everthing turns to ash

Your breath caught. His face was suddenly inches from yours. Then less than inches. Your noses nearly touched. Blue eyes met your own. "So," Ben said quietly, one eyebrow arching. "You got any more impossible things you wanna tell me?"

You dropped onto the floor with a dramatic sigh, shaking your head as if to emphasize the point. "Nope. That's it. You officially know everything about me." Ben stared at you for a moment, trying to process everything you'd just told him. He rubbed the back of his neck before pointing at you. "So, let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You're The Spider? In your universe?"

The question wasn't new. It was the third time he'd asked, just to make sure he hadn't somehow misunderstood. You nodded patiently. "Yes. Well, Spider-Woman, to be exact." You corrected him. "Right." He nodded along. "Spider-Woman."

He paced a small circle around the room, his mind clearly working overtime. "So... you're basically like me?" "More or less." You shrugged. "We have similar powers, similar responsibilities. The difference is where I'm from, there are a lot of us. Hundreds of Spider-People running around helping people." You thought briefly of the Spider Society. Of Miguel. Ben's eyebrows rose.

"Hundreds?" Ben said bewildered of the thought that they were hundreds like him. "Trust me, it sounds crazier the longer you think about it." He let out a low whistle before his attention shifted toward the strange device attached to your wrist. "And that's how you got stuck here?" he asked, pointing at it. "Pretty much." You lifted your arm and glanced down at the damaged gizmo. "That's the short version."

"Can't you just go back?" You shook your head. "It's broken. My friend is the only person who can fix it." You mentioned Miguel. "Ah." The realization seemed to settle over him. "So you're stranded." "For the time being." You sighed, looking away. "Yeah." Silence lingered for a moment.

Ben studied you carefully. For all your confidence and powers, you looked lost. You were completely out of your element—a stranger in a world that wasn't yours, stuck in a time that didn't belong to you and separated from everyone you knew.

A fish out of water. His expression softened. "Come on." Before you could ask what he meant, he slung an arm around your shoulders and steered you toward the door. "Let's get a drink. My treat." He offered "Ben, that's really not—" You started. Too late. He was already leading you down the street.

A few blocks later, the two of you stepped into a worn-down bar tucked between old brick buildings. The place smelled faintly of smoke, wood polish, and of course alcohol. You slid into a booth across from him. Ben caught the bartender's attention. "One for the lovely lady." He winked at you. A coin landed on the counter with a metallic clink. "And one for me." Another coin followed.

The bartender nodded and returned moments later with two glasses. "Thanks," you said politely. You took a single shot. That was enough. Getting drunk wasn't exactly easy when your body processed alcohol at superhuman speeds. Your enhanced metabolism burned through it almost immediately. It would probably take an absurd amount before you felt anything. Ben, however, seemed determined to test that theory for himself.

One drink became two. Two became four. Then another. And another. You watched him knock back the latest glass before reaching across the table and stopping him. "Hey, Ben." He looked up. "That's enough for now." You suggested He blinked slowly. "...Yeah." After a long pause, he nodded. "I think you're right." A few minutes later, the two of you were back at his office. Ben closed the door behind him and immediately swayed.

You caught his arm before he tipped over. "Easy there." You said holding his arm "I'm fine," he said. The wobble in his legs suggested otherwise. "I was thinking while we were drinking." That statement alone worried you. "Oh?" You said with a worried tone He pointed at you. "Why don't you work for me?" He suggested.

"What?" You blinked. "Work for me." He gestured broadly. "I keep an eye on you. You keep an eye on me. Everybody wins." You considered it. Honestly, it wasn't a terrible idea. You needed somewhere stable to stay while you figured out how to get home. Working with Ben would keep you close enough to monitor him while giving you a legitimate reason to stick around.

It made sense. "But don't you already have a secretary?" You asked "Oh, Janet?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, sure." His hand continued waving long after the point had been made. "I'll just tell her you're my assistant or something. Filing paperwork. Organizing files. Doing all that boring office junk."

You couldn't help laughing. "That's your plan?" You asked "It's an excellent plan." Ben assured. "It's barely a plan." "It's a fantastic barely-a-plan." Ben said with a shrug. You stared at him for a moment before finally giving in. "Okay."

Peter pushed himself up from his office chair, the old wood creaking softly beneath him. The easy composure he'd carried moments ago vanished as he took several measured steps toward you. His expression tightened, suspicion flashing across his features.

"How do you know that name?" The question came out sharper than he'd intended. No one was supposed to know that name. He had buried it years ago. After the war, Peter Parker ceased to exist. He had made sure of that. He'd shed the name like an old skin and rebuilt himself as Ben Reilly, taking the surname from the people who had raised him. It wasn't just a new identity, it was a promise to leave the past where it belonged.

And yet somehow, you had reached into that buried past and pulled it back into the light. His eyes narrowed as they dropped to the strange broken device strapped around your wrist. It looked like a watch, but not any watch he'd ever seen. The metal gleamed with unfamiliar technology, its cracked display flickering faintly. It definitely didn't belong in his time.

A knot formed in his stomach. He already had a feeling about where this conversation was heading. After all, he was a detective. And a damn good one. You swallowed before speaking. "I know that name because that name is very familiar to me, Peter." You spoke softly. "I know you. I know who you are." You emphasized the last part carefully.

Not just Ben Reilly. Not just the detective standing in front of you. You knew the man beneath the mask. The hero. In everyone else's universe, everyone knew him as Spider-Man. Honestly, that sounded a lot cooler than "The Spider." Ben immediately cut you off. "First of all, my name isn't Peter Parker anymore. It's Ben Reilly." His correction was firm. Final.

