In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

Inside the New York Sanctum

For whatever reason, Stephen stormed out to the street. I couldn't decipher if it was simply to get me out of his sight, or if he was truly desperate to find a solution to the problem at hand. I settled for labeling it as a cautious mix of both.

I traveled up the grand staircase in the foyer to search for someone, if anyone, lived within the Sanctum. I figured help was our best option; finding someone knowledgeable in the Mystic Arts seemed like a decent course of action.

When he found me again, I was surveying the end of a dimly lit hall, where three doors with shimmering golden buttons on each left side were situated against a wall. One looked out over a forest, another the ocean, and the other one a snowy mountain.

I pressed my fingers softly to the golden button in the center door. A shining arrangement of shapes spun around the button until I drew away my fingers. The environment inside of the door shaped into a vast desert.

"Strange," I mumbled.

"Clara!" said the man himself, running down the hall to meet me. He ordered, rather than asked, "Call your Avengers people."

I shook my head. "Ooh. Can't do that."

"Why?"

"It's a rule of time, I learned. I can't interfere with where past-me is in the timeline."

Then, I left him behind to seek out a different hallway. I found another set of stairs that took me to an attic, of sorts. It was filled with gadgets and gizmos in glass cases. I called out into the echoing room before I entered to walk through the exhibit of magical devices.

I walked through the cases of wonder, briefly laying my hand on each case. It felt as if I was a child once more, walking through those display cases. Each held something new, or never before seen. They were mysteries waiting to be discovered and researched, but still kept hidden as secrets within the Mystical World. They were wonders.

Stephen's quick and heavy footing up the stairs caused me to turn. As he passed a display case with a floating, red cloak in it, the piece of cloth moved across the case with him. It shriveled up in the corner of the case, aiming to be with him, for some reason.

Blinded by irritation, Stephen hadn't noticed. Instead, he snapped, "Blake, you're the one who's used to this: all the danger, all the destruction, all the problem-solving in a situation like this. You're the hero--"

"Yes, but from what it sounds like, you're supposed to be one, too, for the Mystic Arts," I interrupted. I raised my eyebrow. "Getting your own behind out of potentially life destructing scenarios is a required skill for such a duty."

"I never signed up for--"

"Learning to put the world, civilians, innocents, before yourself. So, think, Stephen. What's the best move from this point forward? What would Doctor Stephen Strange do?" I wondered.

"I don't know!" shouted Stephen. "What I do know is that you have the ability to help us, and you won't! You don't care about the outcome of my life, or what happens to me! Your only care is with the Eye!"

Raising my eyebrow, I watched him. I lacked the reaction he wanted. He wasn't entirely wrong. He just wasn't correct, either. I did nothing to show him of that.

"Guess what, Blake? You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," he challenged.

I scoffed. "I would never let you die on my watch, Stephen, nor by my own hand, and I can guarantee it wouldn't be over that stone."

I took a step towards Stephen. I touched the gold markings around the Eye. It surged as soon as my fingertip made contact. I felt the stone send small shock waves through the casing and into my body. It felt as if it was replenishing the energy it had stolen from me in the first place.