Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

B-15 was strolling purposefully past Mobius's desk, on a completely separate errand when she was side-lined by the analyst and the perculiar circumstances she found him in.
The Loki Variant, jaded and aggressive, expert manipulator and liar, was slumped against Mobius's right side, eyes closed. His face was devoid of tension, arms crossed clumsily over his middle and he snored lightly.
Mobius was pouring over some notes, seemingly non-plussed or unaware that the dangerous variant was napping on him.
B-15 coughed.
Mobius glanced up, careful not to disturb Loki. B-15 smiled slowly, and nodded to the variant slumped against her colleague.
"Your project is nearly drooling on your shoulder."
Mobius smiled slightly, the motion peeking out from behind his moustache. She watched, bamboozled, as he snaked an arm around Loki's waist, holding him upright when the God shifted sleepily.
"He's tired," Mobius said, "All the paperwork will get to ya."
"You and I both know this isn't anything to do with paperwork," B-15 gestured between the two of them, "This is more than that, Mobius. What are you thinking?"
She lowered her voice, soft but serious, leaning over the divider between the cubicle and the open floor.
Mobius frowned, fingers resting against Loki's side. Raven hair spilt over Mobius's shoulder and Loki grumbled a sleep-fuddled noise that sounded something like, "Oh piss off, Thor.".
Mobius laughed reflexively and B-15s face softened.
"Mobius," she said, "What's going on?"
Mobius sighed, staring at her pleadingly. Did the inscrutible hunter have to be so intuitive? Or was he really that obvious with his affection for Loki, rather than cloaking it mysteriously beneath exaggerated kindness?
"You went through his file, became an expert on all things Loki," B-15 continued, probing deeper, "...And fell for him?"
Mobius bit into his lip, hiding it behind a disgruntled bunch of his moustache and deep furrow of his brow.
"Nah, it's just...I'm compassionate in my old age. Variant in need, variant turned colleague...please, just.."
"What?"
"Between us," Mobius said quietly, "I'm a bit fond of him, okay? Just keep that here, like I never said anything."
B-15 nodded in understanding, "Mobius, I think you're worrying too much. Clearly, he's fond of you too. Just be careful."
She smiled tightly, unsure and sauntered away, leaving Mobius rife with nerves and his agitation stirring Loki as if telepathically beaming his thoughts to the sleeping god's mind.
Mobius carefully retracted his arm from around Loki but didn't have the heart to cease touching him completely. He rested his hand on Loki's left knee, gripping gently as Loki wobbled themselves awake.
Loki blinked twice; he looked to Mobius easing a crick from his stiff neck.
"Sorry, I passed out, and I just- Was I..."
The God trailed off, face falling but flushing beet red. Mobius looked on in shock, having never seen the cream pallour of Loki's skin colour so deeply before in person.
Mobius had seen the God flustered on one other occasion within the depths of his thousand-year file. A beautiful woman had approached Loki at an Asgardian ball, asking them to dance. Her oak skin had been dusted with gold glitter and her silver braids had trailed down her back. Her charming smile had disarmed the God of Mischief and coloured his face fuschia.
Mobius felt as though he wasn't a match for other-worldly beauty, but he took the gift of Loki feeling comfort in his present for what it was.
"I-" Loki fumbled for words again, rod-straight in his own chair now.
Mobius squeezed his hand around Loki's knee once and let go.
"It's okay," he soothed, "You were tired, I let you sleep."
"On you..."
Mobius shrugged, "At your service your majesty."
The joke brought a stuttering laugh to Loki's lips and the God pulled at his shirt, tidying himself up subconciously. Loki smoothened down their hair and he kept his eyes on Mobius.
Mobius realised then that he'd turned his leg and their feet were touching.
"Back to work?" Mobius distracted Loki half-heartedly

Chapter Text

Later that day, Mobius retired to the pie room, Loki in tow.
The God was practically skipping, spritely on his lithe legs and jumping circles around Mobius as he theorised animatedly about their newest lead on the He who Remains variants.
Loki pulled out Mobius's chair as they found their usual table, the only people on the automat at all.
Everyone else seemed to congregate near the chocolate pies but Mobius loved Key Lime; Loki was happy to follow him to whichever was his choosing, he wasn't there for the pie.
Mobius had had a small smile playing on his lips all afternoon, soft blue eyes watching Loki with a puzzling affection. It had made Loki's insides feel like liquid, his chest blooming with heat and the impossible-to-resist urge of needing to stay close to Mobius.
Beneath the table, Loki's leg leant against Mobius's and as he passed Mobius a fork, the God let their fingers touch, lingering purposefully. Mobius caught on and hooked his index finger, catching Loki's in a swift and calculated grab.
He smiled tenderly, "Gotcha."
Loki sputtered a laugh, eyes crinkling and cheeks hurting from the stretch of his smile. Mobius let him go and started to eat quietly.
He filled Loki in intermittently on what leads they had so far, a completely separate aberration and an exciting new soda he'd heard a shifty Minuteman talking about having stolen from the timeline.
Loki listened to him talk, head cocked to the side. Loki thought they could've listened to Mobius whitter on for years about niceities and inconveniences.
He had not felt such a deep sense of peace before waking up, head against Mobius, the dubious feeling of contact lingering on his side. Mobius had been warm and smelt of old books, cocoa and lime.
His grey hairs at the base of his neck had been fairer, nearly white and his skin varying in colour where blushes appeared, his mortal body thriving and comfortable despite a God of Lies resting upon him.
He'd had half the mind to tip his face up press his lips against Mobius's cheek, convinced in his sleep-laden state, that he'd woken up in the arms of a lover somewhere back on Asgard.
Tuning into the fact that it was the TVA and he was embraced by Mobius, Loki had learned several truths about the universe in one splitting moment.
Mobius trusted him, Mobius wanted him around.
Loki was deeply, ridiculously in love with a timeless midguardian.
"Good pie?" His words come out choked as he remembered how far into the deep end he was.
"Excellent pie, as always," Mobius smiled, "Remind me to show you the greasy chips and fish they do on Brighton beach circa 1983. Great time to have missions in."
By missions, he meant foody sidequests.
Loki's smile lines deepened as he grinned.
"You were really knocked out earlier," Mobius said, with a bashful restlessness to his eyes, "Do you need a rest? Borrow my apartment?"
Loki was lost for words for a moment. He'd never seen Mobius's living space. He wondered what knick knacks the analyst had hidden away, what collections his dear friend was proud of.
"Yes, thank you," he said softly.

Chapter Text

Mobius popped his head into the bedroom once Loki had pulled on some loose bottoms and an oversized T-shirt.
Mobius smirked.
"What are you looking at?" Loki raised their eyebrows.
"I've not seen you this casual before," Mobius chuckled, pleased with himself.
"And so-"
"You look comfortable," Mobius said, "Its nice to see."
Granted, it wasn't the crinkling rigidity of a suit and not the itchy rustle of the TVA uniforms.
"You're lucky they keep spares," Mobius smiled.
Loki sat heavily on the sparse single bed and looked at Mobius expectantly.
"What are you up to then?" Loki asked.
"Going to finish up these copies, grab a coffee and then wander back up here, make sure you're alright."
"I'm always alright."
Loki felt his heart swell as Mobius's lips crept into a grin, "Yeah, okay. I'll be up anyway. Can't have you finding anymore trouble."
"I'm not going to time slip again Mobius."
Mobius wandered over to him. And perched on a stool that sat next to the bedside table that was crammed with Mobius's loose papers, a strange diary with a handless clock on it and an empty Kit Kat wrapper.
Loki noticed cardboard boxes shoved under the gap in the futuristic wardrobe of one way glass.
How much stuff did Mobius have?
Loki was distracted when Mobius reached out and brushed a large curl of black hair back from Loki's face, tucking it behind his ear.
"Even Gods need to sleep sometime, surely," Mobius said, "Okay, Loki?"
Loki's mouth was dry, he tried to wet his lips to speak. A nervous laugh jumped out of his mouth and he tried to reign in the sheer bluster that erupted from him.
Mobius touched him again, brushing his thumb against Loki's hair and untucking the strands caught in his shirt collar.
"Rest," Mobius ordered, "I'll see you later."
Loki watched Mobius leave, unable to voice the desperate clawing urge to ask him to stay and talk with him, his calming prescence leaving a vaccuum in its absence.
Nevertheless, Loki lay down and attempted to sleep.

Loki was roused by the feeling of fingers in his hair. Someone was massaging his scalp, their fingers detangling locks of his hair and brushing through it, sending shivers down his spine from where the sensitive skin responded to the person's touch.
Loki tried to pull themselves from sleep but the feeling of being touched, the affectionate and dream-inducing peace the touches gave him, sent him straight back into slumber.
He roused again after what felt like years, the dream of Asgard fading away.
When they opened their eyes, Loki saw Mobius sitting beside the bed reading a paper from the 1950s.
Loki huffed a laugh and Mobius looked up, smiling.
"What? We dont have a TVA newspaper," he said.
He set it aside and laced his fingers together in his lap.
"You okay? Sleep well?"
Loki looked at him quizzically, face soft and feeling vulnerable. He was dressed in probably the most unflattering garb he'd ever worn and Mobius was looking at him as if he were made of gold.
"Were you...were you touching my hair earlier?" He questioned, embarassed at having to even bring it up.
Mobius looked away bashfully, cheeks colouring as he chuckled gently.
"You were a bit restless," Mobius said, "I don't know why I know this, but it calms people down. Must be something from my life, long time ago."
Loki frowned and reached out taking Mobius's hand. He squeezed it firmly.
"Thank you," Loki said.
Mobius kept a hold of his hand, locking eyes with Loki.
"Come here," he nodded and stood up.
Loki got to their feet carefully, confused, until Mobius had his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
Loki closed his eyes, tilting his head down onto Mobius's shoulder and gripping his back.
"Just let me know whenever you need a time out," Mobius whispered, "Okay, Loki?"
Loki said nothing, moving his face into the curve of Mobius's neck and breathing deeply. The sense of calm he felt was intoxicating, he wanted to live in it forever. Mobius stroked his back in slow motions, holding him securely.
Loki's mind ran rampant: I love you, I love you, I love-
Mobius clapped him on the back once and then drew back, holding him by the arms.
"Sure you're alright? That was a long hug. Nice, and long," Mobius said jovially.
"I just...I think I've needed that for a long time. I think you already know I haven't recieved many in my life."
Mobius frowned slightly, "I can make up for that."
Loki smiled, eyes watering. Mobius had hugged him twice now and he wanted more. He had no objections to remedying his touch-starved existence at the hands of the gentle TVA analyst.
That and-
"You keep going vacant on me, Loki," Mobius said, worriedly.
His palm was cupping Loki's cheek, thumb brushing a gentle line from the corner of his nose to his cheek bone.
Loki was bewitched, utterly befuddled by the midguardian that held him with no fear, no loathing, no agitation.
"Mobius," he said softly, "I-"
"Yeah?" Mobius dropped his hand.
Loki mourned the touch immediately. He reached out and took Mobius's hand in his.
Mobius looked at him, puzzled and his lips perked at the corners.
"I've wanted to say that I-"
A knock made Loki jump, his eyes glaring daggers at the door as he dropped Mobius's hand. Mobius answered the door and B-15 entered, eyebrows raised.
"What." Loki deadpanned, furious they'd been interrupted.
"Red alert on the Kang Variants," B-15 said, eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on her lips, "Branch Timeline, 1700s, Earth, France."
"On it," Mobius nodded and he cocked his head in the direction of the door.
"I'm...not dressed," Loki protested.
Mobius gasped a laugh. "Right."
B-15 looked between the two of them, suspiciously.
"Give us ten minutes," Mobius said pleasantly.
"Hurry," B-15 said and closed the door with a swift click of the lock.
Mobius laughed again, rubbing his brow.
"Sorry, I'll give you some privacy," he smiled at Loki, "See you out there."
Loki watched him retreat, heart rate increasing at the prospect of facing a He Who Remains Variant and the uncertain events that could've taken place had he and Mobius been alone a moment longer.

Chapter Text

It was 1753 to be exact.
Loki was dressed to the nines, luxurious velvet in deep, bottle green, dramatic ruffles and his hair lengthed by magic into a stylised french braid with curls of midnight hair dusting his ears.
He had conjured Mobius's dress shirt and coat in a decadent royal blue, very outlandish and dramatic for the humble analyst. His waistcoat was ornate and almost appeared to have clocks embroidered onto it.
Mobius laughed gently, "It's lovely, thank you."
Loki tucked Mobius's cravat carefully, the sky blue silk sitting fetchingly amongst the rest of the outfit.
"Very smart," Loki nodded, "Moiseur Mobius."
"Merci, mon coeur," Mobius's eyes softened, "Tu est belle."
The delicate tone of Mobius's words, and the fact he called him 'my love', set something on fire in Loki's chest and he forgot their mission for a blazing moment.
Loki took Mobius's hand and led him into a large ballroom where the french aristocrats were laughing jovially and swaying to orchestral music. Loki pulled Mobius against him, summoning all knowledge of Asgardian dances to his mind and securing an arm around Mobius's waist.
"What-"
"I'm going to dance with you," Loki said, "I'm assuming you know how I liked to dance on Asgard."
"Yes," Mobius nodded, a breezy laugh poorly disguising the fluster.
Mobius had always been direct and casual with his affection and the dramatic shift of their togetherness was a whole new world that Loki was desperate to navigate. Now it held a very deep meaning that Mobius couldnt hide behind friendliness or guidance and Loki was thrilled, siezing the opportunity to open the new chapter.
Loki's arm around Mobius's waist tightened but remained intimate and comfortable, his fingers laced with Mobius's. Mobius lay his hand against Loki's shoulder, brushing their long french plait admiringly.
The orchestral music swelled and they seemlessly joined the couples within the ballroom. Any pretence that they were on a mission fell away without B-15s watchful eyes on them and Loki barely remembered to keep his eyes peeled for He Who Remains variants.
Mobius was looking at him, really looking at him deeply, nothing to say for once slipping between his lips. Lips that were large and lovely in their shape, the dent of his nose a curious and endearing feature on the middle-aged man.
Loki found themselves admiring every detail of Mobius's face, comitting the features to memory where they lived in exquisite detail within their god's mind.
Mobius was in his own world, eyes locked with Loki's, a different expression stuck to his face rather than the speculative "what fuckery are you going to pull next, Loki?" tired expression he sometimes wore, or the amused, endearing smile Loki loved so much.
They spun lightly and Loki was vaguely aware that some guests were watching them and whispering, some of the women ultimately looking very jealous of Mobius swaying in Loki's arms.
Several men also looked sincerely envious and many of them seemed to be admiring Mobius. Loki possessively drew Mobius against his chest fully.
This was their time, time they could steal just for a moment outside of  their life or death, time or nothingness mission.
Loki rarely had moments where he could relax, where being a god melted away and they were just a person.
He wanted to spend those moments with Mobius, just being.
Mobius looked entranced, gazing at him, moustache twitching in the funny way that it did when he was thinking deeply and Loki pondered what could be going through Mobius's mind as they did another spin, Loki's feet effortlessly dancing the steps and leading them gracefully between other couples.
"Are you okay?" Loki asked eventually.
"Yeah, I'm good, best I've ever been," Mobius breathed, "You're an...incredible dancer."
"You're not bad yourself," Loki murmured.
Loki's hand graduated from Mobius's waist to the small of his back and crept upwards. As it moved, caressing Mobius's back, Mobius leant closer, shrinking what little gap remained between them until they were nose to nose, the only two in their own little bubble.
1753, far from the loom and the universe ending calamity on their hands, Loki of Asgard took the midguardian spinning around the room, achingly close to one another as something resonated between the two of them, unspoken.
"You know, I've never thought you liked hurting others, not really," Mobius said, starry-eyed, "I don't think I've said thats why I took the chance on you."
"A genius call of course," Loki said, "I am a god after all."
"That's not why, and you know that," Mobius said, "You're much more than just a god. You're my friend for starters."
Friend...
Loki decided to challenge that. Friends did not look at friends like they wanted to take a bite out of him.
"I'm anything you want me to be, Mobius," Loki said.
Mobius's chest tigthened, Loki feeling the catch of his breath against his own body. They slid their hand down again to the small of Mobius's back. A cellist was tearing up a beautiful solo, the deep thrumming of the strings blossoming into a tune that tweaked Loki's memories of Asgard.
Without trying, an illusion that only Mobius and Loki could see bloomed around the room, unfurling like the petals of a field of flowers.
The green of Loki's magic sizzled away in bright sparkles, having transformed the french ballroom into the sun-drenched corridor of the Asgardian palace.
It was open to the air, the water beyond the balcony and grass bank surrounding the palace sparkling where sunlight shattered off of its surface.
Gold buildings were iridescent where the city spilt into the emerald hills and Mobius looked around in pure wonder and amazement.
Loki directed them through the steps of the dance, though they now drifted over the tan and cream stones of the palace. The other couples and the orchestra now appeared to be dancing on the banks and within the corridor, the illusion somewhat rippling when a couple drifted through a pillar, as if they were ghosts.
"Asgard," Mobius said, "Loki, you-"
"No one else can see it," Loki whispered, "Just us."
The music continued, sweeping Loki and Mobius away with it. Mobius's eyes briefly took in their Asgardian surroundings but ultimately, they were drawn back to Loki.
As the music slowed to a gentle conclusion, Loki dipped Mobius and leaned down, letting his mouth drift over Mobius's ear. His warm breath broke Mobius, who released his hand to cup his face.
"Welcome to Asgard, Mobius."
Appaluse was resonating through the ballroom-turned-Asgard illusion and the palace and hills began to fade away. Loki made a mental note to find some way to convince Mobius to take a real detour to Asgard one day. There had to be a way without causing a rupture in the timelines by running into his former self...
When Asgard had faded away and the ache that came with it blossomed, Loki remedied the situation, drawing Mobius back against him as another dance began.
The analyst had other ideas.

