Chapter Text
Mobius hated the idea and loved it, simultaneously.
The time loop OB had constructed was an ‘empty’ memory, an impression of the room from when no one had been inside it.
It manifested for them a unique opportunity, essentially freezing time around Loki to the same few minutes, repeating over and over.
OB had explained it in a rush as they had wheeled Loki to the time theatre, a vial of that gold liquid from Nurse Andromeda having been slapped into Mobius’s hands for him to grip in case Loki’s vitals crashed again.
Loki was now hooked up and monitored in the deathly quiet but decidedly more spacious room, the air shifting subtly as the loop reset.
“Are we sure this is going to stabilise him? If the memory of the room replays, how does it affect Loki?” Mobius asked, fatigue dripping from his voice.
“I’m hashing out the details right now but my theory is, in this loop, what strength Loki does have can cling to this easy to grasp cyclical turn of time. He’s semi-lucid so we will have an idea very soon as to whether this is going to work,” OB rattled off the theory easily as Mobius struggled to keep up.
His hand was covering Loki’s, the pungent smell of blood starting to sting the air with its metallic twang.
Mobius closed his eyes, shaking the smell from his mind.
“And what if it doesn’t? What if he’s too weak?” Mobius murmured.
OB looked up from the clipboard and he had the same expression on his face that had stared at Mobius grievously as he had been struggling down the gangway, back when they weren’t sure if Loki would make it back.
But he had.
And he would now.
“This is as good as I’ve got Mobius,” OB said softly, “If we leave him in the quarters, its only a matter of hours before he crashes again, maybe even a shorter time than that.”
Mobius’s throat became thick, the pain of the lump being summoned by his stacked emotions making him feel choked.
“It’s our last chance, Mobius. I’m sorry but Loki is running out of time. We need the antidote to this Time Slash or he’s going to…”
Even OB, kind and logical and calm in a crisis, couldn’t finish the sentence.
Loki whimpered in his semi-conscious state, trying to turn over as a burst of pain appeared to crunch his body inwards. Mobius turned sharply, sliding his hand up from Loki’s to gently massage his shoulder, lost as to how to comfort him after their bittersweet argument.
There was no time to waste, he had to reunite with B-15 and Sylvie and find a solution.
Any other outcome was unacceptable.
…
Sylvie came down on Tempora’s forces like a ton of bricks.
His security squad were lethally armed, expensive, futuristic equipment snug in holsters at their hips. How the man had managed to curate a private detail this extravagant wasn’t surprising, given his wealth and notoriety but it damn well was a pain.
A pain that Sylvie was happy to soothe for their team.
The free-flowing, unstable rush of another Loki’s magic coursing through her veins made her feel manic and empowered all at once, as if she were hooked up to a mains and being charged past her battery capacity.
She could feel the seidr’s clashing within her, sparking off one another and the results of channelling the chaotic energy bursts was more than gratifying.
As the men flocked towards her and B-15, their minute men back-up swarmed in from the adjoining alleyways to the square, joining them in the fight.
Sylvie summoned roiling orbs of pulsating energy, the emerald magic twisting over itself like a maelstrom contained in a ball.
As the magic hit it’s marks, the unfortunate men it caught were vaporised, their screams nothing more than a contrite, compressed scream; it was like hearing a balloon scream out the air as you stepped on it.
In the back of her mind was Loki’s deathly pale skin and Mobius’s panic-stricken, grief-weighted eyes.
They hadn’t survived the end of everything just for the two hopeless romantics to be torn apart by such a violent death. She secretly still cursed Loki’s impulsive move but couldn’t say that she wouldn’t have made the same decision. She may not have had the privilege of having someone to love so deeply, yet, but she knew that something like that was precious to those who could afford it.
B-15 landed a dynamic punch and kick combo on a security guard that got too close, flooring the inexperienced man with her TVA training. Formidable would be how Sylvie would describe her, giving her a wink as she threw a bolt of green, ecstatically moving energy towards a man creeping up on them.
His plasma pistol clattered to the tarmac with a rattle as his body fell apart into green sparks and smoke, remnants of his clothing still smoking on the gravel.
B-15 swept a wrist over her sweating brow and grinned at Sylvie, finding a similar wicked delight in putting the guards in their place.
There was the zip and pop of a Time door appearing to her left and Sylvie vaulted herself over the shoulders of a running guard, flipping acrobatically to land behind him and vaporise him before he could turn his gun on Mobius who emerged from the glowing orange portal.
“How are we doing?” Mobius shouted over the chaos.
His weary eyes went straight to the electrical pulsing tendrils climbing Sylvie’s arms and she dismissed the concern in his eyes.
“I’m having a great time,” she said plainly and formed two glowing daggers from the seidr running down into her fingers.
The daggers were swiftly thrown and lodged into the guts of two oncoming enemies and their abdomens burned away slowly.
Mobius cringed but allowed the slaughter to continue until the forces of Tempora were nothing but a scattered flock of fretting humans looking to each other in confused, conflicted terror.
Sylvie took the lead, strolling up to the captain of the guard they had strategically spared.
