, Robert, everyone with brains and eyes. Enough Peter and Spider-Man intermixing and people would put it together.

Not a priority.

"Aunt May is going to kill me." He hadn't moved. A couple tears were carving through the blood on his face. The healing must be doing little to nothing. Strange.

"We've got to get you to the hospital." She pressed on the spider symbol on his chest. The suit didn't release.

He shook his head. "No hospitals, please."

"No arguments. This is pretty bad Peter. The wounds are deep. Your organs have probably been pierced. Remember when you joked with me about internal bleeding? Kid, you've got it." She pressed her hands into the pillow, trying to keep him together. The suit button wasn't working. If the suit was malfunctioning, she would have to try to use a scissors and try to cut it. Would scissors even cut such a tough fabric? Her kitchen shears maybe?

The voice was different as it stopped her thoughts, almost as cold as steel.

"Promise me no hospitals. I can't go there. I can't be in there again."

Catherine looked at Peter sharply.

He was still, now focused completely on her. Fear was gone in his face. Instead something close to strength was in his eyes. It was so powerful that Catherine rolled back on her heels. Her hands withdrew and rested on her knees.

This was not the kid she knew.

"What are you talking about?" The words were careful. "What's going on?"

As if there wasn't a life threatening wound in his stomach, he started to sit up. "I thought you would help me."

Now the anger rose in her chest. "Is this a joke? Are you kidding me? I am trying to help you."

"It isn't. You can't take me there." He grasped one her slick hands in his. She didn't pull away. "Things have been a bit better lately even though Aunt May isn't on board. I'm feeling so much better with it. Please, I can't risk it."

"Risk what?" She heard herself ask the question but she was frozen.

The anger collapsed in her chest. There was something wrong, worse than a gaping hole in the stomach. It was in his eyes. A longing, a look that was a distant fixation on something that only he could see. Peter was looking past her, through her eyes, through her skull, to whatever he wanted that he didn't have.

His fingers clasped hers tighter and then released.

"I trust you Ms. Catherine. So let me show you. Then you'll understand, you know?" A half smile was on his face, one side pulled up like she had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. The Peter she knew almost came back to the surface.

Her mouth was dry.

"Don't freak, okay?"

She didn't know what she was seeing. The ripple was almost imperceptible at first against the blackness of the new suit. It turned into a growth, a muscle that flexed and overlaid the skinny kid's arms and body. She saw the dark seep into the wounds, stopping them as well as her bandages would.

Then it came over his face like a wave. She would have thought he had put back on the mask had the mask not been behind Peter, bloody and alone on the ground. Then the shapes of the eyes were wrong, pulled back further, the edges a ragged white.

A mouth cut open. Raw teeth clicked against each other as it spoke.

"See?" It said, "We are one. We help each other. We are Venom."

Well. The true game is finally afoot.

You've probably got some questions. I'll answer some of them next week. Some of them will be answered in other, more bloody, ways.

Here is my question for you: What do you think? Did you see Venom coming?

Thank you for all the favorites and love lately. It really helps me.

Thank you for reading as always. - Quin