Chapter Text

Mobius absconded from the ball, pulling Loki with him, drawing him into the garden of the luscious french palace.
"No variants inside," he lied, smiling mischievously.
A large, ochre moon hung amongst billions of stars, no light pollution in the 1700s to dim their shine.
Mobius pulled Loki behind a fluffy-leafed hedge and encircled his waist with his arms.
Loki was the one to catch his breath this time.
"What are you-"
"Nuh uh. It's my turn to try this and I'm not going to time-slip away."
Loki waited patiently.
"There's something I have to tell you, Loki," Mobius said softly, "Because I've been lying to you."
Loki's careful composure cracked, the flirtatiousness replaced by concern. Realisation dawned on him as Mobius refused to release his gaze, eyes sparkling in the dark.
"Lying to you because it's not just the TVA. The TVA isn't what I want," Mobius said, taking a huge breath for courage, "You are."
"You are why I stay, I don't need my timeline, don't need the life I can’t have back, anyway. I'm happy here. Doing these missions, following these leads, just with you."
Loki wanted to cry and he nearly did. His eyes spontaneously teared up and he suddenely felt the fool for thinking he had siezed control of the developing romantic situation they had found themselves in.
Most importantly, he felt a deep and overwhelming sense of being loved.
"I like it," Mobius smiled, echoing his words from the automat, "because the TVA brought me to you. That's why I stay."
"But you-"
Mobius shook his head, "Don't even start, Loki. Don't ruin my big moment."
Loki huffed a laugh and closed his eyes as Mobius's calloused palm touched his face. He remembered the feeling of Mobius's fingers in his hair, at his waist, touching his cheek, pressing gently against his arm.
"Kiss me," Loki blurted, "Please, Mobius."
Mobius obliged; his lips captured Loki's strongly, parting and kissing again, mouths interlocking over and over as Loki responded like a thirsty man finding an oasis. Mobius was warm and comforting, grey and beige and everything you would think would turn the God of Mischief away. Loki engulfed him, arms tangling messily, losing the poise and propriety of a prince dancing with his suitor and rumpling Mobius's dress coat as he clutched at him.
Mobius was breathing heavily, kissing Loki greedily, with the hunger of a man who had never been fed and was tasting a banquet.
His fingers took Loki's careful braid apart, brushing through their hair with care and brushing the nape of their neck. Loki gasped against Mobius's mouth and his breath was shaking, overcome with emotion, never touched with such affection before.
"I love you," Mobius said then and Loki's knees almost gave out.
Mobius steadied him, smiling with a sliver of triumph.
"You really-"
"Yeah, course I do. I think I've loved you for a very long time, Loki. Its taken me a while to work it out but now you know."
"But I'm...I'm-"
Mobius finished for him, "You're Loki. And I care about you. No matter what you think, okay?"
"Oh Mobius," Loki said, eyes soft, "Gods...I love you too."
He kissed Mobius again, nearly tripping them both into a rose bush. Mobius gripped Loki's waist, securing him to the earth like the force of mavity.
"Woah there, pussycat," Mobius murmured teasingly, pressing his fingers into Loki's lower back.
Loki could scarcely contain the urge to pin Mobius to the grass and his hands climbed Mobius's back again, pressing close as he kissed his lips. He touched him, feeling the soft skin and small hairs at the nape of his neck.
Loki wanted to stay in Mobius's arms forever, drown in the freely given affection, bask in the glow that was Mobius wanting him for more than just his body or his skills.
"I love you," Loki whispered again.
"I know, doll," Mobius murmured.
"No you don't, you have no idea," Loki's voice was a breathy whisper, his night chilled hands sending prickles of a shiver down Mobius's back.
"Then tell me," Mobius kissed his lips over and over, smaller pecs that drove Loki further into his arms, pressing them into a low wall.
"You saved me, you changed my life...Mobius I love you more than words-"
Mobius kissed him harder pulling Loki to the grass by his cravat.
The analyst entwined them in the grass, decidedly ruining their suits with stains and dew. Mobius didn't care nearly as much as Loki did about suits.
He was concentrated on the silky mess of Loki's midnight hair spilling over his shoulders, lengthened by magic and tickling his face as Loki lay atop him, curled around him the garden of this home in Versailles.
In Mobius's long, memory-stripped life, he hadn't ever experienced such close contact, nevermind such a deep romantic attraction.
Sure he'd felt butterflies watching the God of Mischief through a projector, watching him spin and twist and fight but it was nothing like having TVA Loki, soft at the edges, craving affection and Mobius being more than willing to make him feel as special as he deserved.
The beautiful God of Mischief.
Mobius's lips were beginning to tire and bruise when a stranger stumbled over them in the dark, coughing nervously as he took in the tangle of lovers in the grass.
Loki was on his feet, his absence a glacial vacancy.
Mobius jumped up and dusted himself off, close to Loki and protectively resting a hand on the small of his back.
He suppressed a smirk at the state of the God's hair and his flushed cheeks, noting the deep and troubled frown on Loki's face.
Mobius pressed closer to him and looked back into the eyes of the man who had stumbled over them, clad in purple extravagent french fashion.
"So sorry Gentleman, I didn't quite see you there on this lovely evening. My apologies," the variant blushed, deep rose tones flushing his oaken skin.
His polite smile was disarming but Mobius could feel the charge of emerald magic pulsing at Loki's fingertips.
Without speaking, Loki slipped in front of Mobius, shielding him.
Mobius touched the crook of Loki's arm.
"Easy," he said softly.
"No problem whatsoever," Loki said carefully, "If you could excuse my partner and I."
Mobius internally shrieked at the use of the word partner and focused on the mission at hand that they had flagrantly abandoned in favour of romping in the grass.

Chapter Text

B-15 and her team emerged from the time door and the He Who Remains variant was promptly dealt with.
Mobius tried his best not to remember the confusion in the variant's eyes as his mind was promptly wiped and he was relocated to a gentle life outside of the french city where the TVA could monitor him.
No point in pruning when he hadn't turned genocidal, at least not yet.
Mobius was aware of B-15s scrutiny, her keen eyes pinning Mobius and Loki with a look as Loki flourished his hand and their french ball garments turned back to their usual TVA garb.
Most notably, she was openly staring at Mobius's hand resting on Loki's hip. Mobius smiled knowingly at her and B-15 suppressed her fears, offering a genuine smile and a wink whilst Loki was distracted.

Back in Mobius's quarters, Loki had lazily spread himself out on the bed, tie undone and discarded, dress shirt for work unbuttoned at the collar. His hair was shoulder length again and Mobius admired them as he carefully put his own jacket away, opting to lounge around in his shirt too.
All bets were off, their closeness having erupted into the confession within the french countryside.
Mobius smiled softly as he approached the bed and sat beside Loki, the God's eyes waning sleepily with the excitement of the day.
"Mobius," Loki said softly, eyes heavy lidded with approaching slumber.
"Yeah Loki?"
"Thank you," Loki murmured, "For everything."
Their fingers curled around Mobius's knee and the TVA analyst reached for the God who had pinched his bed and gently pushed his fingers into Loki's hair, combing through it in affectionate, long strokes.
"No need, Loki," Mobius shook his head, "No need to thank me."
Loki mumbled something unintelligible, easing off to sleep without resistance.
"I love you, Loki," Mobius whispered reassuringly as Loki gripped his knee.
Eased, comforted and relaxing like a deflating balloon, Loki fell into a sound sleep as Mobius sat beside him, all pretense of a professional partnership gone, his fingers massaging Loki's scalp and brushing through his hair with deep affection.

Loki was woken by a kiss, the gentle press of lips to his cheekbone. The sensation made a sunburst flare in his chest, so overwhelming that he teared up as he gained consciousness.
Mobius was sat beside him, right where he'd promised he'd be. He appeared sleep rumpled, as if he'd slept in the chair and Loki decided that simply wouldn't do.
His hands found Mobius's shoulders and eased the analyst down to lay beside him, running his fingers down Mobius's arm.
"Comfy," Mobius remarked.
"Isn't it just," Loki purred, "Come here."
He pressed himself against Mobius, vowing to enjoy every turning second of the gentle analysts affections.
Mobius's arms wound around his narrow waist, securing them together.
He smiled, achingly happy as Mobius's moustache quirked with the force of the grin on his face.
His thumb stroked across Loki's cheek and the god sighed.
"This is all I ever wanted," he admitted.
His face was unbearably soft, vulnerability laid bare for Mobius to read in his eyes.
The trust Loki gave him was worth more than the multiverse.
Mobius couldnt resist and placed a soft kiss on Loki's lips, lingering there, longing out the press of contact. Loki, eyes closed, hummed at the feel of Mobius's lips meeting his, facial hair scratching his nose.
"Its so good to see you smiling," he said quietly, "Proper smiling, not that mischievous smirk, mind you."
"Well, you can thank a TVA analyst with a heart of gold for that," Loki's voice was a low rumble, fingers straightening Mobius's collar pedantically.
Mobius smiled, capturing Loki's hand. He squeezed his fingers and Loki clung to him, starry eyed and smiling tenderly at him.
"I've never seen you like this before," Mobius murmured.
"Like what?"
"Like this. Relaxed, happy, looking at someone...the way you're looking at me right now."
Loki propped himself up on an elbow and ran his thumb across Mobius's bushy gray moustache.
"And you're finding this hard to believe because I'm looking at you this way?" Loki murmured sadly.
"...yeah," Mobius smiled reverently, "Im no spring chicken, I'm grey and a washed up analyst-"
Loki hushed him with a cross expression that did not sink skin deep.
"You are everything Mobius," Loki said, "Dont. Dont speak of yourself like that."
Mobius's cheeks coloured lightly, "Is that an order from a prince?"
"It's an order from me," Loki said hushedly, "Dont sell yourself short, agent Mobius. You made an Asgardian royal fall in love with you."
Mobius couldnt help himself. He gently pushed Loki down onto the mattress. His lips followed shortly after his hands, touching Loki's collarbone. Loki was receptive, falling back and tightly securing Mobius atop him, gripping his waist, fingers touching the cotton of his shirt that was gently warmed by Mobius's body heat.
Mobius pressed his face into the crook of Loki's neck, facial hair grazing his cold skin and lips kissing the god gently.
Loki sighed, shivers rolling in waves down his spine in a pleasurable rush.
He hadn't been revered like this before, dare he say worshipped.
Mobius was strategic and careful, seeming to plan his next touch before he finished the last.
His lips left Loki's neck to capture the god's mouth, caressing gently, passionate yet slow, enjoying every second by the sound of the soft moan that slipped though his lips when he felt Loki press elegant fingers into his lower back.
Loki wondered vaguely how long it had been for Mobius since they'd felt the touch of a lover.
Loki propped himself up and they readjusted, Mobius knelt either side of Loki's narrow hips, the mattress dipping.
Loki removed his infernal tie in a smooth tug and flick, picking open the collar of Mobius's shirt to taste the skin there.
Mobius barely prevented the whisper that escaped his mouth from expanding into a groan.
"Loki," he breathed.
Loki had his shirt off in a flourish, Mobius's fingers less tactical and struggling to pull the fabric from Loki's arms.
Loki shed his shirt and returned to Mobius's waiting embrace, the analyst's fingers weaving knots into Loki's dark curls.
"Is this really happening?" Mobius swooned, whispering as Loki slid his hands down over his sides.
He was slow and purposeful, cunning. Loki knew how to please, fingers caressing the soft flesh of Mobius's thighs.
"Something certainly is," Loki said coyly, "Whatever your wish."
Mobius smirked taking Loki's face in his hands. His pupils were blown wide, bristling with a youthful spark, hopelessly fond and open. Mobius revelled in being able to touch his face, adoring the fair soft plains of his cheekbones. The corners of Loki's eyes were creased by joy and Mobius hadn't seen anything more beautiful and heart warming in all the centuries he'd lived.
"You look so happy," Mobius whispered.
"Why wouldn't I be, Mobius?" Loki replied, his voice as sweet, bright and rich as honey, "Look what I have. Look what you've given me."
Mobius the corner of his mouth. He divulged his impulses a second time and cupped Loki's cheek, placing another few affectionate pecks to Loki's jaw and cheek.
Eyes half closed, Loki hummed.
"What did I give you?"
Loki pulled him against his chest. Heartbeats and warmth exhanged at the touch of their bare skin, Loki betrayed a gasp of exultion. The intimacy made him want to bolt but it was Mobius, and his gentle caresses soothed Loki's fear into a simmering quiet.
Loki breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he brought his mouth to Mobius's neck.
"Glorious purpose," Loki purred.

Mobius was dozing lightly, head against Loki's shoulder. Loki's curls spilt over the TVA assigned single mattress, Mobius's leg draped over one of Loki's slender long limbs.
He looked about ten years younger when he slept; Mobius's skin was smoother, devoid of stress, eyes closed lightly against gentle dreams. His temples and forehead were lightly sprinkled with sweat from exertion and Loki proudly wiped his lover's brow, smirking to himself.
The smirk turned gently into a smile of adoration as Mobius shifted, grumbling something unintelligible as he pushed his head closer into the crook of Loki's neck.
Loki took the opportunity to draw patterns against Mobius's shoulder blades, asgardian script looping markless against a mortal's flushed rose skin.
Loki couldn't recall when he'd ever spent more than three minutes naked in someone's arms after the fact.
It was entirely an alien concept that felt as easy as breathing now, with Mobius.
He also knew he had never once told anyone how much he loved them as they'd pinned him into the mattress and been told he was loved in return.
His eyes moistened at the corners and he lowered his face into Mobius's soft, cropped grey hair, inhaling the smell of peppermint and coffee.
Mobius's hand was resting on Loki's bare hip, heavy with sleep and Loki was careful not to dislodge it, wishing a print of Mobius's contact could stay on his skin forever, caresses and kisses immortalised.
He was humming a gentle Asgardian song against Mobius's temple when the door cracked open.
Of course Mobius had forgot to lock it.
"Its me, I just need the reports of- Oh. Right!"
B-15 paused in the doorway, lips pursed, armor clunking as she shifted.
Preferring a wicked grin to a scowl, Loki saluted her sarcastically from where he was wrapped in the bed clothes, his and Mobius's state of play given away by the explosion of clothes across the room and the light scratch marks on Mobius's shoulders.
B-15 looked as though she wished she'd been pruned.
"Yeah, so, I'll come back," she said, backing up.
"I'll tell Mobius when he wakes up," Loki said, smiling slowly.
He pointedly kissed the top of Mobius's head, unsure why he was staking a claim in front of ambivalent hunter B-15. He knew she respected Mobius yet felt the fiery urge to defend his position in Mobius's bed all of a sudden.
B-15 had softened slightly, a smile perking her lips and Loki's nerves settled in his stomach.
"Don't hurt him," B-15 said then, "Because I can and will still prune you, Laufeyson. I'm serious."
"As always," Loki said.
B-15 looked over the two of them again before retreating.
Had she been blushing?
Celebrating the victory of making the hunter blush and the rush of being caught in Mobius's bedroom, unclothed, Loki felt Mobius stir against him.
"What the shit was that about?" Mobius grumbled.
"We've been discovered," Loki said, "Again."
"First Versailles, now this," Mobius's eyes were still closed, "We're gonna get a rep."
"That's a reputation I'd enjoy," Loki grinned, "Have you heard of the Variant that seduced the top analyst? Wow he's so handsome I wish it was me."
"Shut up," Mobius groaned.
His hand on Loki's hip stroked a slow path over the curve of Loki's rear and down his thigh.
"You love it," Loki murmured.
"Mmm," Mobius sighed sleepily, "I love this, this is what I love. And pie."
"Couldn't forget that now could we?" Loki said.
"Pie's my favourite," Mobius said dreamily.
Loki rolled his eyes affectionately and pressed his body against Mobius's.
He ran his short nails gently down over the marks he had left, delighting in the pleased sound Mobius made.
"Loki," Mobius gently whispered his name and Loki teared up again.
He'd said it, just to say it, rolling Loki's name around his tongue like a prayer. Loki practically glowed and Mobius caught his enamored, overwhelmed smile as he opened his eyes.
"Good to know I wasn't dreaming," Mobius blinked.
"You dream of me too then?" Loki murmured, preening and Mobius swatted lightly at him.
"Course I do," Mobius said, "I study your life, I get to meet you in person and then I find out you're everything I'd hoped you'd be. Let a man have his daydreams."
"I can definitely help with that, darling," Loki whispered.
Mobius grinned as Loki entangled them together, kissing him deeply and expertly wasting their report writing time.

