Chapter 3
You don't particularly like your trips to the hospital after bigger fights. They were rare, considering nothing like Venom has ever happened before, but on the off-chance that you were forced to go when you couldn’t get away from the scene quick enough, it was always a production to you.
You had to be taken to one of the best hospitals in the state via helicopter in order to get there as quick as possible, you had the exact same people working on your broken body every time, and police were always there guarding the inside and outside of the room. All in all, it was actually very considerate of the city to provide you with this, but it was exhausting when all you wanted to do was get fixed up and get out. Then there was always the anxiety of the staff knowing your face and having the power to reveal it to the world, no matter how well trusted they were claimed to be, and the constant pang of guilt because of all the special treatment you received.
You remember when you first passed out after your first big fight. You woke up, groggy with blurry vision, and with the bright lights in your face you thought you were surrounded by cameras. You heard your name- your hero name- and your response was to wave above you, although your movements were sluggish as you did. Your words were slurring as you tried to reassure the people around you, “Don’t worry everyone, Spider-Woman is a-okay!” Your hand came into focus as your eyes started to clear up, and instead of the familiar red and black of your suit, you saw skin. You raised your other hand in front of our face and saw the same thing: your arm bare of your suit. You shot up to your feet, gripping your head when pain shot through it, bringing your vision back into the blurry state it had just cleared itself of. You felt your hair, the skin on your face, and it was evident that your mask was gone too. You heard voices all around you, muffled but obviously urging you for something; maybe to stay calm, maybe to pick your head up for everyone to get a good look at you.
“Where's-” you fell to your knees when a terrible ringing shot through your skull, every part of you screaming in pain, “where's my mask? Please get the cameras off and give me back my mask- shit!” There were hands on you, on your arms, pulling you up and dragging you back. You trashed against them, but everytime you were free they were back again, dragging you until you felt the back of your legs hit something, and you were gently lowered until you sat. You felt the plushness of a bed, and in your confusion you stopped thrashing. Last time you checked, you were in the street after getting caught in a bombing.
The voices around you were starting to becoming more clear, but you still could only pick up a few words.
“Spider-Woman...hospital…”
“Hospital? I-I'm in a hospital?” You were shaking still, struggling to breathe. “I can’t see, I can't hear-” but you could hear. You could hear a beeping coming from right next your bed, and as your heart raced, the sound kept up pace.
‘Another bomb.’
Your webs went in the direction of the sound, and you caught something before your arms were held down again, snapping your webbing from your wrists.
“It's a bomb!” You shrieked and pleaded for them to let you go, to escape before it went off. You managed to break out of their grasp once more, and before they could get to you again, you jumped up and managed to get a hand on the ceiling, pulling yourself up until both your hands and your feet were attached. There's more shouting from under you, but all you can hear clearly is the beeping. You knew where it was coming from, but your body wouldn't cooperate with moving towards the sound. You could hear yourself moving away from it as you crawled around on the ceiling. Your were sure you heard someone yell directly under you, and you started waving your arm at them, urging them to run while there was still time left. You felt them grab your arm, and in your struggle to pull yourself away from them, you lost your grip and fell to the floor.
‘What’s wrong with everyone?’ you had thought to yourself. ‘Why aren’t they running?’
You had barely been on the ground for a second before something soft engulfed you, and you were back to screaming and thrashing, once again being dragged to the bed. This time, you heard the tell-tale rip of velcro restraint straps, along with the beeping getting faster and louder as you got closer. The sheet they had wrapped you in was ripped away as suddenly as it had covered you, and you were strapped down. Not a second later, you felt a sting in your neck, and just like that, the world started to go quiet again. Your vision went from blurry to dark, and your voice died out.
The beeping slowed.
Since that first visit, the only good thing you felt about the hospital was knowing you were going to be taken care of and would be able to get back to work in no time.
Since you only visited by force, whether it was because you passed out or you were too weak to move far- the team of officers who took you the first time being the ones called in to drag you back again- it took you awhile before you actually got to know the name of the place: Lionheart Hospital. From what you could see from the helicopter whenever you were conscious, it was in a pretty remote area, but nevertheless, it was still a hospital; an advanced hospital at that. Part of the special treatment was top-of-the-line, not yet out to the general public medicine and machines and treatments that either you or the richest of the world saw, and that fact alone sent one of the many pangs of guilt through your chest. If you ever brought it up with the staff, they assured you that they were working very hard to make themselves more accessible to the common world, but you never heard anything about it outside of your questioning- nothing in the newspapers, online, or the news. You’ve heard of them doing the basic charity work and about all of their advancements, but aside from that, there wasn’t much news about them that wasn't either praising them for their work or the few pieces that try to tear them down because of how disengaged they were from the public despite all the good they could be doing.