"And look, lady," he continued, pointing a warning finger toward you, "don't go around spewing my real name to anybody else." The seriousness in his voice left no room for argument. You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes. Of course." The last thing you wanted was to upset him. Still, the question lingered in your mind. Why Ben Reilly? You knew a Ben Reilly. Well... sort of. The Ben Reilly from the Spider Society was Peter Parker's clone. A little reckless, occasionally an airhead, but ultimately a good person.

But that Ben had nothing to do with this Ben. This Ben belonged to an entirely different story. A different universe. Spider-Noir's universe. Or... maybe not Spider-Noir's. Because here, Peter Parker wasn't Peter Parker. He was Ben Reilly.

Your head started to hurt. Multiverse rules were complicated enough without alternate identities getting mixed into the equation. You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Now wasn't the time. Miguel had warned you about this. Almost immediately, a memory surfaced.

Miguel stood at the front of a meeting room, pointer stick in hand like a strict college professor. Behind him, a whiteboard was covered with diagrams, timelines, and enough notes to make your eyes glaze over. "Each Spider-Person is unique," Miguel began, tapping the board. His voice carried the same exhausted authority it always did.

"They all have different stories. Different worlds. Different experiences." He drew another circle on the board. "But there are events that connect all of us." The stick tapped against the board. "Maybe it's a Peter Parker falling in love with MJ."

Tap. "Maybe it's another Peter trying to save Gwen Stacy." Tap. "Maybe it's someone losing a mentor." Tap. "It's always about love. Responsibility. Sacrifice. Saving lives." He crossed his arms. "These are canon events." You had slouched farther into your chair. "Yeah, yeah, Professor O'Hara." You cracked a joke. Miguel's eye twitched.

"We all have canon events or whatever." You waved dismissively, already halfway checked out of the lecture. The glare Miguel sent your way could've killed you. Still... What he'd said was true. Every Spider-Person shared something. The details changed. The faces changed. But the story was always there.

In your universe, Peter Parker was supposed to become Spider-Man. He had been right there beside you on that school trip. But fate had other plans. The spider bit you instead. And suddenly, you were the one swinging through skyscrapers, saving civilians, and carrying the weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

You became Spider-Woman.

The memory faded.

You returned to the present.

Ben was still standing in front of you, waiting. Trusting him felt dangerous. Yet somehow, you did. Maybe more than you should have. You drew a steady breath. "What I'm about to say is going to sound insane." Ben slowly nodded. The gesture silently urged you to continue. "But you need to believe me." His expression remained unreadable.

"My name is Y/N L/N." You paused. "And I'm from another universe."

Silence.

Ben blinked once. Then twice. The words clearly hit him harder than he expected. Another universe? Fantastic. Because his life wasn't already complicated enough. But before he could respond, you crouched slightly and launched yourself upward. With a single effortless movement, you flipped through the air and stuck to the ceiling.

Ben's eyes widened. For the first time since meeting him, you had completely caught him off guard. "And in that universe," you continued, hanging upside down, "I'm Spider-Woman." For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Ben smirked. Without a word, he mirrored your action. He leapt upward and planted himself on the ceiling beside you with practiced ease even though he was retired from being the famed hero.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your fingers fidgeted with the watch Miguel had given you. It was supposed to let you travel freely between your universe and his a piece of technology so advanced that it looked more like something from a science fiction movie than an actual device.

There was just one problem. You had absolutely no idea how it worked. Unlike most of the Spider-People you'd met across the multiverse, you weren't a genius. You couldn't build gadgets from scraps, solve impossible equations, or understand futuristic technology at a glance. You were just... you. And right now, that meant staring at a complicated watch and hoping you didn't accidentally break it.

As you pressed one of the glowing buttons, the screen suddenly sprang to life. You jumped. "Okay—definitely not touching that again," you muttered under your breath. Unfortunately, it was already too late. The watch emitted a sharp electronic chirp before a swirling portal burst open in front of you. Your eyes widened in panic. "Wait, wait, WAIT—!"The words tore from your throat in a panicked shout as sudden fear gripped your chest. Instinctively, you threw your arms out, wildly flailing them as if you could somehow grab onto something anything to stop what was happening.

A powerful force yanked you forward before you could react. The world twisted around you in a blur of colors and light. Your stomach lurched violently as the sensation of falling and floating mixed together. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. You stumbled forward and nearly lost your balance. "What the...?" Blinking rapidly, you looked around.

Everything was black and white. Not gray. Not dull. Literally black and white. The streets, the buildings, the people walking past—it was as though you had stepped directly into an old movie. Vintage cars rumbled down the road, jazz music drifted faintly from somewhere nearby, and every person you saw was dressed like they belonged in another century. Your heart sank.

"Oh no." You knew exactly where you were. Spider-Noir's universe. The 1930s. You looked down at the watch and groaned. "Great. Just great." Trying not to panic, you hurried down the unfamiliar streets, searching for a familiar face. Peter. Or anyone you recognized.

After several minutes of wandering, your eyes landed on a small office tucked between two aging buildings. The lettering on the frosted glass door immediately caught your attention. B. Reilly. You froze as confusion written across your face. That name was familiar. Very familiar in fact that he was a clone of Peter but you shook your head trying to make sense of everything

Curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you reached for the knob and pushed the door open. The office smelled faintly of old paper, ink, and cigarette smoke. Shadows stretched across the room beneath the dim lighting. And sitting behind the desk was a man. At first glance, you thought it was Ben Reilly. Then he looked up.

Your breath caught in your throat. No. Not Ben. It was Peter. Peter Parker. You'll know that face anywhere. Though, you have no idea why, he change his name in the first place.