Her fist grasped his shirt front and his brown eyes blew wide with fear as her superior strength, fed by the excess magic, lifted him off his feet.
“Bring Tempora to us,” Sylvie hissed, eyes glowing, “And I let you live. Possibly.”
The threat landed heavily and the man nodded erratically.
He was shaking so badly Sylvie wondered with a cringe whether he was going to let his bladder go.
B-15 and Mobius flanked her, the minute men arresting the remaining forces of Tempora.
Sylvie dropped the sweating, shaking human and he scuttled back to the building, nearly tripping over his own feet.
“Right,” Sylvie breathed, shaking out her trembling limbs, “We’ll see if this drags Tempora out to face the proverbial music. How was Loki?”
The look Mobius gave her wasn’t encouraging.
“OB had to revive him,” Mobius said, his voice weak, “We’ve moved him into a time loop within one of the theatres, to see if we can…keep him in limbo.”
“Like a coma?” B-15 frowned deeply.
“Not really…” Mobius dragged his hands down his face, “He needs to be somewhat awake to be able to manipulate time. If he can control a small environment of looped time, he may be able to stall the bleeding of the Time Slash. It hasn’t stopped since OB brought him back…”
”Fuck…” B-15 sighed.
“Yeah…” Mobius exhaled shakily.
“If he doesn’t come out then we go in and get Tempora,” Sylvie said, her resolve as solid as diamond, “He has to come out eventually.”
“He hides inside a pocket outside of time,” Mobius said, beginning to pace, “If he decides to stay there and hunker down then Loki is….Loki’s…”
Sylvie put a glowing hand on his shoulder, careful to reign in the seidr so it didn’t toast his jacket and set him alight.
“Mobius, we will find a way,” Sylvie said, “And I now have the power of two Lokis.”
“Yeah…you’re looking a little green. Does it not…hurt?” Mobius said, face pinched with worry.
“No,” Sylvie lied.
“Sylvie-“
“Worry about Loki first,” Sylvie dismissed, “I can handle this.”
“Guys,” B-15 turned and pointed.
The atmosphere rippled.
The square became warped and distorted, colours bleeding and running and a tear ripped open in the fabric of reality.
From within it, there was a glimpse of Tempora’s study and the man himself stepped out, barely concealing his quiet rage.
The weapon in his grasp was the Time Knife, the sickly nausea that the blade put out hitting Mobius in waves, in primal memory.
“Agent Mobius,” Tempora said tightly, “You’re looking…well.”
“It’s over Tempora,” Mobius said, “The TVA have the place surrounded.”
“How curious it is that Mr. Laufeyson isn’t with you,” Tempora ignored his declaration, “I’m right to assume that he managed to find a solution to your injury, aren’t I?”
Mobius stared at him, loathing rolling off of him towards the mad man.
Tempora’s eyes then found Sylvie, drawn by the horns on her head, her dress that was subtly torn from fighting and the pulsating, green ropes of seidr wrapped around her forearms.
“Ah, another Loki,” he said shortly, “How interesting. You don’t seem to be in short supply, now do you?”
”By the order of the Time Variance Authority,” B-15 stepped forward, putting herself between Tempora and Mobius and Sylvie, “I am arresting you for crimes against the safe flow of multiversal time and for attempted murder of a TVA agent.”
Tempora laughed and the sound rattled up Mobius’s spine, his tone cold and devoid of much else, never mind any humor. His quiet rage was quite the spectacle and it set Mobius’s teeth on edge.
“I suppose I have no choice in the matter,” Tempora said.
On cue, the minutemen that had apprehended Tempora’s entourage reappeared with their time sticks alight, spilling through the orange portals.
“No,” B-15 smiled back coldly, “You’re coming with us.”
…
Sylvie clutched a hold of the seidr of the dead Loki variant. She felt a horribly personal attachment to it, like it was a kindred spirit attaching itself to her essence, clinging for a body to remain in.
As she walked through the halls of the TVA, aiming to meet up with Mobius in Loki’s time theatre-turned hospital room, she kept being plagued by flashes of images through her mind’s eye.
A Loki that was identical to their TVA Loki was visible to her when the memories she was assaulted with showed a reflection, caught just for a moment. L-9045 had longer hair that was braided at the sides and a deep emerald suit that was luxurious and exceptionally over-the-top.
The memories were told from his perspective and as Sylvie began to stumble through the hallway, the images coming faster and faster, she got closer to the moment where L-9045 had been betrayed.
She had reached Loki’s door just as she fell to her knees and Casey’s voice called out to her, thick with worry, as she blacked out.
…
“Mobius!”
Mobius snapped round from where he was bent over Loki’s bed, trying to tip a small cup of water to Loki’s parched lips.
Casey had Sylvie in his arms, struggling to bring her through the door without touching the crackling magic climbing her arms and starting to overtake her neck.
“Shit…what’s happened!?” Mobius set Loki’s water down.
“…Sylvie?” Loki whispered from his bed, attempting to sit.
“Lay down Loki, I’ve got her,” Mobius calmed him and he charged over to help Casey.
