Chapter Text
Loki’s dramatic flair must have rubbed off on him.
That was the only reasoning Mobius could think of. He’d always perceived himself as more of a practical, pragmatic man, none too prone to dramatics or fantasy. He prided himself on being rational. Realistic.
He had lost track of how long it had been since he approached OB and asked for his help to free Loki. Time didn’t exactly work in the same way in the TVA as it did on the timelines. He knew it had certainly been a while.
Surprisingly, he hadn’t needed to convince him. They’d put in many long days. Many of which Mobius toiled away, any break or slow of pace only giving him time to think.
And with how messy his thoughts were at the moment, he didn’t want to face them, too afraid he’d get sucked in and dragged down into the spiraling whirlpool that had consumed him when Loki left again.
So he took another card from the Loki playbook (or at least, the Loki of old playbook) and he ran. Ran from his thoughts. Ran from his place on the timeline. Then ran from his thoughts again.
The TVA just hadn’t been the same, so he visited, however brief, his old life on the timeline. It hadn’t taken long until he realized that wasn’t his life anymore.
He watched himself— Don— playing with his boys, children that he knew next to nothing about. He had no home there, and the idea of trying to forge a new life for himself, outside of the TVA, outside of Loki, seemed impossible, even if the TVA no longer felt like home.
Not since Loki left, anyways.
The TVA brought him nothing but reminders of Loki. They’d spent so long (not actually, but it sure felt like it was) practically attached at the hip, traipsing the long corridors so close to one another that their shoulders brushed together with each step, that everywhere he turned just reminded him that Loki wasn’t here.
He’d grown so used to Loki’s presence that he hadn’t considered that would ever change. He’d always assumed that they’d find some sort of solution for the loom and then everything would be fine. They’d have the TVA to rebuild, sure, but he thought Loki would be there, by his side.
Not isolated from all of the friends he’d made. Not selflessly dooming himself to the lonely existence of protecting the timelines. Far, far away from Mobius.
Leaving Mobius with nothing but his memories, haunting him like a ghost with each empty chair.
The thought of Loki in the heart of Yggdrasil, alone— the very thing he hated yet seemed fated to be— pushed him forward when hopeless despair threatened to make him give up. How could he rest when Loki had already spent so much of his life alone? Ironic, how the very being that ensured that the whole of the multiverse had free will, seemed trapped by fate, alone.
So he and OB worked tirelessly. Their other friends also aided where they could (yes, even Sylvie, when it became apparent that they needed her), all of them working together to try to free Loki, to bring him home.
It seemed impossible at times. Long days stretched ahead, only seeming longer with the TVAs endless days, with nothing seeming to change, not even a hint of progress to be had. Those days were the hardest. There was barely any work he could do to help move anything along that he had no choice but to be faced with the realization that maybe it wasn’t possible. Not without risking the whole universe.
The truth of the matter seemed to threaten to drag him back to that listless, hopeless state that had initially sent him running from the TVA.
Yet the idea— the fantasy— of finally reuniting with Loki again kept him going.
His friends were an endless blessing. Whether they knew the truth or not, merely playing along out of the knowledge that Mobius needed this or out of their own desire to get Loki back, he wasn’t sure, but they never showed signs of slowing, of giving up.
It came as a relief that nearly made him collapse when OB looked up from a new reading of Yggdrasil that flashed across the screen, a look of shock so plain on his face.
The words, “The tree..its energy signature is different!”, sharply drew Mobius’ eyes to the screen.
Never before had he wished to understand the various lines and numbers on the screen more than he did in that moment.
“Different?” Mobius asked, brows crinkling in confusion, “Different how?”
“I’m not sure?” OB replied, his eyes rapidly flittering across the screen, his own brows pinched as he sought to understand, “Loki’s magic has a very distinct reading. It’s still there, but it’s different. Fainter, almost.”
For a brief, horrifying moment, Mobius’ heart seized. His hand jerked out to grab ahold on the countertop to steady himself as his knees threatened to give under the horrifying thought that maybe it was fainter because…
Surely they weren’t too late. Loki couldn’t be.. he was a God! He’s seen him survive against all odds on the timeline, at the TVA even.
Except that one time when he didn’t, his brain treacherously supplied.
Before his fears could get away from him too far, OBs eyes lifted to his face, an expression of shock and, dare Mobius interpret it as such, hope.
“Like Yggdrasil has developed a signature of its own. Like it’s become self-sustaining.”
Fingers clenched white knuckled on the countertop as the words sunk in, the relief that flooded through him nearly making him topple over again.
“Self-sustaining? Like.. like it doesn’t need Loki to keep it alive anymore?” He whispered, hardly daring to let himself believe it.
He couldn’t afford the false hope.