All of this runs through your head as you now lay in your hospital bed, unrestrained this time. Your twiddle with your fingers, staring up at the ceiling, and your mind drifts from one guilty thought to another, until you're thinking about the way you felt during your fight from earlier. With the adrenaline gone from your body, you scoff at yourself for it. People could have died under your watch, and all you could think about was how cool it was to be fighting something other than another robber or common criminal.
‘Must've been really cool when it threw me hard enough to land me in the hospital,’ you think to yourself, rolling your eyes. You huffed out a breath through your nose and close your eyes, snuggling back into the pillows you laid upon and trying to fall back asleep while you had this opportunity to do so, but all you can think about was the fight. No, that's not right; all you could think about was Venom. The way it honestly did feel really cool to be fighting it, but also the way your jokes and teasing seemed to roll off the tongue just a little easier, and how you couldn't help but feel grateful and even happy that it stepped up and helped you with the hostages at the end. You start to think about how the two of you might have even been flirting but immediately beat that thought away by slamming your head back into the pillows a few times. When you're done with that, you hear the door open, and then your doctor's head pops into view through the curtains protecting you from prying eyes. Anyone who wasn't part of your medical team who tried to get a look at you helped you with agility and target practice with your webs, seeing as you either jumped out of sight or blindfolded them with webs.
“I see my favorite Jane Doe is awake. How are you feeling today, Spidey?”
“A lot better than I should, all things considering.” You gesture towards your torso and the bandaging hidden away under your hospital gown. You were sore at the very least, but most of the pain was gone. “I have you and the team to thank for that.”
“And we have you to thank for stopping that robbery.” She sits on the bed, clipboard in hand and from the look on her face, you can tell she's dying to ask you all about it, but you hold up your hand, shaking your head ever so slightly.
“You'll read all about it the papers, Dr. Penmark. Speaking of which..” on cue, a newspaper flies up into view from behind your curtains, and you snatch it from the air with your webs, snapping it open the moment it's in your hands. Despite everything it said about you, you couldn’t go without your daily dose of The Daily Bugle. Today’s title was “Call the Exterminator! Get Rid of the Spider!”, and you’re already making up a list of what tomorrow’s paper could read. “What could rhyme with Venom?” She’s silent, and you flip the top of the paper down to look at her. It looks like she’s staring at your hands, but you know better; she’s staring at your wrists, captivated by the webs you can shoot from them, and all the other powers that lie within your body.
That’s another thing you hate about this place: any one of these people could turn and experiment on and examine you at any time, just because they got a little too curious about you. In a perfect world, they wouldn’t know your face and would just fix you up and let you go on about your day, and you would feel just that much safer here, but this wasn’t a perfect world. You snap the newspaper back upright, snuggling back into your pillows again, feeling her eyes burn through the paper and onto you. “See something you like, Doc?”
She clears her throat and you feel her shift a little. “Maybe. We're getting your uniform cleaned up, and then you'll be ready to go. I just wanted to check up on you before you swing off.” There's a pause, and from the movement of her voice and the way the bed dips in odd places, you think she's laid down and prop herself up on her elbows. “So, you're calling that thing Venom?”
“That's what they called themselves.” You close the paper. There's no point in keeping her in suspense til tomorrow. “It's like there's a guy, and whatever is attached to him. I saw the inside of its mouth and I don't think it's a suit. Maybe some kind of mutant or alien, but it talked like they were two separate beings- it said ‘we’ and when it showed me it’s “host” I saw a person inside of it.”
“So, like a parasite?”
“Maybe” There’s silence and it looks like she’s satisfied for now. She gets off of the bed, straightening out her clothes and giving you a smile on her way towards the curtain.
“Well, I suppose you will certainly tell the papers more, but I should let you know that there are some videos out already.”
“I figured that much.” She's just about to step out when an idea pops into your mind. “Hey, Doc.” She turns back towards you, and you shoot a bit of webbing into your hand and start on a pattern.
You'd be lying if you said that becoming a hero didn't make you a little cocky. You had to admit that despite all your anxieties, it was nice to have a place where you could shoot someone a grin and watch them swoon over you without looking like a weirdo. In public you had to stop yourself from doing that whenever you heard people gush about Spider-Woman, but here you have a little more freedom to show off.
You looked up to make sure Dr. Penmark had her eyes on you, and you opened up your hands to reveal a small web, covering your hands in a heart shape, with the words “Love ya” in its center. You winked when she gasped softly, then immediately delved into a fit of giggles.
“You little charmer!” She flaps her clipboard at you as if to wave you off. “That's honestly wonderful!”
“Another power of mine is my apparent irresistibly. It seems to be a curse if my own doctor can't withstand it.”
“Yeah, well, neither can Venom, I suppose.” With that she disappears behind the curtain with a wave, leaving you to process what she said.
You sighed and fell back into the pillows, and pulled one over your head to await death