Casey gripped under Sylvie’s arms and Mobius took her legs, bringing her to lay down beside Loki’s hospital bed.
“I’ve asked Medical to bring another one up,” Casey said, sweating profusely, nodding to the bed.
Mobius wiped a bead of sweat away as it ran down the back of his neck. B-15 was in the holding cell, overseeing Tempora’s detainment.
OB was buried under stats and data as he tried to analyse the Time Knife that had been seized from Tempora under threat of pruning.
Mobius and Casey were on their own with two critically ill sorcerers.
All Mobius could think to do was calm Casey down, talking to him quietly as they waited the ten painstaking minutes it took for the medical staff to bring Sylvie's bed into the time loop.
With the help of the medical staff, Sylvie’s unconcious form was safely lifted into her hospital bed and Mobius carefully removed the crown from her head, setting it onto a wheely bed tray.
Loki was lucid, eyes straining open.
“Sylvie,” he said breathily, “That power…”
“She absorbed L-9045’s power from the Temporal Device,” Mobius said gravely, “I don’t know what it’s doing to her, Casey found her outside on her way to meet us in here.”
Mobius’s pulse was thundering, the dizzying swell of his blood pressure making his vision blur. He rested back against the side of Loki’s bed, trying to get a grip of himself.
Casey hovered over Sylvie’s bed, his mouse-like, innocent eyes trying to work out which of his friends to worry over first.
Loki’s clammy palm touched Mobius’s hand.
“Are you okay?” he said.
“No,” Mobius shook his head, “This has all gone so wrong. We have Tempora in custody and I don’t know if he’s going to talk. I don’t know how long it will take to analyse the Time Knife to save you…”
Mobius looked at Sylvie.
“And now Syl’s hurt too,” Mobius’s voice weakened, becoming unstable and upset, “If I’d told you the truth, we could’ve prepared better for Tempora. I wouldn’t have gotten stabbed and then you-“
Mobius’s voice cut off with a gruff cough, covering the break in his voice.
Loki’s grip grew stronger, as much pressure as his tired muscles would allow in his state.
Mobius turned to look at him and his face broke.
Mobius wasn’t a crier, but his eyes moistened, the impression of tears stinging his eyes.
“You’re doing all you can…” Loki whispered.
“All I can do, is not good enough,” Mobius replied sadly.
“It is for me,” Loki sighed softly.
Mobius forced a smile for his lover, but Loki’s pallor made it impossible to maintain. At the end of the day, he was a human analyst and it wouldn’t take much analysis to conclude that he was royally screwed, with no way to assist either Loki or Sylvie.
Mobius looked to the latter.
Casey was also staring at her arms, the green magic lighting up her veins so they showed through her skin, like neon spiderwebs.
“Is it going to kill her?” Casey furrowed his brow, his voice small.
“We don’t know what Tempora has done to L-9045’s seidr,” Mobius sighed, “It’s either that or just the overwhelm is exhausting her.”
“Both,” Loki croaked.
“Huh? What was that, Loki?” Mobius called softly, looking over his shoulder.
“It could be both,” Loki said, “Absorbing another’s seidr could be overwhelming her and she will be fine if she relinquishes the power. But it also could be bastardised.”
“So what can we do?” Mobius asked gently, “Could we…hold on.”
“What?” Casey’s eyes lit up.
“Are you strong enough to absorb some of the seidr?” Mobius turned to Loki, “Enough for her to wake up but not to hurt you?”
Loki smiled, having had the exact same thought. Mobius absorbed that tender, hopeful and fond expression, feeling as if they were back on the same page again.
“Yes,” Loki said, “I can try.”
“Is it safe?” Casey asked, worrisomely.
“A dose of the magic used to make the Time Knife, in a purer form-“
“-Could theoretically challenge what is looping the wound that is killing me,” Loki finished Mobius’s sentence, “If I can control it, Sylvie and I have a much better chance.”
Mobius inhaled deeply and nodded, “Okay, Loki. Okay. We’ll try it.”
Mobius pointed to Casey, “Casey can yoy please help me pull Sylvie closer to Loki?”
“On it,” Casey replied and Mobius reluctantly parted from Loki so the beds could sit next to one another.
Loki stretched his arm out for Sylvie and his fingers grazed her palm. Mobius lifted Sylvie’s arm, helping Loki to reach her hand. As the God of Stories clasped Sylvie’s hand in his, there was a vibrant pulse of light.
“Break a leg,” Mobius whispered, wishing them luck with every fibre of his anxiety-wracked self.
Loki and Sylvie’s bodies reacted with a jerk, Sylvie spasming like a stringless puppet and Loki cringing in pain.
Mobius watched in quiet fear as the green veins crossed from Sylvie’s hand to Loki’s, both the God and Goddess alight with the deceased Loki Variant’s stolen magic.
The light pulsed, their skin glowing, emerald emanating from their hands.
All Casey and Mobius could do was watch on as Loki enacted a final play for his life, and attempted to save Sylvie, in what very well could be their last moments.