Ding-dong.
Jack stirred awake at the sound of the doorbell. He blinked at the window — evening light already. He checked the time and sat up slowly.
Noon to evening. Guess I really crashed.
He shuffled downstairs and pulled open the door.
Gwen, Peter, MJ — and Uncle Ben.
Jack blinked. He wasn't surprised to see the three of them, but Uncle Ben was a different story.
"Hey — wow. Uncle Ben too? Didn't see that coming."
"I was picking Peter up from school," Uncle Ben said with an easy smile. "Heard his new friend wasn't doing too well. Figured I'd tag along."
"We brought food," MJ added, holding up a bag.
"Thanks, guys. Seriously — come in." Jack stepped aside as they filed in. "Peter talks about you a lot, sir," he said to Uncle Ben. "Good things, I promise."
Uncle Ben chuckled. "Well, that's a relief."
Gwen was already looking at Jack the way she always did when something was wrong — like she was running a quiet diagnosis in the background.
"You don't look great," she said. "Did you see a doctor?"
"It's just a cold." Jack waved it off. "I'll be fine by tomorrow."
"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced. "Where's your medical kit?"
"Gwen, seriously — it's not a big deal—"
"Come on, man." Peter grinned. "Dr. Gwen's already on the case. Just give it up."
MJ laughed softly. "Yeah, you're not winning this one."
Uncle Ben folded his arms, amused. "Smart man knows when to surrender."
Jack looked around the room. Four people. Zero sympathy.
"...Fine."
A few minutes later, Gwen held up the thermometer.
"Jack. It's 103."
Peter's grin dropped. "Okay — yeah. That's not just a cold."
"That's pretty high, son." Uncle Ben's voice was calm, but there was no brushing it off. "Take something for it and get some rest tonight."
"And if it doesn't come down by morning," Gwen said, "we're going to a doctor. No arguments."
Jack opened his mouth.
Gwen raised an eyebrow.
He closed it.
"...Okay."
"You know," Uncle Ben said, settling back with that easy manner of his, "you should come by the house sometime. May and I would love to have you over."
"All of you, really," he added, glancing around at the group. "Seeing Peter make real friends — good ones — that means a lot to us." He smiled. "And fair warning, May will absolutely try to feed you until you can't move. Woman takes cooking personally."
Peter groaned. "Uncle Ben, don't start—"
"I'm just saying." Uncle Ben held up a hand, completely unbothered. "The pot roast alone is worth the trip."
The room laughed. Even Jack smiled.
That was the thing about Ben Parker — talking to him didn't feel like talking to someone's parent. It felt easy. Natural. Like running into an old neighbor who actually had time for you.
Jack watched him laugh at his own joke and felt something tighten quietly in his chest.
This man is going to die.
The thought came without warning. He didn't know exactly when, or how it would happen in this version of events — the multiverse had a way of reshuffling the small details. But the broad shape of it? He knew. Once Spider-Man was born, Uncle Ben Parker didn't get a long story.
If there's a way to change it… I should at least try.
"Oh — hey." Peter snapped his fingers. "Almost forgot. I called Colleen Wing and let her know you're out sick. Told her you won't be back until you're better."
Jack blinked. "Oh. Thanks, man — I completely forgot to call her."
"Yeah, figured." Peter shrugged like it was nothing. "She said feel better and don't rush it."
They didn't stay much longer after that — Jack was flagging, and they all knew it. At the door, MJ set the food bag on the counter.
"Don't even think about cooking. It's all ready."
"Text me if you need anything," Peter said.
Gwen paused at the door, turning back. "Call me if it gets worse. I mean it."
"I will," Jack said. And for once, he actually meant it.
Uncle Ben gave him a steady look — not a lecture, just the kind that said take care of yourself without needing the words.
"We'll check in on you," he said simply.
Jack leaned against the doorframe as they headed down the hall. He watched until the elevator doors closed.
"Thanks, guys." He let out a slow breath. "Really."
He spotted the food on the counter and realized he was starving. He sat down and started eating.
"This is good."
He finished and leaned back. The night was still long. He pulled open his laptop and started ordering — materials, components, a few expensive things he'd been putting off.
"Since I have Grey Matter now… I should actually plan this properly."
He glanced at the door, then at his hands. Then he transformed.
Katcha.
Where Jack had been sitting, a small Galvan now hunched over the laptop — fingers moving fast, eyes sharp, thoughts running three steps ahead of his hands. Suit designs. Contingency plans. Ways to stay off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. Future gadgets. It all poured out in a focused, unbroken stream.
Then the red light flashed, and he was human again.
He stared at the screen. He could follow maybe half of what he'd written.
"Using Grey Matter to think really drains you… and with this headache, it hit even harder."
He rubbed his temples and closed the laptop.
While Jack was busy planning, news about him was quietly spreading.
In the White House, a man in a dark suit stepped into the Oval Office and placed a folder on the desk.
"Mr. President." He kept his voice low, even though they were alone. "This came through our contacts inside a known organization. Nick Fury is running it. It appears they've found hard evidence — of aliens. On American soil."
The President didn't speak right away.
He picked up the folder. Read the first page. Set it face-down on the desk.
"Suppress it," he said finally. "Fully. I don't want a single word reaching the public — no rumors, no alien talk, no doomsday theories. Nothing gets out."
"And Fury?"
The President's jaw tightened slightly.
"Watch him."
The man nodded once and left without another word.
The Oval Office went quiet.
Outside the window, the city moved like nothing had changed.
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated with 10 advanced chapters. If you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join here:
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