Chapter Text

B-15 caught Mobius later on by the hot chocolate machine. Mobius attempted to dodge her gaze, a genuine but bashful smile illuminating his glowing face.
"So casanova," B-15 propped her arm on the machine, "Got something you wanna tell me?"
Mobius scoffed and the laugh derailed into a nervous giggle. B-15 smirked.
"A real Loki expert, huh?"
"Oh stop it," Mobius chastised softly.
"I told you you were worrying too much," B-15 said, "Your Loki practically lights up whenever he sees you."
Mobius grinned turning his face away to hide the glee painting him in shades of pink.
"I'm glad you're happy," B-15 said genuinely, "I can't say I'm surprised either."
"Oh?"
"We all know how long you've studied him. The two of you were a pair from the moment I arrested him. Can't say I didnt predict this would happen." B-15 said.
Mobius took a nonchalant sip of hot cocoa, a hand on his hip.
"Here I was thinking I was immune to his charms," he chuckled.
"Evidently not," B-15 smiled, "As long as he's good to you, I can support it. He did save the entirety of space and time with us."
Mobius nodded, thinking back to when Loki had returned from the loom. Mobius had witnessed his transformation, seen the God pull the loom apart from sheer will and power alone.
He had watched with tears in his eyes as his best friend had woven timelines through his slender fingers and given them the breath of life; green had twisted and spiralled in flashes and waves down the timelines, bringing them back to life.
When Loki had sent the timelines through to the citadel in an impressive command of his glowing hands, Mobius had watched him collapse at the doors to the gangway on his return.
Loki hadn't expected to survive it. He had confessed to him and Sylvie that he knew what he wanted and what he had to do regardless.
Mobius recalled the fear of watching Loki pull the doors open and how his heart had jumped into his throat as he'd followed Sylvie back to the viewing windows with a feeling carving his chest open.
He had felt as though he was being torn in two.
Loki had been safe, Casey and OB assisting Mobius in pulling Loki up the steps.
Sylvie had been able to get him through the doors without the radiation tearing her apart and had promptly fallen to her knees, fixing him up so OB and Casey could lift him. .
Mobius had held Loki's obsidian crown as if it were a child, protectively cradling it against his chest as he trusted Sylvie to save the God's life.
Two months onwards and Loki was back working cases with them, Sylvie safe on her chosen branch and Mobius and Loki had their life together.
It had taken everything in him not to confess to Loki the moment he had regained consciousness but it hadn't been worth stressing his friend out if he hadn't felt the same way.
"We had another alert today," B-15 said then, her smile becoming small and troubled.
"Oh?" Mobius took another sip of cocoa.
Her mood change concerned him, scratching at his mind. Should he be worried?
His friend and colleague hadn't appeared this concerned when tasking them with investigating the variant in Versailles.
"There's a very rich and powerful variant of He who remains in 2189 Earth. We've been getting increasing reports of his variants appearing on Earth since OB perfected the new detector algorithm. What you really need to know is that even Miss Minutes is concerned by this."
That wasn't good.
Mobius's hand curled slightly tighter around his cup, pushing the brown liquid to the lip of the cup.
"So..."
"So, we need you and Loki to infilterate a function at his premises. But this variant is exceedingly technologically savvy and cunning. He's caused the downfall of several of his business competitors and a lot of it has been covered up. He's bad news."
Not like the embarassed gentleman he and Loki had spooked in the dark of the gardens then.
Show time.
Mobius nodded and quickly finished his treat.
"We're on it," Mobius said, "Anything else we need to know, before we head in?"
"Yeah," B-15 huffed, "And you're not going to like it."
Mobius frowned.
"This variant killed the Loki on that timeline," She said seriously, "You have to be careful, Mobius. Our Loki is strong enough to face him but the both of you need to keep that in mind. Don't let your guards down."
Mobius nodded, his bones feeling as brittle as spider-cracked glass.

...

"You're worrying far too much."
Loki was striding ahead of him and Mobius kept pace, pushing his legs to their limit.
"I know you think you're up to it, but just because he killed an "inferior Loki" doesn't mean you're immune."
"I've held the fabric of reality in the palms of my hands, Mobius."
"Yes, and that's lovely and brilliant and clever, but it's not going to save you if you have a plasma gun in your face," Mobius quipped back irritabily.
Loki smiled and slowed his pace, "Plasma guns?"
"Yes, still very common in 2189."
"That's what you're worried about? Im a God," Loki smirked.
"Youre a God that can still die. And call me crazy, but I don't want you to die heroically, as you so often seem to do."
The bickering brought a genuine, heartfelt smile to Loki's lips at his partner's concern. He slowed his pace and lay a hand on Mobius's shoulder.
"Mobius, I'll be careful," Loki assured, gentle, expressive eyes boring into Mobius's stubborn gaze.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Mobius tilted his head at him, "Just let me lead, okay? Slow, cerebral approach."
"And when you're flung halfway across the room unconcious, the man of action will step in," Loki sniffed and Mobius huffed an indignant laugh.
Loki leant forwards and kissed Mobius on the cheek, letting the peck of his lips linger at the stubble peppering Mobius's jaw.
Mobius glowed at the touch, lips spreading in a soft smile, despite his worried gaze.
"Come on now," Loki said, "Let's get this over with. I have a pie date with my favourite analyst."

.....

Victor Tempora was a high class businessman of unimaginable power. His tower block was the largest in the city, yet, mysteriously, no one knew which floor he kept his office.
The entire building was shaped like a citadel, resembling a gothic church from earthern history at its peak where it drew inspiration from the spires of cathedrals.
The exclusive business party was being held on the 13th floor, which made Mobius even more uncomfortable.
He wasn't a superstitious man, so to speak, but he didn't look a warning in the mouth and not step back.
Loki and he were dressed to the nines, clad in black suits. Mobius's was decorated with understaed mobius strips on the lapels, silver pins that Loki joked could fend off a werewolf and when Mobius stared at him, smirking, Loki realised that's exactly what they were for.
Loki, on the other hand, had emerald cuffs and a pin in the shape of his golden horns. His tie was also a deep emerald with an intricate embroidered pattern.
They entered as a couple, Loki using his charming smile to beguile the severe looking woman who took names at the door.
As he said his name, she shrank back, her gaze turning from lustful to realisation and then to horror.
Mobius tightened his grip on Loki's hand, their interwoven fingers strained at the knuckles.
Loki squeezed his partner's hand back, pacing the comforting touches like a beat to a song.
"Have a wonderful evening," Loki grinned like a shark.
Mobius was stiff and worried beside him, his grip on Loki's hand becoming cemented. You couldn't have pried the analyst off of him with a crowbar.
They entered the wide space that had been set up as an expesnive dining room.
It seemed to have been a modern take on a ball room beforehand.
Tables were circular, with centerpieces that looked like egg timers. Purple sand flowed between the two compartments, complimenting the lilac and gold table covers.
Each patron looked more stuffy and severe than the last, even their laughter was brittle and controlled, shifty eyes flitting about the room.
Loki stuck out like a sore thumb, several patrons staring at him in abject terror.
Whether they feared him or Victor Tempora's reaction was yet to be seen
The man of the hour was nowhere to be found and Mobius pulled his tempad out with his free hand. His thumb hovered over the "back-up" button that would alert B-15 to any danger and flood the premicise with armed minute men.
Not yet.
He couldn't panic.
"So," Loki purred in Mobius's ear, "They all seem surprised to see me."
Mobius's palm was slick with sweat but Loki didn't seem to mind, rubbing his thumb against the back of Mobius's hand, tracing the veins and knuckles.
"You've been dead for three weeks, on this timeline," Mobius said.
"And how, pray tell, did my unfortunate variant die?"
Mobius really didn't want to say.
He licked his lips and bit his cheek, looking at the floor.
"Mobius? What-"
The lights dimmed.
They had missed the stage at the end of the room with deep indigo curtains, a dias and a raised platform.
The patrons and businessmen and women who had been staring at them turned dutifully to the stage.
Mobius pulled Loki into the shadows and sat them at an empty table, scooting his chair closer so he could keep a hold of Loki's hand.
Loki massaged the inside of his palm calmingly as the curtains opened and Victor Tempora stepped out on stage.
His eyes immediately found the pair in the dark and he smiled.
"The future is now," he began, eyes glimmering

Chapter Text

Victor Tempora could not have been more different from Timely.
Mobius was still sweating violently against Loki’s palm and Loki, secretly, was beginning to let a nugget of doubt bury itself in his chest.
He Who Remains had terrified him, long before he had held the multiverse in his hands. As they’d entered the extravagant event, Loki had delighted in the shock and horror on the guests’ faces because clearly they were not expecting his variant to have survived against Tempora.
Loki had outwitted He Who Remains and saved Timely.
Facing down Tempora should be a piece of pie.
Mobius’s fear was what was rattling him. His analyst was collected and cool, always the voice of reason during an outburst or a problem.
Whatever had put that terror into his partner’s eyes and nerves was something Loki should at least consider being wary of.
Slowly, he drew a lopsided star into the soft skin of Mobius’s wrist, hidden by the table cloth.
“He’s looking straight at us,” Mobius murmured, barely moving his lips.
“Act natural,” Loki whispered back, keeping his eyes locked with Tempora.
There was hearty applause from around the room, the clapping close to Mobius and Loki waning as the patrons followed Tempora’s gaze and clocked the Asgardian who should’ve been in a grave.
Loki reasoned that he held the advantage over the mortals; they had no clue he was from another timeline judging by the abject horror in their stares.
That left only one prominent threat.
“Ladies, gentlemen and every patron between and beyond, I welcome you to the unveiling of my most prestigious invention yet,” Tempora said grandly.
He unlocked his eyes from Loki’s and the God of Stories looked him up and down methodically.
Same height as Timely, timeline typical clothing, ringed fingers, no discernible weaponry visible to the naked eye.
This was going to be easy.
“Behind me, lies the future of Earth as we know it. A beautiful blend of vintage Stark tech from the beloved 2010s, my own creations and the most special element of all.”
He was pompous and grandiose in his expressions; closely resembling the mannerisms of He Who Remains with the eccentric waving of his hands.
Mobius was tapping his foot under the table and Loki pressed his leg against his to quell the anxious energy.
“If you would kindly direct your attention to the device behind me…”
The purple curtains were pulled open from backstage with a flourish and the audience, aside from Loki and Mobius, made appreciative noises of wonder.
The device took up the entire stage behind Tempora and resembled a complicated engine with an enlongated end.
The central cylinder was transparent and filled with rolling, churning tendrils of emerald green energy.
Almost like…
Loki glanced at Mobius.
The agent was deathly pale, the colour draining from his face.
“Mobius, is that-“
“A combination of technology and magic, straight from the source. A beautiful union of human ingenuity and extraterrastrial energy brought together in harmony. I present to you, my kind and dutiful audience, the Temporal device!” Tempora declared, hands thrust back towards the device.
“That’s…” Loki’s mouth dried up.
“Seidr,” Mobius said, “That’s the energy of the Loki he murdered.”

…

Loki had violently misjudged the situation.
He regretted not trusting Mobius’s gut, his analyst pressing his leg back against him in solidarity.
This doesn’t mean I can’t still beat him. I have held the entire multiverse in my hands.
Loki carved that thought in gold within his mind palace, hiding his doubts behind a stone wall of optimism and arrogance.
Hello old friend, he thought.
Beyond that, he knew he had the skills to put up more than a good fight. He had spent centuries learning physics, he had survived temporal radiation and he had managed the flow of time with his raw power, taught to him by his mother.
This was no longer a case of unearned confidence, as skilled as he had been as a Prince of Asgard.
Loki was a God in his own right.
As if he could read his thoughts, Mobius leant close to Loki, murmuring against his ear lobe.
“Just so you know, I know you can do this. I just didn’t want to freak you out,” he said.
Loki turned to him and covered their exchange from the mortals and Tempora’s notice by leaning closer.
He spoke his reply against the corner of Mobius’s mouth, disguising it as a couple demonstrating their affection in public.
“I know, darling. Have we made a mistake by being seen by him though…”
“No, I don’t think so. Just follow my lead. Slow, cerebral approach.”
Tempora continued his sinister speech and Loki watched the seidr drift around in its prison, a distinct and powerful loathing for the variant festering in his gut like an illness.
How dare he.
The atrocious excuse for a human had no right to strip the magic from an asgardian. It wasn’t often that Loki had felt any kinship, let alone empathy, for his other selves scattered through the universe.
Barring Sylvie Laufeydottir and the older Loki he had met in the void, he couldn’t name a single other.
This Loki, whomever they had been, had been desecrated. Stripped of their sense of self. Parted from their sacred magic and murdered for the sake of a madman’s daydream.
Loki could taste blood behind his teeth.
He let Mobius lace their fingers together and allowed his counterpart, his equal, to quell his murderous rage.

…

Victor Tempora closed his speech with an extravagant bow and was promptly flocked by menacing security.
Mobius had tempered his anxiety and engaged the strategic side of his quick mind. He chastised himself for not being more forthcoming with Loki; were they now at a disadvantage?
He could not shake that thought.
It ate away at him and he repeatedly indulged a glance at Loki’s side profile.
This would not end badly.
Mobius would not lose Loki again.
They hadn’t named the connection they now shared, but their friendship turned romance was now sacred to him. Saving Loki’s life was second nature and the determination he felt to protect the redeemed God had ballooned tenfold.
Compromised was what Ravonna would’ve said.
She was not here though and she did not have a say.
Mobius could and would do what he had always done since transferring to analytics.
Lead from the heart as well as the head.
“Let’s move to behind the scenes,” Mobius whispered, “Can you cloak us in a perception…thingy”.
“You mean perception illusion.”
“Yes, that. It’s show time.”

