Work Text:
Mobius pulled his rental car into the dusty parking lot in front of the restaurant. Above the run-down building, a green neon sign flickered in the evening dusk, stuttering “The Grove Diner.” He navigated between the big rigs, and parked between a pick-up truck covered in rude bumper stickers and a beat-up sedan. It was the Middle of Nowhere, CA, twenty miles off the major freeway, hidden on a highway behind an almond grove.
Yeah, this was definitely the place.
He supposed he could’ve just portaled in using his tempad, but then the journey would’ve been over too quickly. He had nothing but time these days since he’d retired from the TVA, so a long, leisurely 8-hour drive wasn’t all that bad.
The interior of the restaurant matched its exterior, all worn Formica tabletops and cracked vinyl booths. It was clean, though, and still cheerily decorated for the holiday season, even if Christmas was five days past on this timeline. Country music played through unseen speakers, and the air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and fry oil. Mobius’ mouth watered, but he had eyes only for one thing, and he searched the diner for it.
Bingo!
There, in the tall glass case by the counter, were the pies. They rotated slowly, like they were prize jewels on display in a museum. He stepped closer, searching among the slices for that flash of neon green—
“Can I get you a menu?” The young waitress behind the counter approached Mobius with a tired smile. “Or you just stopping in for dessert?”
“You have any key lime?” Mobius asked.
“If you don’t see it in the case, then we’re out.” The waitress—Vivi, according the name tag pinned to her apron—shrugged apologetically.
Mobius’ heart sank. He’d driven all this way for nothing, it seemed.
“The other pies are good,” she said. “The banana cream is really popular.”
“Thanks, but, I had my taste buds set on that key lime.”
“I’ll be honest, I haven’t tried it,” Vivi admitted. “Something about that bright green color!”
“Oh, but that’s what makes it so good!” Mobius said, “It’s so cheerful! Can’t help but make you day a little brighter.”
“Hey, Vivi!” An elderly man poked his head through the order window. “Tell him I have one of those pies chilling in the fridge!”
Mobius’ brain had to do the split-second recalibration it always did when he came face-to-face with a Variant he recognized. Looking at the lined face, he had to remember that he wasn’t looking at Juaquin, the TVA’s head of commissary, but Francisco Diego, cook and baker at The Grove Diner in 2012.
“Gimme a minute, and I’ll plate up a slice!” Francisco called out to Mobius.
“Thanks, friend!” Mobius said, smiling gratefully.
He let Vivi escort him to a booth by the window, where he could watch the cars roll by on the narrow highway. He sipped his coffee, and was pleasantly surprised that it, too, had the same slight metallic tang of the TVA’s regular joe.
It hadn’t been hard to convince B-15 to slip him the info on Juaquin. In fact, Mobius suspected by her enthusiasm that she’d taken it as a good sign that he was asking questions about Variants again. She still wanted him to come back and help rebuild the organization that they’d spent so long defending.
Mobius was done, though. After everything he’d seen, everything he knew, everything he’d lost…how could he just go back? They were building a better future, true, but deep down, Mobius knew that was no future he wanted to be in.
Not when Loki wasn’t in it.
“Here you go, sir,” Vivi said as she placed the plate in front of him. There was his coveted pie, glowing that same electric green color that had greeted him from the TVA commissary walls. The usual rush of anticipation hit him, as he’d hoped. It was the first time he’d looked forward to anything in weeks. Months.
However, as the waitress left, the old sadness crept in on the edges of his enjoyment. Used to be he’d sit with his slice, puzzling over some case in his mind. Maybe he’d be chatting with Renslayer, or another agent. The pie always had a context: a reward or a distraction. Here, in this diner, it was just dessert.
Just like he was just some guy roaming aimlessly from timeline to timeline, trying to figure out what came next. No context, no mission, no partner.
He cut off a piece of the pie with his spoon, and took a bite. The familiar sweet-sour tang coated his tongue, and he couldn’t help a little hum of satisfaction. Context or no, that was still some damn good pie.
The last time he’d tasted it had been in the commissary with Loki, right before…well, before the end. Just the two of them in the cavernous room, seconds ticking by on the clock above them.
“You’ve never wanted to visit your place on the timeline?”
“Don’t you want to see the life you were supposed to live before they kidnapped you and brought you to the TVA?”
Mobius had. He’d gone back, he’d seen Don and his two boys. He’d seen the beautiful house with the unkempt yard.
He’d seen how happy he was.
His throat tightened. Maybe he should’ve stuck to his guns and kept his past a mystery, but he’d figured what else had he to lose? He’d already lost everything, including his best friend.
The answer had been worse than he’d expected. It wasn’t jealousy, per say, but there had been a deep sense of longing. Not for the house, or the jet-ski (though that had been a pretty sight), or the two rambunctious children. It had been for Don’s sense of belonging. There was no question in his mind where he was needed.
Mobius had lost that. No missions. No TVA.
No Loki.
Shit, even Loki had found where he belonged, didn’t he? Fulfilled his “glorious purpose” as a living temporal loom. What even was he now? The god of time?
Didn’t matter. Mobius would never be able to ask him.
