In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

Long Awaited Answers

Again, I found myself in the tube, falling through time. Garbled voices shouted and whispered, blue and yellow wisps swirled around each other on the curved edges of the tube, and time itself was surrounding me, allowing itself to be shown to me.

I didn't resist. I had done what the Stone wanted me to; I touched it, I became one with it, and now I was along for the ride.

I saw the black tunnel approaching. I tucked in my limbs and my head to pass through it, and then I was frozen, levitating in the air. I was lowered down through the wistful green puffs of smoke. It was dark, though a green iridescence was evident in the lighting.

My toes touched solid ground and I looked down and around but saw no structures. It looked as if we were qt a frozen point in time. The floor was black, there were no walls, just fog, and a green lighting to see the way, of which there was none. It was just a space carved for someone. Someone worthy of control over the Stone.

"Clara," boomed the voice that I'd become accustomed to hearing. "You've arrived early, my love."

I stayed quiet. I stepped carefully into a rotation, readying myself for combat. Strangely enough, the physical constrictions I had felt since I begun my evolution had vanished when I was in a close distance to the Stone, but I also felt at my normal strength in this place, wherever it was.

I watched a figure soaring wistfully through the fog towards me. As he came closer, the outline of a body became clear. He was tall and shared just the shape of a human. He did not have a skin color, he didn't have eyes to look into; he was a soft white glow of a figure and had mounds where eyes should be, but were not.

He floated in front of me and cast his hand down the side of my cheek. His hand, despite being made of up of wists, felt solid against my cheek. Warm. Powerful, oddly enough. His simple touch brought stability to my shaking body. It was as if, when we touched, I became stronger. He noticeably flickered, like a lightbulb experiencing a shortage, though it was brief and simple to miss. I was too entranced in his existence to not notice. He was beautiful.

"I know you have questions, my love, and I have answers, I do. You've been on this journey looking for answers a long time, Clara. This is the end of it. This is where your life starts to make sense," he told me softly.

"Are you Agamotto?" I whispered.

His lips curved. "I am. A name that means nothing more to you than the simple casing around the Infinity Stone, maybe, but that will all change soon, my dear."

"What are you talking about?" I asked him.

Agamotto outwardly sighed. He raised his hands to hover, surrounding my face. Instinctively, I gripped onto his forearms, ready to fight back, if necessary. He shook his head. I relaxed. Slowly, he inched his face closer to my own, bringing his hands in, and he cupped my face, touching our foreheads together.

Simultaneously, we gasped. There was pain. It came from the rejection our minds experienced, at first, because such a transference had never been done before. Through the touch of our foreheads, the elongated touch of our contact, he was transferring history, his life, to my brain.

Agamotto found the Time Stone floating in space. He created the mold around it to both protect the weak from holding it and to hide it from those strong enough to wield it. It became one of the few objects he bonded to.

With it, it enhances his specialization of divination and truth; the Eye of Agamotto contains an all-revealing light that is said so because the being himself is described as "all-knowing," implying omniscience in dimensions even beyond his own.

It bonded to me because it wanted me to see my truth: I was destined to become in control of it. It hadn't worked when Strange first used it because before it could think about changing time, it's first duty was to me, in both allowing me to find my truth and see also that, one day, it would belong to me.

I stumbled back from Agamotto forcefully, too overwhelmed with the process of knowledge. He went through not even half of his lifetime and I was winded physically and overwhelmed mentally.

"Clara," he gasped, reaching for me.

I stayed on the ground, holding my hand out. "No. You stay. I don't want a transference, I want the Sparknotes version," I demanded. "Who the hell are you and why do you want me?"

He settled. If he didn't like my decision, it wasn't obvious. He complied with my request and he told me answers to all of the questions I had piled up over however long it had been since I first traveled back in time.

His name was Agamotto and, in the end, that's all it was: a name, a title, a job description. Being Agamotto meant actively seeking truth and knowledge about the universe and within the cosmos, maintaining order when it came to protection of the Time Stone and other sundry.

He was born from the tear of Oshtur, a benevolent Elder Goddess of Earth. He said he came into existence around 25,000 B.C. I had told him he looked great for his age, if he aged as humans did.

It was then he told me that he was not human in any way, though he did have the ability to shapeshift, and he posed as a human on Earth for years. It was how the Mystic Arts began. He became the first Sorcerer Supreme, he created the first Sanctum Sanctorum, he was a member of the Vishanti, but most importantly, despite his time crafting the Mystic Arts and existing on Earth, he did not possess human qualities.

"I have power, Clara," he noted, "All of which is being transfered over to you."

"Are you going to transfer your mind into my body?" I asked defensively. "Am I going to share a body with you?"

Agamotto laughed. "No, Clara, you're only human. Humans are weak. Why do you think you've been going through so much pain?"

I frowned. "I don't understand."

Agamotto went on to explain the conditions of the transference, as far as he knew. From what he had been told, the only aspects of his being that would transfer entirely would be his knowledge and his powers, of all sorts, physical and mystical. His mind would be lost to Death, as would the makeup of his figure.

Because I was born a human, our physicality differed immensely. His transfer of his knowledge would aid me in my new role in the universe. His power would transfer as well, and I would become almost invincible. Pain would cease to exist, he thought.

"'You think' ?" I repeated. "Haven't you been alive for decades? Shouldn't you know?"

"I've only planned to die once, Clara. I can't see into the future, but I know it's upcoming," he said casually. "The transference began when your friend tried to subdue your power with the electrical shock. It irritated you so deeply, I felt it. And I gave all that I had to begin your transition so we could save you from severing our attachment."

I didn't know what to say. Information was being thrown at me, and I knew it would stick, because Agamotto was "all-knowing," and I was on the road to becoming that name. That was the point of it all, all the pain, the suffering, the time spent wondering why and how-- I was destined to become the next Agamotto.

"The transference, although it is the first of its kind, hurts because you're human. Humans are pitiful compared to other races. And despite what traces of my power you held in you, you're a human before you're Agamotto. And you always will be, my love. That's what makes this painful. That's what will make this hard. To be human means to have empathy... To be Agamotto means... Different, to say the least."

I sighed. I couldn't look at him in the face without wanting to scream.

"So, what, I have to take on the duty of Agamotto now because I'm special? Because the universe chose me?" I snapped. "What if I don't want to be Agamotto? What if I ask you to find someone else?"

"The universe didn't choose you. I didn't choose you. If I had known I would have to complete a transference, pass my life's duty on, I would have prepared a stronger being. How you came to be a possession of mine happened through your mother's accident, my love," said Agamotto.

My heart dropped. "What?"