…

The building was an endless maze.
They’d tried at least two elevators and multiple staircases, taking the routes less travelled by.
Staff milled around morosely on the lower floors, decidedly uninvited from the evening's festivities, whilst the upper floors were abuzz with multiple parties and events.
Loki and Mobius avoided floor 13 where the unveiling had occurred, proceeding with caution and putting as much distance between them and the Temporal Device as possible.
Beyond the declaration of its name, Victor Tempora had barely even scratched the surface of what the device was for.
No purpose mentioned, just fanfare and spectacle.
He hadn’t even lingered to talk to his guests, who were instead greeted by sinister looking socialites and suited men with money-hungry eyes.
“We should try the top floor again,” Mobius insisted.
“It was an empty penthouse,” Loki shook his head, “We should attempt the basement.”
“That was pointless, it’s a breeding ground for overgrown spiders,” Mobius exhaled gruffly, “What exactly are we doing?”
“Well, according to you and your tempad, we were following Victor’s energy signature,” Loki parried irritably.
Mobius prodded at the device in his hands as they stayed hidden under the ornate looping curve of a staircase.
“It’s scattered. Like he’s in atleast three places at once and nowhere.”
“That doesn’t make sense at all, Mobius.”
“I know!” Mobius snapped.
He closed his eyes as Loki flinched and exhaled gently.
“Hey…I’m sorry. I’m just- I should’ve told you about the other Loki earlier,” Mobius said gently, “The details were pretty grim and you’ve heard enough about your own death for multiple lifetimes.”
“I can handle that Mobius,” Loki assured, “I’m not made of glass.”
Mobius sidled closer to him, arm to arm, tempad visible to them both.
“I know,” Mobius said, “Things are just different now.”
Loki could’ve asked him to define ‘different’ but he already knew. The hand that wasn’t choking the tempad in Mobius’s stressed grip found its home at the small of Loki’s back, warm and welcome.
“Send a message to OB,” Loki suggested helpfully, “Perhaps he can pin down where Victor is.”
“Good call,” Mobius agreed.
As he began to type, there was a strange radio sound, very out of place and retro considering the time period.
Even the staircase above them was an ornate yet gaudy blend of chrome, golds and a strange material Loki hadn’t seen on Earth before.
“Mobius…” he whispered.
“Hold on Loki, I’m almost done-“
“Mobius, listen.”
Loki pulled away from him and spread his fingers. Mobius looked up from the tempad to see the ghost of onyx horns manifesting across Loki’s brow, seidr fizzing at his fingertips.
Mobius opened his mouth to suggest they move when a disturbance in the atmosphere morphed the air right in front of them.
It was like watching a painting bleed, colours and form of the hallway before them deteriorating into abstraction.
Slowly, a dark pit opened in the centre of the hallway and Loki shoved Mobius behind him.
The slit in the fabric of the universe opened like a break in curtains and a leering face appeared.
Oak skin, neat cropped dark hair and malicious eyes glittering with greed.
Victor Tempora stepped out of the slice in the atmosphere and Mobius felt his heart rocket up his trachea and lodge itself behind his tongue.
“Evening gentlemen,” Tempora grinned, “How absolutely splendid it is that you could join us!”
Loki whirled around as the air behind them trembled and the staircase started to bleed and run down like ruined inks.
The malignant stares of Tempora’s security beared down upon them.
“It will be in your best interests if you simply step into my office,” Tempora said and gestured to the disturbing break in time and space behind him.
Loki was about to protest, brow set in a dangerous expression warning of murder to come.
He was distracted by Mobius freezing, a blade the size of a machete touching the base of his spine.
“Mr. Laufeyson,” Victor smiled, “If you’d like to follow me?”

Chapter Text

Loki decided not to kill the security guards that marched him through the tear in space and time, only for the sake of Mobius, of whom did not relinquish his grip on Loki’s hip.
“Careful Loki,” Mobius spoke so quietly only Loki heard, “Just stay cool.”
Loki eased his rabid breaths out through his nose, eyes boring a hole into Tempora’s skull.
He was more than aware of the blade pressed to Mobius’s lower back.
The analyst was level-headed, expertly playing it off that he wasn’t one slice away from bleeding out.
“Now,” Tempora strode around his desk and plopped down into a decadent purple and gold armchair, “Let's get to know each other, shall we?”
The room was enormous and its resemblance to the Citadel at the End of Time made Loki’s blood run cold.
Expensive taste ran between the variants and Loki quickly assessed their surroundings as he was parted from Mobius and sat in a chair before the businessman.
The windows touched the ceiling, twenty feet tall and stained glass. They did not match the cold and modern exterior of the building at all.
Through the clear segments, Loki couldn’t see the city, only a sinister white mist.
It solidified his theory that the office sat outside of time and he was confident Mobius had picked up on it too.
The warped incision that had split the atmosphere and spilled the colours of the world around them had the same flavour as his seidr.
It had felt like an enticing spice scenting the wind, the burn and thrill of it touching Loki’s skin like an electric shock.
The feel of a dead Loki’s magic. Their essence.
Loki must have had a murderous look on his face because he felt Mobius’s eyes on him.
The stare he gave him was one begging for patience.
Slow. Cerebral. Careful.
“It’s funny,” Tempora smiled, lacing his fingers together under his chin, “Seeing the ghost of a former adversary stroll into my celebration.”
“I’m sure,” Loki said silkily.
He laced his words with venom, fingernails gripping the arm rest of his chair.
“And I can see we have a member of the Time Variance…Association? Authority? Oh the mind boggles. How easily I forget!” Tempora replied with another dazzling flash of white teeth.
Loki grit his teeth behind his lips.
“You’re familiar with the TVA?” Mobius deadpanned, giving nothing away.
“Oh yes! Very much so. You little ants have been showing up uninvited for close to three weeks now. Orange doors here, orange doors there…”
“Then you know why we’re here,” Loki said.
“I know why he’s here,” Tempora nodded to Mobius, “It’s very easy to track the aura of a time agent. What puzzles me, is you, dear guest. What business does a God have with the TVA?”
“Lokis are accustomed to aligning ourselves with the powerful and the intriguing,” Loki said smoothly, “As I’m sure my unfortunate variant may have demonstrated.”
A malicious yet proud look crossed Tempora’s dark eyes and his smile took on a predatory glee.
“Mr, Laufeyson,” he reminisced, “Yes. Such a beguiling being.”
Out of the corner of Loki’s eye, Mobius looked uncomfortable.
No, the better description would’ve been livid.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, disgust rapidly contorting his kind features.
The security flanking them shifted awkwardly, as if they could sense the growing rage and tension.
Loki leant forwards and smugly watched as a guard touched a listless finger to their gun.
“Your machine,” Loki said, “It draws magic. To what end?”
“Ah,” Tempora leant back, unlacing his fingers and kicking his feet onto the desk.
Loki managed to stifle the flinch at the near-identical mannerisms of He Who Remains being performed by the variant.
“Now that would be telling. Really, you have a lot to learn as the night’s festivities continue.”
Loki opened his mouth to parry him with a barbed reply when Tempora flicked that clever, assessing gaze back and forth between him and Mobius.
A chill ran down Loki’s spine.
“Unfortunately, however, it will be a shame to have to cut your evening short,” Tempora said slowly, “After all, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s a pleasure to have worked with one Loki, let alone to be graced with the presence of another.”
Working with one Loki, Loki replayed the thought in disgust.
If working meant murder then Victor Tempora was spot on.
He was looking at them in tandem, the evershifting grin on his face manifesting into a hungry leer.
He was a shark smelling blood in the water.
Loki glanced at Mobius and then realised his fatal mistake.
Mobius was his gaping wound that dripped blood for the predator to catch the scent of.
Every glance, every slight shift in the analyst’s direction, every staccato reply was a sign on a stick that said: my weakness is here.
“I don’t see any reason for things to get unpleasant or…messy,” Tempora said then, leaning close to his desk, “So I have a proposition."
“We’re not interested,” Mobius spoke up, strong in his delivery.
His eyes had shifted to a stone set stare that dared someone to challenge him. Loki knew that penetrating gaze and the power it had to crack a dangerous variant.
This was no time theatre however.
They were in Tempora’s domain.
It was an inescapable fact that crashed into the pair as the largest guard stepped forward and brandished the long weapon he had used to usher Mobius through the split in reality.
“I think you’ll very quickly change your mind,” Tempora’s smile faded to a dark caricature of his previously sinisterly charming expression.
“You don’t have anything you can offer me,” Loki lifted his chin.
Tempora lifted a brow and nodded towards Mobius.
“Now that’s just not true is it, Mr. Laufeyson?” Tempora said slowly, “I can guarantee your companion’s life is a more than reasonable trade.”
Loki’s tongue bled as he bit it.
“So, shall we say…you agree to add your contribution to my machine and your male friend returns to the TVA unharmed?”
“Absolutely not,” Mobius snapped.
He stood abruptly from his chair and the knife was suddenely at his lower back.
Loki flinched, hard, and made to stand.
No blood, no broken skin or torn fabric.
Nothing yet.
“Uh uh! I wouldn’t,” Tempora’s grin was back, “This weaponry delivers a very precise and distinct conclusion. If we keep things civil, this will end in your favour.”
“You’re not understanding me. Loki is not going to be a part of whatever sick business venture you have in mind.”
“Oh Agent, I would’ve thought you’d have caught on that this is much bigger than a business venture,” Tempora said, “I think Mr. Laufeyson can speak for himself.”
Loki shuddered as Mobius levelled him with a lethal glare.
“No,” Mobius said, “Not again.”

…

Mobius didn’t care to protect them from Tempora knowing of their connection.
Much like back at the Loom, he grabbed a fistful of Loki’s jacket lapel in one hand.
“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Mobius whispered angrily, “I know you’re not.”
Loki looked as though he was under attack.
Tempora laughed lightly from behind the desk.
“I’ll give the two of you some space.”
The mad man strutted over to a crowded shelf of books whilst the guard holding the iridescent blade kept deathly close to them.
Mobius hated the look of the ghoulish weapon. It had an aura that seemed to vibrate and disturb the air around it.
Where he’d felt it at his back, it had made him feel nauseous.
“Mobius, there are five of them and two of us. And one of us is a God,” Loki whispered back, voice nearly imperceptible.
“Don’t even consider going it alone,” Mobius said.
“I’m not, but if it comes to it-“
“I’m stopping you right there,” Mobius’s free hand rested on Loki’s chest, “I’m not doing that again. I will not let you risk your life and sacrifice your damn self, another damn time!”
Loki hushed him sharply and crowded closer, setting the guards behind them on edge.
“I am not going to leave you,” Loki insisted, “I do not plan on becoming a battery for this madman’s weapon.”
Mobius exhaled slowly and released Loki’s jacket.
Instead, he took the god’s hand and squeezed, running his thumb over each of Loki’s knuckles.
“So what’s the plan?” he said, calm and centered again.
“I’m going to pause time,” Loki warned, “And we’re going to slip through together. I’ve never taken another person with me so keep a hold of me. If it fails, I will be back for you. No matter what.”
Mobius nodded.
He could trust him; his selfless and heroic partner in time.
“Ready?” Loki whispered.
Loki lifted his free hand and Mobius jolted.
At first he didn’t know what exactly had happened except that the feeling of nausea had increased tenfold.
Loki’s face was contorted, morphing from confusion to horror.
Mobius twisted to look behind them to find the guards frozen in time.
And the blade of the strange knife was slick with crimson blood that had a sickly oil-slick rainbow to it.
As he turned back, Mobius grunted and tasted metal.
Blood spilt through his teeth and pain exploded through his abdomen.
“I should’ve mentioned,” Tempora said, back at his desk, “That this deal wasn’t optional. It was a mercy.”
Loki cried out as Mobius collapsed into him. Mobius saw the world spin and colours began to morph and distort and Loki’s face became intangible, running like paint poured into water.
Nothing looked real.
He reached out for Loki, unable to speak, unable to comprehend how Tempora could avoid Loki’s manipulation of time.
Mobius cringed against a mouthful of blood and the sick nausea of the blade’s violent touch.
Loki was yelling, begging and holding his face as he lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

Mobius was losing blood fast.
It pooled beneath his slumped body, bright crimson and stained by an oil spill shimmer that made Loki equal parts terrified and enraged.
No ordinary knife had stabbed him.
With a roar of fury, Loki summoned a blaze of green seidr and sent it shatteringly fast at the guard holding the blade.
The time-frozen man was obliterated, disintegrating into emerald sparks and shreds of suit silk.
The blade, unharmed by the magic, clattered to the floor with a sinister blanch of light bouncing off of its surface.
Loki gripped Mobius against his body, blood staining his white shirt.
“Mobius, you need to stay with me,” Loki begged, pressing his lips to the shell of his partner’s ear, “If you can hear me, hang on.”
Tempora’s footsteps echoed like gunshots over the polished floor.
Loki craned his body over Mobius’s to shield him.
“What have you done?” Loki seethed.
“I think it’s quite evident that your partner has been stabbed,” Tempora shrugged.
Loki ground his teeth together and a lifetime of rage climbed his throat and came through his lips in a burst of verbal fire.
“You pathetic, little man,” Loki spat, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
Loki pressed a hand to Mobius’s middle, blood slick under his long fingers and making his stomach churn. The oil slick tingle reacted with his seidr, feeling at once familiar and foreign.
Magic was at play and Mobius didn’t have time.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to help much,” Tempora pursed his lips.
Loki’s hand had begun to glow, attempting to heal the ragged incision.
Loki pinned Tempora with a stare that could’ve torn skin from the bone.
“The Time Knife is imbued with your variant’s essence. It’s poetic almost. You’re essentially working against yourself,” Tempora said.
Loki glanced at Mobius’s face which was rapidly becoming pale and sallow.
He made his choice.
“Get your affairs in order, Victor. When I come back, you will wish you had never revealed yourself to me.”
Tempora’s smug expression warped and changed as Loki pulled at his ability to traverse time.
He didn’t have time to savour the surprise on the variant’s face as Loki pushed himself and Mobius through the fabric of time, disassembling and reassembling from Tempora’s office to the TVA.
Mobius’s blood dripped against the orange tinged floors and agents around them gasped in horror, some dropping their paperwork and scrambling to grab their coworkers.
Loki ignored their rushed calls for help and looked up in wild terror, his heart singing as he saw Casey round the corner with B-15 on his heels.
“What’s going on?!” Casey bleated, eyes going wide like a doe’s.
“Mobius!” B-15 gasped.
“Help me!” Loki begged, pulling Mobius against his chest.

…

Loki hated the medical department.
It was as clinical as you could imagine but with even more colour drained from it. Certain sects of the TVA seemed to suck the life out of the world around them.
He’d come to love it but the fact remained that there were places there he would wish to never see again.
Mobius strapped up to monitors and an oxygen mask was a sight he wished he could expunge from his memory for good.
There was the option of timeslipping but that would simply create an alternate timeline. The Mobius Loki had confessed to, that he loved with his whole scarred heart, would still be here and then he would be alone.
Loki’s hand was seizing up from where it was curled around Mobius’s.
“Loki,” a striking female voice called.
Loki’s head snapped round and Sylvie Laufeydottir was standing in the doorway to the department, her long coat dragging against the off-grey floors.
“Sylvie,” he gasped.
She hurried over and his chest felt like it was going to burst. Sylvie sat opposite him on Mobius’s other side and she gave him a pitiful smile that was turned down at the edges.
“How is he?” She said, “B-15 called me in.”
“He’s dying,” Loki cursed the crack of his voice.
What point was there in hiding his brokeness, especially from a version of himself?
Sylvie frowned harder, her face stormy and almost pained.
Tentatively, she touched Mobius’s wrist, careful not to disturb the tube of the cannula.
“I am a God of Time and I can’t do anything,” Loki whispered, “I can save the multiverse but I can’t save a single human-“
“Don’t start with that,” Sylvie glared at him, “Self-pity won’t help you and it won’t help Mobius. There’s got to be something. Think!”
“What do you want me to do?! It is my fault Sylvie, Tempora wanted me and he executed Mobius because I was weak enough to show how much I-“
“Love him?” Sylvie raised her brows, “Yeah, we all know. B-15 gave me the run down and to be honest Loki, it was always obvious. But don’t keep blaming yourself. Mobius has been all in for you since the day dot. This is something that needs to be solved, not mourned. He’s still alive, for now.”
Loki’s face crumpled.
He stifled the tears, choking himself in the process and bowing his head down to touch his forehead to Mobius’s hand.
Sylvie let him have his moment before her tough love pushed forwards again.
“The Time Knife is something created with another Loki’s seidr,” Sylvie said, “So what else do we know about it?”
Loki swallowed thickly and raised his head.
“It’s taking its time. It heals and then it makes him bleed, in a constant loop. It is designed to make the victim suffer. Healing and bleeding out over and over again until it eventually kills him,” Loki could barely speak the words.
Sylvie grimaced.
“So…this other Loki variant had control over time?”
“I don’t know,” Loki said, “I don’t know Sylvie. Tempora killed them when he extracted their magic and bastardised it for his weaponry. As far as I know, I am the only Loki that can timeslip and manipulate the flow. This is something I have to fix.”
He ignored the light roll of her eyes and suppressed the urge to shout at her. It wouldn’t solve anything.
“Do you want me to give you some space and get B-15 and the nurse in?” Sylvie said, “We’ll have a debrief. OB is on his way up too, Casey went to get him.”
Loki nodded.
Sylvie gave Mobius’s upper arm a soft squeeze and moved in a flourish, black coat flapping as she strutted out of the room.
Left alone with his own thoughts, rage and guilt, Loki scooted closer to the head of the bed, slipping his hand under Mobius’s chin to cradle his face around the oxygen mask.
“I’m sorry,” he shuddered, eyes burning, “For so many things. I don’t even know if you can hear me…”
Mobius’s breathing was laboured and slow, his chest rising and falling with intermittent spasms.
The gauze and futuristic gel patch covering his stomach was spotted with crimson that bloomed and then closed like flowers reacting to light.
He was bleeding and healing and then bleeding out again, over and over again.
It was cruel and senseless, a time loop all its own that had ripped Mobius from him and placed him in this ward that felt more like a crypt.
Loki had spent centuries learning the loom to then nearly give his life. He didn’t recall much about the events after he walked onto the gangway and ripped the Loom apart with his magic.
He saw the memory of green tendrils, timelines upon timelines twisting into each other and creating new branches before they tore his seidr from his chest and rushed into the schism, a tear in the fabric of time that led back to the citadel.
Loki had collapsed and briefly gained consciousness as Sylvie, her clothes smoking lightly, was tugging him back through the doors with all her strength.
Mobius’s voice had been the last thing he heard before he woke up a week later.
And now, here he was, the roles reversed.
He’d scared Mobius half to death then and now Mobius courted death, slipping closer and closer as the seconds ticked by.
“Howdy,” Miss Minutes popped into existence beside him, “Oh, what a darn shame! Look at the poor man.”
“Leave me alone,” Loki growled.
“Oh sugar, I’m just coming to help,” Miss Minutes scowled, “If you don’t want to hear my updates then you’re more than welcome to ignore me.”
“…go ahead. What can I do?” Loki said quietly.
The clock pulled a clipboard out of thin air, the faint glow around it burning Loki’s moist eyes.
“So, our lovely analyst is afflicted by somethin’ we call a Time Slash. A wound that opens and closes on a set time loop until time runs out. By my calculations, he has about an hour left.”
“What?!” Loki stood up, knocking his chair over, “An hour! How am I supposed to find a solution…I- what am I supposed to do?!”
Miss Minutes looked at him with wide cartoon eyes and a line for a frown.
“Well, I’m sorry hun but the only new data I have is that it’s definitely a product of Asgardian magic and technological, time manipulation. A bad, bad mix.”
“If you have no solutions then leave me and him alone! Get out.” Loki snarled and swatted at her.
She made a noise of displeasure and blinked out of existence again.
Loki slumped back into his chair and lay his head against Mobius’s chest.
His heartbeat was faint and Loki lost a piece of himself with each slow beat.
This couldn’t be the end.
They would not part this way, not after everything they’d been through.
“Course I do. I think I always have.” Mobius had said in Versailles, in response to Loki questioning if he had meant it.
Those precious words.
Loki lifted his head and then, a fateful, reckless idea crossed his mind.
It flew past in a split second and Loki latched onto it.
If he couldn’t heal it, since the time loop was initiated by another’s magic and orchestrated to operate this way, then he needed more time. He needed the time to work through the solutions.
And Loki had mastered time.
A midgardian body couldn’t handle the warping of the wound, even within the timeless TVA.
A god’s body could.
He would make more time.
Loki rose slowly and a deep calm settled inside of him; it was the very same feeling he had felt before walking out into the temporal storm of the gangway.
Carefully, he took Mobius’s oxygen mask from his face and the sleeping analyst gasped lightly in his comatose state.
Loki took a deep breath and begged the stars for this to work.
With magic now operational in the TVA, it was his best shot.
“Please don’t hate me too much for this,” Loki chuckled sadly.
He cupped Mobius’s face in his hands, closed his eyes and leant down, sealing their lips together gently.
A faint glow of green was visible through his eyelids, but Loki focused on being delicate, the soft press of his lips to Mobius’s respectfully chaste.
With great care, Loki began to pull and draw the toxic magic from Mobius.
The pain started almost immediately, directly in his core and he heard the drip of blood hitting the floor.
It took all of a few seconds for Loki to transfer the wound to himself, breaking the kiss to stumble backwards, hands grasping at the stab wound in his gut.
He collapsed with a thud.

