1st P.O.V. (reader's)

Y/N - your name. But I'm sure you already know that.

It was done. I wasted another day with no improvements. Surely the masters had had enough of me. I felt defeated, trapped. I couldn't improve. My ego wouldn't let me.

I decided that I would leave. For the best. I packed my small duffle bag with the few things I had: a book of various poems, my knife (for emergencies; it was a difficult trip to get to the temple), a small photo of my parents when they were young, and my grandmothers pendle, which I tucked around my neck. Last, I threw a dark cloak over my back to mask the off-white kimono I wore.

The halls were empty and dark; courtesy of the late curfew. I slipped down the stairs and through the various studies. Before reaching the courtyard and training grounds, a big gate stopped me.

"Locked, damnit," I mumbled. I had to find a way around. Then I remembered, I can use my sling-ring to let me go anywhere. That is, if I could use it. The day's contents left me hopeless. So instead, I pulled out a pin from my hair and began to attempt unlocking the gate.

I had only done that before as a child; when my mother locked the box to my toys. I found a hairpin in my mother's cubbord and picked the lock open. Of course, I was caught and punished appropriately.

This scenario was something else. I'm trapped in a place I don't want to be, in a time I shouldn't be out, and I suck at mystic arts. Great.

After nearly lose interest my patience, the gate finally opened. Alas! I could escape. I made a silent dash for the main-hall doors.

A deep voice stopped me in my tracks. "Where are you going at this late hour?" It was a man.

Chills ran up my spine. I knew I was caught. So I wasted no time and told the truth, trying to pinpoint where the man was. "I'm leaving."

The sound of someone jumping off the wall and stalking around me made me even more nervous. "Why?"

"Because I'm weak, I don't belong here." I gulped.

"Anyone belongs here." He replied.

I shook my head. "No, not me. I can't do anything worth-a-spell."

The man chuckled deeply. I could sense him walking around me. "Yes, yes. We've all had our moments. You just need-"

"- to go. I don't belong here."

"You already said that." He was in front of me, but I couldn't see.

I squinted into the dim light. "Who are you?"

He stepped closer. I could make out a man in temple uniform. His hair grown out a little.

"Mister Strange?"

He sighed, irritated. "No. No, it's Doctor Strange. As in P.H.D doctor."

I began slowly moving around him, closer to the main-hall. "Oh. My apologies. Now if you excuse me, Doctor-"

He grabbed my arm. That was a stupid mistake. Out of reflex, my fist went flying to his face. I hit his chin, but close enough.

The doctor reeled back in pain, grasping his face with one hand.

I stepped forward to apologize. He just held out a hand.

"I- I'm sorry. I do that out of reflex. I couldn't help it. I'll manage it, sir. I mean, Doctor."

He stood up and looked me deep into my eyes. I blushed. "It's fine. Seriously though, woman, you say you're weak?"

I nodded. "Kind of?"

He laughed. That was surprising. I just punched this man and now he was laughing. I thought I was the crazy one here.

Suddenly, a light switched on from the second floor. The library. Master Wong stepped onto the balcony. I studied the doctor's face for blemishes. As I suspected, his lip was bleeding.

He squinted to see who we were. "Strange? What's going on?"

"Just a little run-in. It's taken care of. Goodnight."

Master Wong grunted and walked back inside, switching off the light.

I spoke up. "Your lip..."

The silhouette of the doctor reach up and dab his lip. He motioned for me to follow. "Come."

~l~l~

He was a neosurgeon from New York. Was, of course. Until a car accident took away the ability away to use his hands. He sought help everywhere, but ended up here at the temple. Where he studied mystic arts. Apparently things happened. A war, yadda, yadda, and next thing he knew he was a master.

I sat near him in a small room. His room. He examined his wound and dressed it properly. I offered to help, but he graciously denied. A gentleman. Even after I ruined his perfect chin. Hey, I can't help it. It's true!

Anyway, he asked me who I was and again, I told him the truth. My name was (still is) Y/N. I was an austronaut-in-training when my mother tragically passed away suddenly. I was so upset, of course. My mother was my everything. My motivation, my will to be a better person, and my hope and faith for better days. That died along with her. So I slipped into a phase of alcohol and depression. I was kicked out of the pilot program and shoved into the world of being alone. I moved in with my father and slept in a spare bedroom, the memories of my mother surrounded me. I couldn't take it anymore. So, I chugged back a dozen-or-so pills and hoped I'd wake up in my mother's arms.

Instead, I woke up in my father's arms. I was cleared from the hospital five days later. That suicide attempt left me even more broken and now, it affected my everyday life. I lost my patience more. I slipped in and out of shutting everything out. My father shoved me into therapy. That didn't work. I left home two months later, in search of anything. The rest was a blur. It cleared up when the Ancient One handed me a cup of tea and asked me why I was there. She died just days later. I studied with masters in the temple. They attempted to teach me, but due to my screwed-up brain, I found it difficult to focus. I was scolded.

I told the doctor about my struggles with learning the arts. He told me he did too. That was a relief.

"So what were you doing outside so late?" I asked him.

He looked down. "I'm trying to figure things out. A girl..."

"Oh... I see. I'm sorry I can't help. I don't know much about love. Uh- not that I'm assuming you love her. It's just-"

He held up a hand, silencing me. "I'm tired, and you need sleep too. Don't leave. That's all I ask of you."

I nodded.

A smirk crept onto his face. "Good. Meet me in the library at 08:00."

"But I thought-"

He held up his hand again. "That wasn't me asking."

I knew he wouldn't force me. But something about his tone made me think he actually wanted to help me.