“Happy New Year, partner,” Mobius whispered, and went in for another bite of pie.
“Mobius.”
He stopped, spoon hovering right above the slice. Did he just hear Loki’s voice? His heart hammering in his chest, he scanned the restaurant, but all he saw were the other diners and Vivi.
Great. Now he was hallucinating. What stage of grief was that? Anger, bargaining, fear, hallucinations…
Then, a green glow caught his eye. It wasn’t bright, almost like a reflection, but it was bouncing off his pie.
No, not his pie. His fingertip right above the pie.
He concentrated on the spot, keeping his finger motionless. He recognized that shade of green, had seen it spark from Loki’s hands whenever he’d used his powers. Last time he’d seen it, it had been thrumming through the threads of time running through Loki’s grasp, before they’d all followed him into a crack in space and time—
“Loki? Is that you?” He whispered.
There was the slightest brush against his glowing fingertip, and he sucked in his breath. He extended his finger, reaching, and hit soft resistance, like he was pressing against someone else’s finger.
His heart leapt. He was here! Somehow, Loki was here, sitting across from him in this booth.
“Can you hear me?” Mobius asked.
“Yes.” It was like hearing an echo in a wind tunnel, strained and faint.
“Is it hard to talk?”
“Very.”
“OK, hold on!” Mobius dug into the pocket of his fleece vest, and pulled out his phone earbud with his free hand. He stuck it in the ear facing the restaurant. “Little trick I learned so people don’t think you’re just talking to yourself, when you really are.”
Somehow, he felt Loki chuckle, and he saw his grin in his mind’s eye.
“I want to ask you a million questions, Loki, but I’m going to ask you just one. Are you OK?”
“Yes.” There was a pause so long that Mobius was afraid he’d lost the connection. The glow waned, but it didn’t go out. Finally, he heard, “Miss you.”
Mobius swallowed hard, tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings, but after everything that had happened, being given this chance…
“Miss you, too, friend,” Mobius said. He smiled across the table, even though all he saw was the back of a trucker’s head in the booth in front of him. “Nothing’s been the same with you gone.” He thought. If this was his one chance to talk to Loki, what is it he really wanted to tell him?
“I was right,” Mobius said, “about not seeing my life on the timeline. I should’ve just minded my own business, found a lake to retire on.” He saved Loki the effort of a reply, and pressed on. “It’s what I was afraid of, I saw how happy I was. And what hurts isn’t what I lost. That’s someone else’s life.” He took a deep breath. “What hurts is knowing that I had that with you. That sense of belonging, of being in the right place at the right time. Now it’s gone.” He sighed. “Really, I get why you did what you did, and I’m grateful. All of us are. But, there’s this small, selfish part of me that can’t help thinking, that of all the possible solutions, maybe there had been one where I didn’t have to lose you?”
The glow on Mobius’s finger intensified, and he felt the pressure increase, as if Loki were pressing harder. Mobius wished that he could reach out and take Loki’s hand, pull him through whatever hole in space-time he’d torn, and drag him here to the table.
That kind of thinking didn’t help either of them, though, and wasted what precious little time they had. So, he looked up, and smiled at his invisible friend.
“Ah, you didn’t come all the way here to hear me complain,” Mobius said, “it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve traveled around some, seen some games, some concerts. I tell you, you haven’t heard Dire Straights until you’ve heard them live in Toyko in 1985!” He chuckled. “You’ll like this one, I enjoyed the World’s Fair so much that I went back! Finally got to ride that huge Ferris wheel!”
“Tell me.”
Mobius didn’t miss the longing in Loki’s voice, and suddenly he felt bad for complaining. At least he had his freedom.
“Oh, it was great, except for the moment where I remembered that I’m kind of afraid of heights…”
He told Loki about the fair, then about his visit to Crater Lake, then about going to New York in 1923 to see the first game ever played in Yankee Stadium. In between he took bites of pie, and at one point he swore he saw a spectral green spoon flash across the dessert, taking a morsel along with it. It was the most normal he’d felt in months, and by the time the plate was empty, he had that same sense of contentment he’d have after a slice at the TVA.
The glow started to fade and flicker, and Mobius knew their time was coming to a close. He had no idea what this visit was costing Loki in terms of power or energy.
“Thank you, Loki,” Mobius said softly, “I really needed this.”
He waited patiently. Almost a minute later, he heard a quiet, “me, too.”
The glow disappeared from his fingertip, along with the physical sensation. Mobius finally pulled his finger back against his palm, feeling it ache from the long time extended. It was worth it though. A small price to pay to be connected to his friend.
He left the diner feeling lighter. As the sign’s green light flickered over his car, he realized he had a new sense of purpose—he wanted to go out and find things to tell Loki about, in case he dropped in again. He couldn’t have Loki put in all that effort into visiting, just for Mobius to have nothing to tell him except, “watched a bunch of reruns of M*A*S*H* and ate too much pizza.”
He walked past his rental car, and out into the almond grove. Once he was sure no one was looking, he pulled out his tempad and dialed in a set of coordinates. He’d always wanted to watch Mario Andretti win the 1971 South African Grand Prix. That would make a good story to tell Loki.