….

“What the hell has he done?!”
Sylvie rushed past B-15 to find Loki prone and unconscious on the floor, bleeding profusely onto the sterile linoleum.
B-15 and the nurse hurried behind her and Miss Minutes popped up to sit on B-15’s shoulder, looking down with mild intrigue.
There was movement from Mobius’s hospital bed, the rustle of starchy white bed sheets in Sylvie’s ears as she pawed at the blood coming out of Loki’s stomach and bleeding through his shirt.
“Mobius, lie back down,” B-15 insisted behind her, “Put your oxygen mask back on, how did it even come off-“
“B, what’s happening…?”
“Mobius, please just lie down.”
Sylvie grabbed Loki’s chin, turning his head slowly.
His skin was clammy and she noticed the subtle bleed of blue hues leaking onto his cheeks, temple and neck.
His glamour was slipping.
It would’ve been no issue had Sylvie not known this was a sign that he was crucially injured.
“Loki,” she gently shook his chest, “Loki!”
“What’s wrong? What’s going on- ah shit!” Mobius was climbing off the bed.
He’d ripped his cannula out and his hand was bruised.
B-15, Mobius and the nurse - Nurse Andromeda - knelt around Loki, trying to avoid the blood.
“I’m positive this is safe for Jotunns and Asgardians,” Andromeda said, holding up a syringe full of golden liquid, “Med division approved.”
“Try it,” B-15 nodded.
Sylvie shifted over so Mobius could reach Loki, clad in a near paper thin hospital gown.
He was moving freely, no evidence of pain. His hands ran listlessly over Loki’s shoulders in a blind, silent panic.
“Mobius, your stomach…you were supposed to have been stabbed.” Sylvie said, trying to use her seidr to knit the wound on Loki’s stomach closed.
“I- don’t remember. I’m covered in this gauze-“
“Check Loki’s pulse,” Miss Minutes chimed in helpfully, pulling out her holographic clipboard, “I’ll jot it all down.”
B-15 side-eyed the clock perched on her shoulder.
Mobius was pawing at his stomach, pushing his hand through the slit of fabric between button holes of the shirt-gown.
His hands came away clean.
“There’s nothing under the gauze.” Mobius said.
Sylvie withdrew her fingers from Loki’s throat, “His heartbeat is strong. Mobius…I think he did something. You were comatose.”
“More than that, sugar! Mobius dear was very close to no longer being with us!” Miss Minutes said brightly.
Her strange attitude made Sylvie’s skin crawl and Andromeda shooed Miss Minutes away, getting a stern look from the orange clock who hopped away from B-15 to stand on the bed.
“What did he do, Sylvie? Please, tell me. I don’t understand what the shit he’s gone and done!” Mobius bleated, throat hoarse.
Sylvie tried to heal Loki again but the wound just spluttered and glitched, the blood reversing into Loki’s body and then pouring out again.
Loki’s chest heaved and his arms twitched.
“Oh god,” B-15 muttered, her voice shaking.
“He’s transferred the knife wound to himself. I can’t heal it so he must’ve realised he couldn’t either and he’s gone and taken it from Mobius. To save him,” Sylvie said quietly.
Mobius was seemingly in shock, mouth hanging open and eyes bristling with tears that wouldn’t fall.
Andromeda fussed around him, her bright red hair falling into her face. Mobius ignored her and picked up Loki’s limp hand, clasping it in this.
“Goddamned idiot!” he cursed, voice choked.

…

“So, what I can tell you is that Loki has indeed absorbed the Time Knife wound but its working much, much slower. His physical attributes are combating its abilities to drain and heal, much like how Thor Odinson can resist forces like a neutron star. What’s particularly interesting is that I can tag the two different seidr. One of course is our Loki and the other is L-9045, the Loki Victor Tempora extracted the magic from. And from what I can see, both forms of seidr are interacting together, instead of against each other in some elements, whilst also-“
Mobius’s brain thumped.
The headache started at the base of his skull and wrapped his entire head in an iron fist.
OB was rattling off science and explanations of magic far faster than Mobius had the capacity to comprehend at the given moment.
Loki, miraculously, was gaining lucidity and Mobius was attempting not to grab a fistful of his shirt and curse him out.
Rage felt especially unpleasant when aimed at Loki, the very object of every desire Mobius’s living memory contained.
The soft, handsome and yet feminine features, that clever, striking mind.
The barb of betrayal, for not giving him the choice, was a brutal thorn in Mobius’s side.
Loki was the one in the hospital bed now and in pure Loki fashion, had insisted on having a private room.
With great effort, Casey and some kind TVA staff had hailed the machinery into Mobius’s room, taking up the entire small living space that was snug against the kitchenette.
OB, Casey, B-15 and Sylvie were crammed into the slim gap between Loki’s bed and the kitchen cabinets, all in various states of disarray and anxiety.
“Mobius,” Loki called hoarsely.
Mobius was gripping a cup of cocoa, attempting not to spill it on his shoes.
Not long ago, he and Loki had been tangled in the sheets behind the bedroom door.
Now, Loki was being pumped with golden fluid that Andromeda had signed off on, some spectacular concoction that was supposed to slow bleeding at a biological level.
Science over magic; they would see how that would work out.
“Mobius,” Loki said again, the soft noise akin to a whimper.
Mobius didn’t know if he could wipe the scowl from his face but he turned and walked from the foot of the bed to Loki’s side.
“Hey,” he managed, aching in every joint and muscle, especially the heart.
If he could choose to turn off the hurt and anger, he would do so in an instant.
Right then, they were stuck with it.
“I’m sorry,” Loki croaked.
His voice sounded like it had been ripped raw by sandpaper.
Mobius’s moustache twitched with the thinning of his lips and he took a slow sip of chocolate.
Loki’s brow shone with cold sweat and his cheeks were sunken. Every terrible detail of their predicament sent Mobius’s mind spiralling and his heart racing. The poor muscle was at risk of giving out if Loki took any further turn for the worst.
“Stop apologising,” Mobius said, gruffly, “It doesn’t help.”
Upset, Loki stared at him, hand weakly reaching for him.
The ice around Mobius’s words thawed quickly and he decided, for the better for Loki, to latch onto what was really important.
“Look Loki,” Mobius said, “This is just…I mean look at you! You’re dying in front of me.”
He grabbed Loki’s hand and softened the clutch of his fingers as Loki winced.
He carefully brought Loki’s knuckles to his lips and pressed a strong, long kiss to them.
“I already almost lost you at least twice,” Mobius said, “I know you’re gonna make it. I’ve just said that so many times, haven’t I? ‘You’ll make it’ or ‘You’ll make it back’.”
Loki lightened, his lips curving into a smile.
“Miss Minutes said you had an hour left. I had to do something,” Loki said hoarsely, “I am sorry, Mobius. I had to…do it.”
“You didn’t,” Mobius argued, straining to keep his voice gentle, “Not at the cost of your own life.”
“I can handle it,” Loki winced.
Mobius sighed raggedly and pulled a hanky from his fresh suit’s breast pocket.
Carefully, he wiped the cold sweat from Loki’s brow, heart skipping as Loki closed his eyes at the touch.
“Stay awake,” Mobius ordered.
“I am,” Loki said, “I’m just…lucky you’re here.”
“It’s not luck, it’s pure stupidity on your part,” Mobius bickered, “It should be me in that bed.”
“If it were, you’d be dead,” Loki’s eyes snapped back open and pinned him down.
Mobius’s moustache bunched again, scrunching discomfort. He squeezed Loki’s hand tightly and wiped the rest of the cold sweat from Loki’s temples.
“Just focus on making it through this,” Mobius said, “I’ve got another millennia worth of arguing with you about this in me.”
Loki smirked and Mobius broke, leaning down and kissing the corner of Loki’s mouth and his smile line.
He ignored the watchful eyes of Sylvie and their other friends as Loki pushed into the kiss, shaking as he turned his face to meet Mobius’s lips properly.
“You can’t stay angry for that long,” Loki said against his lips.
“Yes I can,” Mobius promised.

Chapter Text

Mobius couldn’t shake B-15 or Sylvie, no matter how many twists and turns he took.
“I don’t need you guys nipping at my heels,” he sighed.
“We’re making sure you don’t do something stupid,” Sylvie replied.
Mobius replied, “Thanks for the candor, Syl.”
“She’s right though,” B-15 said, “I know you’ve got your tempad on you and Earth year 2189 is still labelled as a shortcut.”
Mobius scowled, watching his own feet as he stalked towards the Automat.
He wasn’t even hungry, he simply needed to be anywhere else, just for a breather. OB and Casey were with Loki and they were more than capable of keeping the god stable and safe, OB’s strange machines beeping and driving Mobius closer to insanity.
As he pushed through the doors, he made a beeline for the nearest pie and ignored the fact that it was Guava.
He couldn’t stand the Guava pie.
He sat down with a clatter of cutlery and a storm brewing between his brows.
Sylvie pulled out a chair with a jarring screech of the legs against the floor and sat down opposite him . B-15 fiddled with the drink dispensary in the background, using her own tokens to buy Mobius a hot tea.
“Mobius,” Sylvie said seriously, “I know this is hard-“
Mobius jabbed a heaping spoon of guava pie into his mouth to avoid talking. Its plastic, too-sweet taste assaulted his mouth and he grimaced.
“-but you need to think clearly. Yes, Loki’s gone and taken this out of our hands but he was right about one thing. He has far more time than you would’ve. We could’ve been having a completely different conversation right now if he hadn’t taken the wound from you. If you were even still alive to have that conversation.”
B-15 joined them, sitting quietly as she nudged the steaming herbal tea in Mobius’s direction.
Mobius heaped another load of cream onto his spoon.
“This ‘Victor Tempora’,” Sylvie said, “Needs to be dealt with and I’m not going to let you do this alone.”
“It’s going to take more than a knife and him sitting still for you to take this variant down,” Mobius bit.
Sylvie’s face contorted into a scowl but B-15 lay a hand on her elbow.
“Before you even think of seeing Tempora again, we’re going to need to assemble a team. I didn’t know the extent of Tempora’s influence and weaponry at the time and I’m sorry Mobius. I take responsibility for leaving you both ill-equipped.”
“Don’t say that,” Sylvie shook her head.
“No,” Mobius agreed, “There’s no way you’d have known. And if it’s anyone’s fault, its mine. I got stabbed because I insisted on a measured approach and look where that’s got us.”
“We can sit here playing the blame game all day but right now, one of us is bleeding out in a shitty hospital cot in Mobius’s living room,” Sylvie sighed, “Loki’s already done so much for us, it’s time we gave something back.”
“We can agree on that too,” Mobius mumbled, pushing smushed lumps of guava pie around his plate.
His mind kept drifting back to Loki’s pale face, the sweat running down his temples and the blood-stained gauze.
Mobius was in a constant battle between his anger at Loki taking the mortal wound from him without choice, and the desperate urge to remain by his side, fingers locked around his wrist.
If Loki’s pulse were to even falter a little, he felt like he should be there.
Yet there was an even more pressing emotion; the clawing, vicious need for revenge.
Mobius was a kind and gentle man, at least he liked to think so. He didn’t deny his sharper edges, the cutting sides of him that Loki had been on the receiving end of way back when they first met and Mobius had presented Loki with the cold, hard facts of his mother’s death.
He was a double-edged sword and he felt closer than ever to the coin face of himself that could be impatient and cruel and vengeful if he needed to be.
Victor Tempora more than deserved it.
Mobius may have been healed, but he would not forget the cold nausea of that blade and how it made his guts feel like they were being seared.
The blade that now had sliced open the love of his life.
“Let’s start with the facts,” Sylvie said, “What we know.”
“I’ve got the date Loki and Mobius infiltrated the function on,” B-15 whipped out her tempad and started typing away, “Earth. The year 2189 and specifically, this is branch 9045, Earth-9045. Hence why the Loki on that timeline has been tagged by this number.”
Mobius was listening distractedly, plotting out the grip on the timestick that would be best in combat. It had been a long time since he’d seen proper action such as a physical fight.
Chases were a given as an analyst, as he’d been reminded when he and Loki had visited the Sacred Timeline’s 1893 Chicago Fair.
He wanted to see Victor explode into sparks and know that he would be lost and alone, at the mercy of the jaws of Alioth.
“Since Loki is…out of action, we have two options. Neither of them particularly pleasant,” B-15 said.
“So long as it gets me and a knife close enough to Tempora then I’m all ears,” Sylvie replied, leaning closer to the tempad.
Mobius set his spoon down to face Sylvie, imploring her with his strict blue eyes.
“Sylvie, Tempora takes magic from Lokis. That’s going to put a target on you,” he warned.
Sylvie shrugged, her blasé attitude grating his frayed nerves.
“I can handle it. Loki only got nuked because he took a risk, an admirable one don’t get me wrong! I won’t hesitate to kill this bastard where he stands,” Sylvie said.
“The two options,” B-15 cleared her throat, interrupting the tense exchange, “Are this. We can head straight to Tempora’s next function which, on the limited information I can gather from the developing timeline, is three days from when he met you and Loki. Or, there’s the alternate route.”
“What’s that?” Mobius licked some cream from the corner of his mouth.
“We go back. We find Loki 9045 and see exactly what happened to him,” B-15 explained, “We can’t interfere, it would only cause another branch. We need to get Tempora on his developing timeline. But if we observe how this other Loki died and how Tempora uses the magic and machinery together, we have a chance at outwitting him and saving our Loki.”
“Surely we can just prune Tempora,” Sylvie said.
“Not if we can’t get close enough to him,” B-15 countered.
“His study exists outside of time,” Mobius rubbed at the spot between his brows, “If he’s in there, we have no way of getting to him without Loki.”
“How did Loki even bring you back with him? I didn’t know he could timeslip with another person,” Sylvie frowned.
“I don’t know,” Mobius sighed heavily, “But maybe if you can enchant some associates of his, we can get some more answers.”
Sylvie nodded, liking the idea and Mobius returned to his pie as B-15 began to rattle off the semantics to her.
Mobius would clue himself into the full plan later on.
He scraped the remainder of his pie into the bin and stood abruptly.
“I’ll meet you both later,” he said to the air, uncaring if they heard as he made his way back to his room.

