You'll Never Be Alone [mpreg|sequel]

xiv

Dan stares vacantly ahead.  His blurry vision can just make out the red of a traffic light in the distance, cars honking and people slowly re-appearing.  He thinks someone shouts for 9-1-1.  He's not quite sure, everything feels a little numb. 

He doesn't want to move.

He doesn't want to think.

Tears cling to his lashes and he feels like giving up, like laying down and letting the blood continue to leave his body without even putting up a fight.

A small nudge from the inside of his belly forces him to stay awake though.

Reminds him that he has a reason to fight, to survive.

He rubs his belly soothingly before heaving himself into a sitting position.

People begin to crowd around him, unsure of what to do.

Internally, he rolls his eyes, the doctor in him beginning to kick in.

He scoots over until his back is pressed against the wall of the nearest building.

He shrugs off the sweater as best he can, wincing as more blood pours from the bullet wound in his shoulder as he moves his arm.  He grabs a sleeve and tries to make a tourniquet despite the thick fabric making it difficult to tie around..

He's still in shock, maybe that's why he can't feel the burning pain as he move fluidly.  Mind still unable to process what just happened, but his hands are on autopilot.

He reaches for his phone, but instead of dialing 9-1-1 like his instincts insist, he speed-dials Eddy with bloodied trembling fingers.

Eddy answers on the first ring, "Dan?"

Dan doesn't answer for a moment.

It's only been half an hour since he last saw the man, since he last claimed his freedom from the safety of the Brock-Symbiote house.  What a mistake that was, he realizes now.

"Dan? Are you there?  Maybe it was butt-dial?"

That brings amusement to Dan and he finally manages to at least clear his throat.

"I need help," he croaks.

It's weak and small, but Eddy catches on.

"Dan? Where are you? What's going on?"

Dan doesn't know how to answer.  Whatever he says first will set Eddy on edge.  Hell, this call already has the other man on high alert.

"Downtown," he answers at last, as an afterthought he adds, "I've been shot."

The sharp intake of breath was expected he muses, at least he isn't freaking out, not yet.

"What happened?"

"Can't," Dan begins, throat tightening as he remembers Riot leaving him.

Not by choice, he reminds himself.

"Can't explain," he forces out, "but I need to get out of here, I can't go to a hospital."

"Where's Riot?" Venom asks.

Dan's eyes sting with tears, "Just get here."

He hangs up before looking down at his shoulder.

There's no exit wound, that much he can tell.  He needs to dig the bullet out, the sooner, the better so he can stitch the wound close.  He wiggles his fingers through the shirt created by the pierce of the bullet and he tears the fabric as best he can.

He can here someone to his left gasp. He pays the audience no mind.

His priorities are his life and his child.

He won't survive without Riot, but like hell will he go out without a fight.

Not when his baby is depending solely on him again.

He presses his fingers around the wound, trying to gauge how deep the bullet may be.  He bites his lip as a scream threatens to escape his lips. A gush of blood follows from the light tough, dribbling and making his skin sticky and red.

He feels like gagging.

It isn't the first he's seen blood, but it's the simple fact that it is his own which makes him feel sick and feint.

He can't afford to pass out though.

Not in front of all these people.

Not while Drake is out there and a threat to him and his child.

"Dan," a growled voice.

Dan squints up, the sunlight blocked by a massive figure.

Dan has never been more glad to see the symbiote before him as he is now.

"Carnage."

"Progenitor said you were hurt."

Dan nods, struggling to stand up.

Carnage reaches out to help him without a second thought.

Once on his feet he feels woozy and he tries not to let the spinning around him overwhelm him to the point of vomiting.  He swallows the bile back and takes a deep breath.

"Riot?"

"Gone," Dan answers, voice breaking.

"Gone?" The red symbiote parrots.

Dan begins limping away even as police offers and ambulances finally arrive at the scene.

The sirens are too loud and they hurt Dan's ears.

A headache blossoms slowly behind his eyes.  His shoulder finally throbs and his stomach is revolting at the movement of his steps.  The adrenaline is slipping away and the shock is starting to wear off as reality begins to hit him.

"He made a choice."

To protect us, he tries to reason.

But the truth is... he's not quite sure.