In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

Searching For Answers

Agamotto spent two years preparing me to understand my relationship with the Time Stone. He sent me throughout time and space to understand the effect of messing with reality, with timelines, and to understand my future correlation to it. I was naturally born from the Orb of Agamotto, my destiny was chosen by him, but my relationship with the Time Stone came with the intent of a natural connection through Agamotto and a subsequent protective aspect. In time, I learned it protected me as much as I had a duty to protect it.

In my searching, I always called out to it. Somewhere in me, I felt its existence, still. It was weak, but it was somewhere. I called for it to answer to me, to send a call sign, but it resisted. It refused to speak with me, for a reason I did not know, but I knew must be necessary. I trusted in it to call for me when it could, and I digressed.

Agamotto was accredited with more abilities than I. I was no Sorcerer Supreme, I was not anciently old, I was not able to travel at hyperspeed or instill my being in Artifacts. I was lesser, in different abilities, but I was not bothered by it. I didn't need more abilities under my belt; I was powerful by my existence. I drew pure power from an Infinity Stone, I was able to teleport through space and time, and, the only new ability Agamotto transferred to me, granted me the ability of omniscience.

To say the least, it was overwhelming to suddenly be all-knowing. It didn't stay with my consistently. I had to focus and slip into the mindset to let knowledge flow through my mind. I didn't know this, of course, and as I sat down in the middle of my Light Dimension, my legs crossed, my back straight, my mind ready to expand, I let go of my blockage on my power, and I fell unconscious from the sudden swell in my head. 

The second time I tried to be omniscient I knew what to expect. I tried to open the blockage slowly, letting in fractions, instead of it all at once. I felt my breathing hike, my eyes jerk from left to right, up and down, because time, I learned, was all at once. I watched from a Bids Eye View as I was with reuniting with Steve at the same time that we went down in the crashed plane in the Artic. Moments were spread before me in a rotary belt, all happening simultaneously, in their own circular containment. My moments. Expanding them outward, beyond my own memories, and to others was the trick to learn.

It was practice, and I despised it. I worked on expanding beyond me, it took a prolonged amount of time, it took a couple unconscious accidents to realize I needed to rest my brain.

To do expand beyond where I had lived, I learned to look at time as continuous, ongoing. Pinpointing moments required a look at dimensions, time, space, history. It required focus— a little luck, because I was new to the ability of omniscience. For a while, I just saw things. I saw people, beings, wars, creation of planets— just things happening. Timing was only a single factor to master, and it was most challenging, because time is ongoing, ever-present.

When I first saw where I had never been, it was a moment in Steve's life. I found a moment, I willed my presence to be there, and I was. My surroundings morphed to match the scene; I was dropped into the Avengers Compound. As opposed to the time traveling I'd done, I was present, but not seen.

I walked, the sound of my footsteps nonexistent, to meet Steve. He stood at the window of the compound, his hands gripping the rail, his legs behind him. His hips shifted the weight of his body off center. His shoulders were tense, his head down. Blonde still lived entirely in his hair, he wore no beard. The Steve I saw was the pre-Civil War one.

As I approached, I noticed him looking out the window. I peered over the railing to follow his sight. Unsurprisingly, he was watching me. I was sitting outside on a lawn chair, our dog, Max, sharing the chair with me. I had a computer on my lap and a beer in the holder of my chair. At least, from my end, I saw nothing worthy of attention. Back then, it was how I always looked.