…

Loki was dreaming.
Mobius figured as much because Loki was sweating heavily, twitching and saying his brother and mother’s names over and over again in a soft whimper.
“It’s okay,” Mobius said softly, gently sweeping Loki’s black hair from his forehead.
Mobius had never felt so ill.
Physically, he was fine, save for the bruising from the cannula he had yanked out of his hand.
Mentally, he needed to sleep for a thousand years and expunge Loki’s fearful eyes from his memory for good.
Loki gasped weakly and Mobius held his cheek in a callused hand, rubbing his thumb over Loki’s cheekbone.
“What a mess, huh?” Mobius chuckled weakly, “Couldn’t go one week without a disaster, could we Pussycat?”
Vulnerable and taking shallow breaths, Loki reacted to the nickname with a shiver that made his eyelashes bat Mobius’s thumb.
“I want you to know I’m still pissed off,” Mobius sighed, “But more than that…I think you’re the bravest person here. What other madman would trade places with someone who had been stabbed, huh?”
Loki settled slowly and Mobius decided he could hear him.
“That’s it, just rest,” Mobius said gently, “Syl’s on the war path for you, by the way. Tempora isn’t gonna know what hit him.”
Loki didn’t respond, but Mobius imagined the pleased smirk that would’ve teased those wily lips at the mention of his sister-variant’s volatility.
Despite the tension between them over pie, Mobius was glad B-15 had called her in. He hadn’t anticipated that Sylvie would rush to his bedside but it warmed him, knowing she secretly cared a lot more than she let on.
“I keep thinking about what you said, before the Loom and everything,” Mobius spoke to the tiny room, unable to look as Loki as he winced in pain within his sleep.
“You said “Trust me”,” Mobius sighed, “And I’ve never trusted you. Not fully.”
He was glad Loki wasn’t awake to look at him with pained eyes.
He needed to finish what he wanted to say.
“I’ve started to trust you,” Mobius whispered, “Since you didn’t leave. You made it through the Loom and you fixed it.”
Loki stirred under the bed sheets, his ruined shirt growing more crimson with the staining of red leaking from his gut.
Mobius sniffed, throat thick and eyes moistening.
“I trust you not to leave me now,” Mobius said, “I’m going to find out what they did to the other Loki and I’m coming back to help you.”
Loki’s eyes fluttered, glimpses of green visible as they rolled behind his lids. He was trying to wake up, trying to reach him.
Mobius carefully swept a bead of sweat from the space beneath Loki’s eye.
His skin was puffy where exhaustion bruised it in lavender and the soft blossoms of blue hue were beginning to appear again, Loki’s Jotunn heritage seeping through as his body struggled to fight against the Time Knife’s curse.
“Hey, Loki,” Mobius said, “Hey. Stay with me.”
Loki shuddered and a weak gasp rattled through his lips.
“You’ve got this,” Mobius insisted, “Loki, you don’t die like this. Not now.”
The rasp his friend turned love gasped sent a painful lance of fear into Mobius’s gut, so strong it should’ve drawn blood.
Mobius craned himself over the hospital cot, bending over to place his lips against Loki’s clammy forehead.
“C’mon Loki,” he whispered, “For all time, remember? You’re part of it. The TVA, our rag-tag bunch of variants…we need you. I need you.”
Loki’s restless chest settled, his breathing evening out.
The subtle beep of OB’s strange device clamped to Loki’s wrist started to calm; Mobius had tuned the worrying noises out, focused on the god lying limp in those horrible cotton bedsheets.
Mobius barely moved, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of Loki’s middle that was lightly draped in the godforsaken sheets. The blood was disappearing, the wound healing as it had done several times already, the flow of time contained by the cut reversing.
Loki was stable again.
“Mobius,” Loki’s voice was a weak whisper warming his cheek.
“Hey sweetheart,” Mobius murmured.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t what?” Mobius replied, pulling back.
Loki’s eyes were slowly opening, “Don’t…get hurt again. I can’t save your life this time.”
*That* smile greeted him and Mobius scoffed indignantly.
“Shut up,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to Loki’s jaw, earning a gentle sigh of contentment.

…

2189 - Earth

Sylvie was clad in asgardian armour, a black and emerald vision of death in waiting. B-15 snuck an appreciative look, smiling to herself.
Mobius nodded to the complete crown on Sylvie’s head, both golden horns pristine and glinting in the city lights.
“Advertising yourself for Tempora, are you?” Mobius smirked lightly.
“If he’s so clued up on Lokis, he’ll know the moment I set foot in that atrocious building,” Sylvie pointed at the towerblock.
“We’re not going in through the front doors anyway,” B-15 said, “We’re taking the sewer route.”
“Oh joy,” Sylvie groaned.
Mobius wasn’t thrilled but needs must.
They’d decided on confronting Tempora, preferring not to risk creating another timeline by going back to observe Loki-9045 first.
That was the back-up plan; should they fail to infiltrate, Loki-9045 was their next best shot at discovering the true nature and purpose of Tempora’s device.
The minutemen stood on standby back at the TVA, their squad linked to B-15 and her orders through her tempad’s rigged alert.
Hit the panic button and they’d rush in to make the arrest.
“So…down we go,” Mobius huffed, looking at the manhole.

…

The smell was positively putrid.
Mobius was shocked that mankind hadn’t progressed past the point of underground waste mazes by 2189, yet it felt unfair to judge seeing as he’d had all of time and space to admire other planets’ technologies.
B-15 led the pack, Sylvie trailing behind as she scraped her boots off on the concrete.
“Oh, so the fuse boxes are chromatic and high-tech, but this river of bodily waste didn’t get done up in the memo?” she groused.
“It’s a bit disappointing, isn’t it?” Mobius agreed.
The inane grumbling kept his mind from spiralling back to Loki, sweating and fading in that clinical bed.
Wrapping his arms around Loki’s bare stomach and kissing into his collarbone affectionately felt like a distant memory, as Loki’s life now hung in the balance.
“We need to focus,” B-15 said, as she subtly kicked a despicably old looking pile of paper and sludge back into the running water running adjacent to them.
“Oh, gross…that’s foul,” Sylvie gagged.
“Exit’s coming up,” B-15 was grimacing but otherwise unbothered and focused, “Be on your guard.”
On cue, she pulled her timestick from her belt. Mobius was carrying his at his side, the cylinder slick in his sweating palm.
There was the forboding sound of a machete-sword being unsheathed and Mobius glanced back to see Sylvie’s jadeite blade glistening in the cold white floodlights that lit the sewer.
It was sharpened enough to split a hair.
“Hold tight Syl, we’ll ascend from Hel soon,” Mobius promised.
He couldn’t wait to be free of the dank, offensive and humid air.
“I’ve got your back,” Sylvie replied, “Don’t fall off the ladder, I don’t plan on drowning in human waste.”
Mobius grimaced and gave her a thumbs up with his free hand.
As they reached the ladder to the hatch above, B-15 started to climb, rust flaking away in chunks under her gloves.
The trio climbed one by one through the man hole that opened into a starkly mundane basement.
Mobius turned to offer a chivalrous hand to Sylvie who gripped him with a strength that
pulled her light, athletic body up in one flourishing move, using him as leverage.
“Finally,” she shivered, inspecting her cloak and unsheathing the sword she had stowed away for the climb.
They’d come to no trouble as B-15 had used a strange device to cut the manhole open from beneath and Mobius followed Sylvie’s lead, grasping the timestick and pulling free from the strap round his waist.
B-15 held her tempad out like a compass and Mobius stared at the spiderwebs draping from ceiling to floor like lace curtains.
The basement had been neglected for atleast a good four decades and been around for closer to ten decades.
How the modernised building remained standing was a mystery.
“I’ve locked onto his temporal aura, but it’s saying “unspecified location: unable to attain position”. Was this what you and Loki encountered?” B-15 turned to Mobius.
Mobius nodded, “We got ridiculously lost. The study of this variant exists beyond our perceived reality.”
“So, are we cutting our way in?” Sylvie touched her blade’s hilt.
“Hold your horses,” Mobius said.
“Too many civilians," B-15 shook her head, “We’re going to have to try something else.”
Mobius exhaled heavily.
Sylvie pursed her lips.
“Then how about we draw him out?”

Chapter Text

OB was assessing a significant change on Loki’s chart when the machine alerted that his friend was flatlining.
The screech was high, a keening whine that set every synapse off in OB’s logical, calm mind.
“Loki!” he shook Loki’s shoulder.
Loki’s body shook limply with OB’s movements, his head lolling.
OB brought his hand to Loki’s chest, his own pulse booming in his ears.
This couldn’t be happening.
OB was all alone!
The monitor continued to whine, letting it be known to all that this could be the final curtain.
OB was quick to act. He slapped a hand against his tempad and the voice message accessory flashed up, connecting him to Casey. He spoke as he worked, readjusting the wires in a frenetic frenzy and grabbed the syringe that Andromeda had delivered.
He said a silent prayer for Loki and himself.
“Casey, contact Mobius immediately. Emergency. Loki’s destabilised. I’m reviving him now,” OB rattled off quickly.
“What?! Loki…no!”
”Do it now, Casey.They need to know, I have to act now,” OB ordered.
The call cut out without argument and OB split the front of Loki’s shirt open. His stomach was covered in oily, miscoloured blood.
Without hesitation, OB summoned all of his coordination, control and concentration to aim directly for Loki’s heart and slammed the needle into his chest cavity, pushing the plunger.
With a violent shudder, a gasp and the quiet switch of the monitor readjusting, Loki’s pulse reappeared on the screen, beeping slowly.
“Come on, friend,” OB said, “We all need you. I know you’ve got this.”
OB was a man of good faith and he watched loyally over Loki as his rattling breaths started to calm, his chest rising and falling in smooth tandem.
”Jeez that was close,” OB wiped at his brow.
It was the first time he had had to use the revival syringe, a concoction of unknowable ingredients and good old fashioned adrenaline. Whether Loki would survive another episode like that, OB feared the answer to.
He stretched for his tempad and rested it by Loki’s side, typing away but remaining close. He hit ‘call’ on the tempad under B-15’s name and waited for her to answer.

…

Casey was calling him and Mobius fumbled for the tempad. The blinging noise made his jacket pocket vibrate and the thrum of voices around them covered his search for the singing device.
Sylvie prowled the dance floor, weaving between chatting guests with a smile a thousand watts bright; a predator walking in their midst.
It was the same party he had infiltrated with Loki with most of the guests still wrapping their lips around their drinks.
“Hi, I can’t talk right now Casey, we’re about to-“
He held the tempad close to his face, straining to hear the frantic rambling of Casey through the device.
“Mobius! OB…and he said that…you need to…now!”
”What? I can’t hear you, buddy. Slow down,” Mobius whispered directly into the device’s receiver.
Sylvie stepped towards the Temporal device, slipping into a conversation with a pair of rich businessmen sporting golden suits. They looked her over appraisingly, a lascivious slake of lust in their eyes that made Mobius secretly, putridly sick.
“Mobius, it’s…Loki…and he…fade if you don’t…now!”
Loki?
Mobius’s blood rushed to his head, dizzying him. His pulse pounded like a bass drum in his temple, his blood pressure climbing.
What did Casey mean by fade?!
”What’s wrong with Loki?! Casey, we’re about to draw out Tempora, if I can make it out once Sylvie pulls off this part of the plan, I can-“
”I…Ob calling…call you back soon,” Casey rushed his reply.
Mobius’s throat was assaulted by the feeling of a rock lodged in his trachea.
Loki was fading, that was what he had been trying to say. Mobius wasn’t there and the being he loved, was dying whilst Mobius grappled for an remedy to the Time Knife wound.
He swallowed the urge to expel the contents of his near-empty stomach and bid Casey goodbye as the connection ended.
Sylvie gestured by her hip, a flick of three fingers that spelt that she was ready for action and Mobius needed to bolt.
And bolt he would.
He had to find B-15 and work out how he was going to do this.
The TVA had only a past, present and future running in linear form. Mobius could cross timelines and blink from prehistoric human history to chromatic futures all he pleased outside of the establishment but the facts were that the TVA was the exception. It ran in tandem to Mobius’s personal experience of time and Loki would be dead and gone with no way to change his fate if they didn’t act.
The only person that could travel to the past, within the TVA, was Loki.
Mobius bit into his lower lip, fingers crunching into his palms.
He had to see this through, at least so Sylvie could safely enact her plan and they could be a step closer to one of them bringing Tempora to justice.
They needed that cure.
Mobius subtly nodded and Sylvie flashed him a grin, lighting her hands up green.
The magic took her admirers by surprise and they stumbled back, glaring in shock and fear as magnificent horns sprouted from the simple golden band that adorned her brow.
With a mischievous smirk, Sylvie cast a wide arc of glowing magic and the wave swept through the crowd, knocking everyone off their feet.
Champagne flutes shattered, handbags were sent spinning and Mobius had fallen into a crouch, sheltering himself behind a pillar.
Chaos broke loose as patrons screamed and frantically pulled at their dates and friends, scrambling away from the beautiful, chaotic intruder.
Sylvie then turned to the Temporal device and Mobius made for the doorway, slipping away unnoticed as patrons began to recover their luxury belongings rather than saving their own skins.
He was pinned against the wall as a rush of people found their feet and barralled past him, the tempad nearly crushed against him. His pulse thundered in his throat, beating his skin from the inside.
If the rush didn’t pass soon he was going to lose the time he had to send B-15 the emergency message and go to Loki’s bedside.
From his awkward position, Mobius caught a glimpse of Sylvie meddling with the temporal device and there was a sickly shift in the air. The crowd thinned as the patrons made for the stairs and lifts, designer jewellry broken underfoot where it had been dropped. The nausea that began to mingle with Mobius’s everpresent worry for his partner became a glaring, physical menace. It reminded me of being in Tempora’s office, the blade passing through his flesh like a hot knife through butter.
With a crash, Sylvie sent him a wink and smashed her fist through the glass container.
Seidr began to flow up her arms, her eyes glowing eerily as she absorbed the Loki Variant’s entrapped magic, freeing it from its prison.
The plan was working.
Mobius pulled his tempad free and hastily sent a quick message to B-15.
‘Loki destabilised. Be back in five. Whatever happens…sorry. I promise.’
And he meant it.
Whatever happened, he wouldn’t abandon B-15 and Sylvie, though they were heartily capable and formidable on their own backs.
Sylvie’s arms were veined with green, overpowered and hosting the displaced magic of a dead Loki. The nausea that plagued Mobius grew stronger and as reality began to warp around him, colours bleeding and running, he stepped through a summoned time door, giving Sylvie a confident nod.
She nodded back to him, her figure distorted in the temporal disturbance occurring as Tempora began to manifest his exit from his study.
Mobius saw her flee through the window, thirteen stories up, as he left to rush to Loki’s bedside.

…

B-15 got Mobius’s message and her lips were a thin, grim line. Her heart fluttered anxiously at the implication that maybe there were going to be too late. She couldn’t imagine what would become of her dear friend if he lost Loki. She’d never seen a pair at the TVA so wrapped up by the other, and she’d seen her fair share of illicit office romances since even before the reformation of the organisation.
After all, they were all - most of them - humans with their memories wiped.
Beyond that, B-15 had come to deeply appreciate Loki’s passion and drive; he was a hard worker, a devoted friend and appeared to love her close friend more than she could’ve ever deemed possible for a variant of someone like himself.
His repeated sacrifices were tragic testimony to that fact.
She couldn’t imagine not seeing that shit-eating grin of mischief leering at her around the corners of the archives.
As she ruminated, Sylvie descended from the thirteenth floor, seidr gushing from her fingertips and snaking up her arms in frightening pulsing tendrils.
The Goddess looked formidable and exhausted, her brow creased by exertion as she hovered and plunked down onto the concrete.
“All good?” B-15 looked her over, concerned.
“It’s…a lot,” Sylvie breathed, eyes glowing erratically, “But I can hold it for now. Tempora is on the way and I can smell the rage from here.”
“Good, we should move on, draw him out to the square and deal with his men first. You can give this power bump a test drive.”
Sylvie’s uncomfortable expression tweaked into a mischievous but also concerningly murderous smirk. Patrons from the crashed party were still shouting amongst and at one another as they left the building, some barefoot as they scattered into the maze-like streets.
“Back up on the way?” Sylvie questioned.
“Already pinged,” B-15 held up her tempad, smiling at Sylvie with a sprinkle of fondness.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Sylvie grinned.

…

“…is that you, Darling?”
“Yeah, it’s me Loki,” Mobius said thickly, “I’m here.”
Mobius took Loki’s cheek into his palm, alarmed at the clammy feel of his cool skin. His eyes were unfocused and rolling, blood loss affecting the turn of that beautiful mind Mobius adored more than anything.
In the thick of his struggle though, he could sense Mobius.
“You gotta pull through this, okay? I don’t want to do any of this without you,” Mobius whispered, “You gotta keep fighting Loki. For all of us. For you.”
“…that’s my line,” Loki smiled sleepily, eyes closing.
Mobius patted his cheek affectionately, hoping to also keep him lucid.
“If you stick around I won’t have to thieve your anecdotes to keep myself sane,” Mobius laughed sorrowfully.
“I’m still here,” Loki nodded, eyes still closed, “I’m where I belong.”
Mobius nodded, “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re here and most importantly, you’re not alone. We’re all fighting for you.”
“I dont think I…have enough time,” Loki breathed shallowly, “That’s what I wanted. More time…”
Mobius stayed silent a moment and found that he could not pursuade himself to not ask.
To not beg.
“Give the wound back to me then,” Mobius said, “Your magic took it from me, you can give it back and…and stall it somehow.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Mobius’s hands trembled.
“I said no,” Loki didn’t open his eyes, speaking as if in the thrall of a dream.
“Loki-“ Mobius started to argue.
“I won’t put you back on a path to death,” Loki wheezed.
“And you won’t die in my place. You can’t Loki. This isn’t fair,” Mobius gritted his teeth.
“It’s not about being fair,” Loki struggled but he managed to open his eyes, gaze fierce and defiant.
“You didn’t give me the choice. You took the wound away when I was comatose and we didn’t even get to discuss the implications. Now you’re dying and you expect me to sit here and watch!”
Loki blinked at him, skin sallow with sweat beading on his sickly brow. He looked as vulnerable as Mobius had ever seen him and yet he couldn’t contain his pain, his anger.
Resentment that Loki had survived the temporal radiation of a multiverse to now be at peace with dying from a time slash, just to save him, after they’d only just begun to be something.
How was he ever supposed to rationalise accepting the being he loved dying in his place?
“It should be me,” Mobius breathed, “I’m a tired old analyst, I’ve had my time-“
“No. I am far older than you Mobius, I am a God,” Loki bit back weakly, “I’m doing this because I love you.”
“If this is your version of love, then I don’t want it,” Mobius hissed, voice trembling.
Loki looked as if Mobius had struck him, flinching as much as his body would let him as Mobius’s cutting words landed a devastating blow.
They sat in silence, the monitor beeping like a metronome, counting the passing seconds of their bond beginning to tear at the seams.
They were two people, frantic and solid in their resolve to protect each other.
“If that’s how you feel, then I respect that,” Loki whispered, “But I won’t change my mind.”
Mobius’s lips pressed painfully together, moustache bunched in a way that would usually elicit a small teasing comment from Loki.
Instead, they stared at one another, pained and caught in a stalemate. Mobius knew he wouldn’t leave his side, not until he was certain he was stable again.
There was no reprieve from the painful echo.
They were trapped in the stagnant air of Mobius’s words, words he could not retract.
“You should,” Mobius said, his voice losing strength, “You need to change your mind.”
“What is my other option, Mobius? Watch the human man I rewrote time for, die in my arms?” Loki’s voice appeared to be fuelled by adrenaline.
He had attempted to sit up and was abruptly humbled by a flash of pain.
“It would be my choice,” Mobius answered, “A choice you didn’t afford me when you spent centuries working on the Loom and didn’t tell me.”
Loki sighed and his eyes fell shut again, his face turning away. Mobius bowed his head. He was stubborn and would not soften this for Loki’s sake; he was committed to the truth and wouldn’t stray from his dedication to it.
Quietly, he looked over his sparse but cramped living room and kitchenette before settling his eyes on his tangerine, retro kettle.
“Do you even know how long I’ve loved you Loki?” Mobius murmured.
He felt his God’s eyes on him but he kept his gaze on the kettle. His tempad was burning a figurative hole in his pocket, reminding him that their friends were out there, fighting for a solution and here Mobius was, arguing with the sickly person they were risking their lives to save.
“First time I saw you training, in the time theatre,” Mobius mumbled, “You were the human equivalent of twenty five. You beat Lady Sif in a knife throwing contest and when you struck that final blow, right in the brow of the dummy, you had this…wicked glimmer in your eyes.”
Loki listened, saying nothing.
“I’ve picked that mad look out of your files ever since. You’re brilliant, ecstatic. What else was a grin like that going to do to an old fool, huh?” Mobius released his gaze from the kitchenette and turned back.
Loki’s eyes were moist, tears threatening to spill.
Mobius continued, “I don’t need a God to sacrifice themselves for me. I need a God that stays. A Loki that remains.”
Loki winced at the pun and a miserable smile coated Mobius’s lips.
“I just need you to stay,” Mobius said, “No more heroic shit, just you and me, time and space. Order and chaos. Is that too much to ask?”
“We can’t have that if you’re dead in my stead,” Loki replied softly, “So I did what I had to. For you.”
“Whether I like it or not,” Mobius groused.
“Exactly,” Loki sighed.
His body gave in to the recently replaced pillow on his hospital gurney, plush support cradling his head. Mobius leaned over then, angling himself towards Loki.
He steadily leant down and lay a kiss between Loki’s brows, smoothing the stressed line of agony and heartache away.
As he retreated, an apology on his lips, OB burst into the room, arms full of notes and a time loop coordinator in his grasp.
“Guys,” he breathed, “I have a temporary solution!”

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.

Chapter Text

Loki felt the magic course through his veins like liquid fire. It lit him up from the inside, activating parts of his brain that had begun to forget the centuries he had spent in loops trying to fix the loom. Speckled throughout the torturous traipse through his personal history, was L-9045. 

The variant’s magic manifested memories in Loki’s brain in a first person perspective, giving him a front row seat to the friendship the variant had had with Victor Tempora. 

Helplessly trapped in the film reel of burning visions, Loki watched as his variant paraded Tempora’s building as if he owned the place, decadent emerald suit shining like gossamer under the stark lights. His ornately braided hair and charming demeanour turned the heads of Tempora’s clientele and it was evident he was highly favoured by all genders, the amount of smiles thrown his way akin to a paparazzi flash mob of camera snaps. 

Loki caught L-9045’s reflection several times as the variant passed glass walls and mirrors, the confidence radiating off his identical face, tragic and numbing, all at once. 

Loki was too exhausted to thrash against the onslaught of flames licking through his blood and the rapid speed of the memories.

He was trying to voice Mobius’s name, if only to beg him to knock him out, when he heard an echoing voice boom through his mind. 

His own? 

No, it was slightly different. 

‘Let me in, if you both want to live.’ 

Loki, eyes closed against the pain wracking his weary form, tried to shake his head. 

Let me in. It’s my magic killing you both. I can help you. 

‘If you’re Loki’, Loki replied with his internal monologue, ‘How can that be? You’re dead.’

My body is rotting in the ground, yes. But what’s left of me is broken between you, the female ‘us’ and the Time Knife. Now, do you wish to live, or argue? 

‘How do I know I’m not hallucinating as I’m dying?’ Loki demanded. 

You don’t. So why not take the chance that I’m telling the truth? 

‘There are many fates worse than death. I would know.’ 

Trust me Loki. I can see inside your head; if you wish to be with the ones you love, you will let me in. 

‘If you trick me, I will find a way to expunge you from reality for good’ Loki threatened. 

I wouldn’t expect any less. 

Loki felt his body take a deep lungful of oxygen and he relaxed his mind, succumbing to the voice’s demands. 

As he did, his mind was blinded by green light and then everything faded to black. 

…

Mobius lunged at Loki as he gasped, shooting straight up into sitting. 

Beside him, Sylvie was gasping for breath, hacking and coughing as Casey fussed over her. 

Mobius gathered Loki into his arms, Loki’s face buried in his shoulder as he shook. 

“You’re alright,” Mobius repeated it like a mantra, over and over again, “You’re alright, sweetheart.” 

Loki and Sylvie had released each other’s hands and Loki’s quivering limbs wrapped around Mobius’s waist. 

“It all went black…Mobius, I-“ Loki was babbling nonsensically, “He spoke to me…he spoke in my head-“

“Who spoke to you? Loki, look at me-“ 

“He spoke to you too?” Sylvie’s voice cut through, leaning over from her bed. 

Casey’s hand remained on her shoulder, steadying her. 

Loki’s fingers stayed buried in the folds of Mobius’s jacket and Mobius caressed Loki’s back calmingly. The smell of blood, putrid with the poison of the weapon, was gone and yet he didn’t have time to soak up the fact that Loki appeared to be recovering. His nerves reacted subconsciously for him, making his fingers tremor as he soothed his God, both of them staring at Sylvie. 

“The variant…he told me to ‘let him in’,” Sylvie explained, uncharacteristically shaken. 

“Well…did you?” Mobius stared at them both in turn, “You didn’t listen to the voice…surely?” 

Loki and Sylvie returned his stare silently, confirming his fears. 

Mobius tightened his grip on Loki. 

“Neither of you are dead, so I guess so far we can count this as a win,” Mobius sighed heavily, “Maybe this guy’s on our side.” 

“Considering Tempora killed him, I’d like to think so,” Sylvie grimaced, stretching out her arms. 

She gave Casey a grateful nod and he lingered like a lost spirit. Mobius gestured to the tempad poking out of Casey’s satchel. 

“See if you can reach B-15,” he said, “If she’s finished with Tempora, we can meet with OB and figure out what the hell to do next.” 

“On it,” Casey said, “Stay safe guys.” 

Casey scuttled out of the room, his stress fleeing with him. 

Mobius was left alone with the God and Goddess and he took the opportunity to properly check Loki over. 

“Mobius, I’m alright-“ 

“Less than a minute ago, you were dying,” Mobius parried, “Let me check.” 

They parted for Mobius to lift Loki’s shirt and gently pry the corner of the soaked gauze away from his stomach. It had been replaced only a short while ago. 

Underneath, Mobius was confronted by a baffling sight. 

The gash looked as if it had scarred but was vaguely glowing, a shimmer of green and iridescence, like light split by a prism around the dominant colour. 

“How does it look?” Loki murmured. 

“Weird,” Mobius whispered, “But you’re not bleeding right now. Thank God.” 

Sylvie jumped off of her hospital gurney and started to straighten her clothes, whilst also rubbing at her temples. 

Mobius eased Loki off of his bed and was promptly pulled into a crushing embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry, Mobius. I-I’m…”

Mobius hushed him, shelving his more unsavoury angst for another day. There was no time to dwell on the simmering feeling of betrayal because at the present, it couldn’t be any less important. 

Loki was standing. 

Loki was holding him, breathing semi-normally, albeit through dry, heaving sobs. 

The being he loved was still with him, alive, heart thundering against him. 

Mobius pressed his lips firmly to the space beneath Loki’s ear. 

“Stop,” Mobius hushed, “There’s no need, Loki. I know why you did it.” 

“I’m still-“ 

“Enough,” Mobius reached for his face, cradling it in his hands as Loki barely pried himself from Mobius to give him the space. 

Mobius smoothed his thumbs in a slow circle over Loki’s cheekbones, sweeping away a stray tear. 

“You saved my life,” Mobius whispered reverently, “I might be pissed off about it, but gods, Loki. You are the most damn selfless person I’ve ever met.”

Loki laughed tearfully and Mobius broke too; uncaring that Sylvie was still in the time theatre with them, Mobius pressed forwards and kissed Loki passionately.

Loki responded in kind, lips caressing his hurriedly, unable to get enough contact fast enough to satiate the need to feel the other safely in their grasp. 

“Guys, I know this is a big moment for you but we might not be out of the woods yet,” Sylvie’s voice cut through the opaque, glorious glow of their reunion. 

Mobius and Loki parted slowly, stealing a second longer to commit the kiss to memory. 

Mobius was loath to fully release Loki from the embrace and linked their fingers together gently. 

“You both said you heard a voice,” Mobius said, “You’re sure it was the Loki variant? L-9045?” 

“I’m positive,” Loki squeezed his hand subtly, “He showed me glimpses of his memories, through his eyes.” 

“I saw the same,” Sylvie affirmed, “Before I collapsed. Then when you did whatever you did Loki, he was begging me to let him in, to help us.” 

Mobius blew out his cheeks, stress slowly creeping back into his body like an insipid poison. 

“Can you hear him now?” Mobius was afraid of the answer. 

Both Sylvie and Loki shook their heads at him. 

“So we’ve got that to worry about now too,” Mobius pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, “It’s just never ending.” 

“The first thing we have to do is find out what Tempora did to make that blade,” Sylvie said, jabbing a finger in the direction of Loki’s stomach, “I overheard Mobius saying the scar looks odd.” 

“I’m okay-“ 

“Bullshit, Loki,” Sylvie cut across before Mobius could retort the same, “You’re not dismissing this. We almost lost you.”

“If you won’t listen to me, listen to her,” Mobius backed Sylvie up, “It’s glowing. You’re not safe yet, not by a long shot.” 

Mobius tightened his grip on Loki’s hand, entwined fingers locked together. 

Loki met his eyes, visibly stressed and drained. 

“Let’s find B-15,” Loki said, “I promise I will let you both know if anything changes. I promise.” 

Mobius said nothing, secretly hoping that this was one promise Loki would keep, for all of their sakes. 

…

B-15 regarded Victor Tempora coolly, the man trussed up in a time collar and sitting with one leg crossed over the other. He acted as if they were having a rather boring business meeting and it rubbed her the wrong way. 

OB was miles below, tinkering carefully with the Time Knife. What he gleaned from his experiments would come in time. 

She just hoped that Loki was stable. 

“This is rather roomy, for a prison cell,” Tempora said demurely, “I feel as though I’m at the theatre.” 

“You’d be half right,” B-15 said stoically, “Maybe we should revisit your history?” 

“You can do that here? How intriguing,” he replied. 

“I think you’d find a lot of things here ‘intriguing’,” she narrowed her eyes, “Unfortunately for you, we’re only looking at your past.” 

B-15 carefully circled around him and tapped the projector, the pixels of the time theatre arranging to form an image. Tempora followed her eerily with his inscrutable eyes and turned slowly to face the image. 

B-15 crossed her arms. 

“Let’s start with the formation of the Temporal Device and then you can answer my questions about your intentions,” B-15 said, “For your sake, you’ll be honest and we’ll see what the judge thinks.” 

B-15 had no plans to give him anything beyond a trial. If there was one piece of propaganda that had stuck with her since before the overhaul of the TVA, it was that dangerous variants should be neutralised and erased from reality. 

No second chance, especially not for a variant of He Who Remains. 

The variant in Versailles had been harmless, allowed to remain on his timeline and monitored easily from the TVA. 

This man had to be terminated before he caused anymore damage. 

Maybe it was personal, but as the images began to flow, B-15 knew her judgement wasn’t just biased, it was aligned morally. 

For the first image she saw was L-9045 shaking hands with Tempora, the two exchanging pleasantries and a hearty clap on the shoulder. 

“Question,” B-15 kept her eyes on the screen, “This Loki was your business partner, correct?” 

“Yes,” Tempora said calmly, “A very clever and charismatic business partner at that.” 

B-15 made sure her voice recorder was on. 

“And you were aware of his capability for magic. Which is obvious,” B-15 said. 

“Indeed,” Tempora watched the screen.

“Second question,” B-15 said, “Did he know what you had planned for him?” 

“No,” Tempora replied simply.

B-15’s stomach turned and she covered her discomfort by touching the pruning stick at her belt. 

“You can skip forward to what you really want to ask,” Tempora said, beginning to drum his fingers against the table. 

The screen clicked and the pixels rearranged to show L-9045 in what B-15 presumed was Tempora’s study; the hidden room they hadn’t been able to find because it had been sequestered away, out of sync with time and reality. 

“Or I suppose we can watch,” Tempora looked at her slowly, turning his head, “And you can make your own deductions.” 

xxx

“You wanted to see me?” Loki smiled at his business partner. 

The decadent man crossed his emerald clothed arms, braids at his temples bobbing. 

Tempora turned to face him, a strange expression on his usually demure and relaxed face. He looked pinched and stressed, as if fighting an internal battle. 

Loki unfolded his arms. 

“Is there something wrong? Have we heard back from Richards?” Loki’s dark brows furrowed. 

“Yes,” Tempora said, voice low and taut, “Unfortunately, he is ahead of us by a long shot. And he will not agree to the generous deal we proposed.” 

“Ah, well that is unfortunate,” Loki replied, “We’re more than capable of stepping up our planning however. It’s no bother to us in the grand scheme of things, surely?” 

“Yes…” Tempora was distracted, eyes on a black case on his oak desk, “Quite.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I merely thought that I wouldn’t have to do this so soon…” 

Tempora walked over to the case and unhooked the latches, sequestering something under the long purple cloak he had worn for their earlier business meeting. 

Loki watched him, naive trust extended to his partner in business as Tempora rounded the desk and stood before him. 

“If you require it, I can charm a few more investors?” Loki offered, “If we had more cash flow, we could overtake in-“ 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Tempora shook his head, “You’ve done more than enough for me, my friend.” 

A sad, but not skin deep, smile decorated Tempora’s face.

“Well-“ 

“Although, there is one thing you can do for me, right now,” Tempora said softly.

Loki dutifully raised his brows, enquiring as to his next role in the plan. 

“Forgive me,” Tempora’s voice came out in a whisper. 

Detached. 

Void of feeling. 

Loki’s face dropped and he made to move forward. 

By way of doing so, he walked into the forward thrust of an Opalite coloured blade. It pierced him through the gut, blood splattering the floor. 

Loki seized up, face frozen in a death mask of betrayal and shock. Tempora regarded him without a flinch, twisting the blade, bringing Loki to his knees. 

The coiling mist of seidr began to exit Loki’s body via the wound, climbing up the handle of the knife. 

As Loki’s life drained away, pulled into the hungry draw of the strange weapon, Tempora did nothing other than twist the knife deeper. 

A hint of a smile perked his lips. 

xxx

B-15 did not make the mistake of lingering on the screen too long. 

She side-stepped away from the variant of He Who Remains and looked at him with untempered disgust. 

Tempora’s eyes slid to the left before his head turned fully, moving much like some ghastly creature that didn’t quite know how to appear human. 

“Do you have any thoughts, Miss?” He asked innocently. 

“You killed him for his seidr,” B-15 breathed, speaking through her teeth, “To what end?” 

“That, my dear, is yet to be explored,” he replied cryptically. 

The chilling, amused chuckle that reverberated from his lips left B-15’s skin crawling long after she left the room and let the minute-men return him to his holding cell. 

She could review the rest of the file alone, and work on her further questions. 

She couldn’t stand another second surrounded by Tempora’s chilling, nauseating aura. 

…

‘Your analyst is a glorious kisser.’ 

Loki stopped dead in his tracks. 

The voice bounced around inside of his head, a smarmy edge to its tone. 

“Loki?” Mobius looked at him, a few steps ahead as he noticed Loki had stopped walking.

‘Complimentary, of course. I might even go as far as to say I’m jealous. Feeling it through you must dampen the experience.’

“What are you doing?” Loki hissed aloud. 

“Huh?” Mobius stared at him. 

‘Now don’t go and confuse the poor man. You can tell him I’m here and pass on the compliment!’ 

Loki’s hands flexed at his sides and he crushed his eyes shut. 

Mobius was at his side in a blink, signalled by the warmth of his hand at Loki’s wrist. 

“Get out of my head-“ 

‘I can’t do that I’m afraid. That’s entirely the problem with not having a body anymore and after all, you let me in.’ 

“Loki, what’s wrong?” Mobius jostled his arm gently, “We can go to medical instead and get you checked out, the briefing on Tempora can wait-“ 

‘Such a gentleman. I’m excited to feel those lips against yours again-‘ 

“Shut up!” Loki snapped, eyes flying open. 

Mobius stared at him, eyebrows furrowed deep enough to bring a new line to his forehead. 

“Loki…is he talking to you right now?” Mobius questioned, “You’re being…weird.” 

“It’s nothing,” Loki shook his head viciously, “Let’s just go on our way. He’ll shut up in a minute…” 

Mobius blew out his cheeks and decidedly wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist, settling his hand on Loki’s hip. 

“The sooner we can work out this Time Knife shit, the sooner we can sort that out,” Mobius sighed, “Come on, Loki. We’ll get a slice of pie to pep you up.” 

Loki nodded absently and sunk into Mobius’s touch, ignoring the chuckle that emanated from the depths of his subconscious. 

Chapter Text

“Here you go, Lokes.” 

Mobius set the chocolate pie down in front of Loki, the dark, gelatinous surface reflecting a smudge of light. 

Mobius leant in, kissing his cheek. Loki smiled, turning his face to catch a second peck on the lips. 

Lokes? How droll, honestly you two are more sickening than that sorry excuse for a dessert. 

Loki closed his eyes. 

“Him again?” Mobius raised his brows. 

Loki nodded. 

“He’s giving his unwarranted opinion on our choice of dessert and our affections,” Loki said. 

“You can tell him to keep his thoughts to himself,” Mobius groused, “I’ll love my god and my desserts however I want.” 

Loki smiled. 

The niggling, cloying voice that sounded so much like himself, let out a chuckle. 

I can see why you like him. 

Loki’s smile perked, his shoulders loosening. 

“What now?” Mobius asked curiously. 

“I might have competition,” Loki remarked. 

“Pfft. He can dream,” Mobius rolled his eyes. 

If only I had a body- 

“That’s enough of you,” Loki grumbled, “This is my form, not yours!” 

Mobius laughed lightly at Loki’s outburst, softening the irate edges of his mood. 

He was never going to grow used to the sensation of an uncontrolled voice living alongside his inner monologue. 

Mobius’s dose of levity - that infectious sunshine smile - soothed his frayed nerves and he focused on quietening his mind. 

The mental exercise didn’t do much to subdue L-9045, but his voice appeared to dull; it sat in his subconscious like a quibbling afterthought, akin to having a song stuck in one’s head. 

“Have a big spoonful of that pie and see what you think,” Mobius distracted them, “I haven’t seen you try dark chocolate before.”

“If it’s anything like ‘milk chocolate’ then I’m sorry Mobius, I just can’t-“ 

“Nope,” Mobius shook his head, settling into his chair, “It’s bitter, decadent. Kind of like you.” 

“Hilarious,” Loki rolled his eyes, a playful hint to his lips. 

“We have to celebrate. You did just survive a near fatal stab wound,” Mobius said. 

Loki lifted his spoon and idly slipped it into the chocolate body of the pie. 

“I thought you were still furious with me for taking the wound from you,” Loki said. 

Mobius sighed audibly, regarding Loki softly. 

“Not furious. I’m pissed off, but I’m far more happy that you’re alive,” he said. 

“Likewise,” Loki said, loadedly. 

Mobius took a bite of his pie as Loki gazed at him. 

“I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Loki murmured, “You know that better than anyone.” 

Mobius swallowed his bite of pie. 

“…I didn’t mean what I said,” he replied, “About not wanting your love.” 

“I know,” Loki affirmed. 

“Really though,” Mobius locked their gazes, “I thought you were going to die and I won’t…I can’t accept you sacrificing yourself out of love for me.” 

“Is that not the best reason for sacrifice?" Loki laughed awkwardly. 

Mobius shook his head and took another bite of pie, breathing through the slow chew of creamy dark chocolate and flaky pastry. 

“I want you to live for something. You might have survived the Loom but you were comatose for a week. Then you saved my life again and almost bled to death. On the Sacred Timeline, you got your neck snapped for Thor and died in pain! I don’t want that for you, not for my sake, or anyone else’s,” Mobius insisted. 

Wow. Colour me impressed, L-9045 piped up in the back of Loki’s mind. 

Loki ignored him, smushing a spoonful of dark chocolate cream against his plate. 

“Miss Minutes told me you’d die, so I did what I could. And I’m glad I did it,” Loki replied unapologetically, “There is no TVA for me without you, Mobius. There is no me, since you saved me too.” 

 “…that’s gotta be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Mobius smiled, “And it’s still not enough to make me forget you almost died for me.” 

“Yet, I am the one who is supposedly bitter,” Loki loaded his spoon. 

Mobius said nothing and waited patiently for Loki to spoon the dessert into his mouth. 

As the dark chocolate hit Loki’s tongue, the explosion of flavour caught him off guard. His brightening eyes gave him away and Mobius clapped his hands together once in glee. 

“You like it!” 

“It’s not awful,” Loki smiled, eyes crinkling. 

“Finally, a dessert I can proudly say I found, that you like,” Mobius grinned. 

Not to my taste but I’m simply stuck with whatever you choose now, aren’t I? 

“Someone disagrees,” Loki rolled his eyes. 

“…He can taste through your senses?” Mobius paused, spoon buried in the creamy chocolate topping of his pie. 

Loki exhaled roughly, “Yes. Unfortunately, I appear to be sharing my form in that capacity.” 

“So when I kissed you-“ 

“He felt it,” Loki ripped the band aid off, so to speak, “And he’s been enragingly eager about it since, whether he’s mocking or not I can’t tell.” 

Oh, I’m not mocking Laufeyson. Truly his lips are a wonder.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Right…” Mobius blew out his cheeks, “Good to know.”

“I understand if you’re now uncomfortable,” Loki said quietly, “Considering I am technically harbouring a stranger in my body.” 

Mobius gave a hesitant smile and Loki prodded at his pie, unsure what his partner would say. 

“We’ll work something out,” Mobius responded softly, “Because I’m hardly going to give up being able to kiss you. Okay, Loki?” 

Funnily enough, this reply sent L-9045 into a contemplative quiet, leaving Loki’s mind blissfully clear. 

Loki smiled back, “Okay, darling.” 

…

Sylvie felt like a new woman in one way. 

On the other hand, she was furious. 

She had heard a voice echoing in her head. 

It was intermittent and smug when it did speak to her, claiming to be the variant of her and Loki Laufeyson. 

She did not take kindly to a Loki being in her head. 

Whilst he was quiet, she sought out B-15. 

B-15 was standing with OB, hovering over a screen in Repairs and Advancements. 

OB’s desk was a mess as always, with multiple screens displaying different sets of data. 

“What did Tempora have to say for himself?” Sylvie barged into the room. 

She wasn’t cross at either of them but could not contain her ire. 

B-15 swiveled round, looking tired and as angry as Sylvie felt. 

“Not much,” B-15 sighed, “But I saw what he did. Tempora killed the Loki of his timeline and used his essence to create the Temporal device and imbue the Time Knife with magic.” 

“Yeah and now I’ve got his voice chattering away in my skull,” Sylvie pointed to her temple. 

“What?!” OB and B-15 said at once. 

“He’s in here, like a passenger. Something happened when Loki took half of his power that I absorbed from the Temporal device. L-9045 is in my head!” 

“Interesting!” OB exclaimed and scuttled around his mess of wires and screens and artifacts. 

B-15 pulled away from the desk and OB got into Sylvie’s personal space, peering into her eyes. 

Sylvie scrunched herself smaller, confused. 

“What are you doing-“ 

“I can see nothing physically different about you,” OB hummed thoughtfully, “We’ll have to do some tests.” 

“What I can tell you is that he’s in Loki’s head too,” she sighed, “So whatever you can do, we need to reunite these bits of his soul or whatever so we can have our minds back.” 

“I’m not sure that’s going to work without a prospective body or vessel to store him in,” OB tapped at his chin. 

B-15 shifted uncomfortably, stressed beyond all reason as their day took a turn towards the more complex. 

I would be grateful if you don’t consider ‘storing’ me in an inanimate object again. Hardly a pleasant experience, L-9045 said within Sylvie’s mind. 

You can keep yourself quiet. I am not your puppet, Sylvie bit back via her thoughts. 

Of course ma’am, L-9045 groused, sarcastically. 

“Is he speaking to you, right now?” OB stared at her, “How intriguing!” 

“You can have him rattling around in your mind if you want,” Sylvie grumbled. 

“We need to speak with Loki and Mobius before we do anything drastic,” B-15 said, “How about those results on the Time Knife?” 

OB disappeared back to behind his desk and began assaulting his keyboard with lightning-quick typing fingers. He spun the screen round to show Sylvie and B-15 - and their accompanying Loki Variant by proxy - a screen full of data and spinning wheels. 

“Time loop technology, married to the fundamental essence of a ‘Loki’,” OB said, “The results I got from scanning our Loki whilst he was dying were very telling. Because Loki magic is ‘chaos incarnate’ - pardon me Sylvie! - it is easily manipulated by Tempora’s ingenuity and the conduit of the Time Knife is a stone of supernatural properties. It can work with the will of the user, allowing them to command the magic it has absorbed.” 

Sylvie scrunched her nose in distaste, scowling at the tumbling numbers as they made little to no sense. 

“So this means…?” 

B-15 was equally as lost, staring between them both with a headache brewing in her tired eyes. 

OB was as elated as ever, pointing out the new infographics on his screen which showed a pulsing twin set of coloumns that registered ‘energy’. 

“L-9045 has a similar skill set to our Loki,” OB declared, “He has all the potential of being able to control time, at a much lower level of course, and I think this might be what Tempora hopes to unlock. He didn’t know about our Loki but magic is magic to a scientist, so he’s creating weapons that can manipulate time in smaller ways. The Temporal device, that housed this Loki’s soul, is his largest experiment yet.” 

“He can hide his office in slices outside of time,” Sylvie deadpanned, “I’d say he’s already achieved that and more. Plus, He Who Remains didn’t need a Loki to create the bloody ‘Sacred’ timeline. So there has to be more.” 

“I think this is where B-15 comes in,” OB sighed through his nose at Sylvie’s ire, “Tempora is the only one who knows what he’s planning and if there are more Time Knives and additional weapons containing L-9045’s magic.” 

There’s one other person who knows what he was building, L-9045 said sulkily within Sylvie’s mind, If you so cared to ask. 

Go on then, Sylvie replied telepathically. 

B-15 and OB’s eyes were on her as she listened and her face fell. 

“What? What’s wrong?” B-15 asked. 

Sylvie looked at them gravely. 

“He was building a dimension cannon,” Sylvie said, “He told Loki 90- whatever, that they would be making deals with other dimensions and realities.” 

“Why do you look so worried?” OB frowned. 

“Because he’d made contact already,” Sylvie said, “With another Kang variant.” 

…

Loki and Mobius arrived at the same time as Casey, their intrepid team banding together in Repairs and Advancements. 

Loki promptly gave Sylvie a one armed hug, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Loki,” she smiled slightly, “If you can count having a disembodied voice rattling around inside me as ‘fine’.” 

Mobius gave her shoulder a friendly jostle once Loki had released her and they piled close to OB’s desk, Casey peering in over B-15’s shoulder. 

“L told us you needed us here, stat,” Mobius looked at Sylvie. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her expression derailing into a worrisome grimace, “There’s something you need to see.” 

“What is it?” Loki pressed close to the desk, staring into the monitor. 

“Tempora made contact with another variant before we took him in. The magic he took from L-9045 was mainly contained to the Temporal device and the Time Knife but he’s been using it in other ways too.” 

“So…we have an idea of what he’s been doing?” Loki raised a brow. 

“Yes, and it’s not good,” B-15 chipped in, “The variant he was in contact with is the one you met in Versailles. The one we were tracking.” 

Mobius froze beside Loki, exchanging a look with his partner. 

Loki bristled, “…and so?” 

“That variant is now missing. We can’t track him anymore,” OB explained. 

“But Tempora is still here right?! He’s still in custody?” Mobius blurted. 

As if on cue, an alarm blared from the bowels of the TVA. Their team all jumped and Sylvie looked at Loki and Mobius wildly. 

“We’re going to have to fill you in on the way up there,” she said, “Because it sounds like he’s just escaped.”