OB nodded, checking back to the screen, “I can’t be certain, but I think so. See, in earlier readings, there was very obviously the same signature as Sylvie’s—Loki’s— magic. He’s fueling the tree, keeping it alive here. But then, see here,” OB continued, flipping through various pages of previous readings he had printed to keep track of. It barely made sense to Mobius as he looked at them, but he hungrily lapped up the words tumbling excitedly from OBs mouth, “They start changing. It wasn’t much at first— I thought perhaps my sensors were off, but they kept changing. Some patterns of his signature are still there, but it’s different. Whatever it is, it’s growing stronger, almost masking over his signature.”
For a small man, OB could move when he wanted to. He scurried to another set of readings.
“Ah—! Yes! See here! The energy source is different too!” He pointed to some other diagrams, where blotches of color depicted the source of its magic— its life— apparent even to Mobius, “Before it was centralized, the source of its power was drawn singularly from Loki, at its base. But here—now—“ he pointed again to another chart, color lighting up throughout the whole trunk and branches of the tree, “It’s spread throughout, not from one point.”
OBs gaze finally lifted from the various charts, meeting Mobius’ eyes.
With his heart hammering against his ribs, the only words Mobius could think of slipped from his mouth, determined.
“I have to go get him.”
OB just nodded. A moment later, OB was a bundle of movement, his words tumbling quickly from his lips as he explained the ‘how’ to Mobius’ declaration, but Mobius was only partially there, too consumed by the thought of how it would be soon.
Soon, Loki would be here, back with him. Back with their friends.
He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.
The rest of the procession moved quickly, even if realistically, Mobius knew it was taking far longer than what it felt like. Hope had blossomed in his chest, fed and nurtured only further by real, concrete plans. He’d spent so much time with barely a wisp of hope that it could be achieved, that now that he had proof, the rest seemed to whirl past him in the explosion of activity that erupted in the control room.
The rest of their ragtag group reassembled from where they had scattered about their daily tasks. Distantly, Mobius was aware that someone— likely B-15– had retrieved Sylvie for even despite all of her previous gripes and complaints about being dragged away from her life again, she was there.
Finally, it was time.
In his head, he always imagined that in their reunion, they’d run to each other as they had in the War Room when Loki first began time slipping, embracing in a tight hold that said they weren’t going to let go.
Not ever again.
He’d imagine Loki’s arms clutching at his back, feeling his shirt dampen with tears of relief, his own leaving dark stains on the green robes he had only seen from a distance before leading a smiling Loki home to the smiling faces of their friends.
It was a silly, dramatic fantasy.
One that definitely spoke further to the impact Loki had left on a washed up old analyst.
As the time door closed behind him, the golden light faded away, leaving him in darkness. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust before he could make out the snaking green tendrils of Yggdrasil’s branches in front of him, faintly glowing as a familiar magic pulsed steady through them.
His heart hammered against his chest as he appraised the vines, almost making a wall in front of him. If he peered close enough, he could occasionally see one branch off, a new vine growing independently from the first.
For a moment, he was overwhelmed with awe. Each of those vines held millions of lives. Lives that would be free to grow and thrive, safe from the repercussions of He Who Remains and the pruning sticks of the TVA.
All because of Loki.
He took a tentative step forward over the dark, rocky surface below, slowly approaching the timelines. After all the time that had passed, all of the new branches that had formed had interwoven together, creating thick thickets. For a moment, Mobius wasn’t sure how he’d traverse further, not wanting to risk causing harm to the timelines.
But as he approached, the vines slowly began to shift, parting a way for him to pass as if he had been expected.
There was little hesitation as he followed the pathway to the heart of the tree, carefully stepping over uneven rock where a small clearing finally opened up.
A sharp inhale of breath accompanied a whisper.
“Loki.”
In the center of the clearing sat the familiar figure upon a throne. The realization sent a stab of pain through Mobius.
In a sick twist of irony, Loki finally got his throne after all these years.
Not the one he wanted. If fate still had its grips on Loki, it was cruel to give him what he had wanted (or what he thought he had wanted) for so long at the cost of what he had truly wanted all along.
There was no teary eyed embrace, nor even a turn of the head in acknowledgement.
Eyebrows crinkled as confusion mounted.
The God before him hadn’t stirred. Not when he had emerged from the branches and not when he had said his name.
Fear gripped his heart, seizing his breath. Despite it, he tried again, calling out louder this time as he slowly approached.
“Loki?”
There was still no movement. His footsteps sped up as his heart began racing. Dropping to a knee in front of Loki, a shuddering breath cinched in his throat.
The same timelines Mobius had seen Loki gather into his hands still remained tightly clenched in his grip, yet more vines had grown, criss-crossing and weaving thick over Loki’s form, across his chest, looping around his arms and legs.
The tree looked to have taken a mind of its own, growing over the prone form of its creator, subsequently trapping him in its clutches.
Not a bare inch of him was spared. The vines looped around his horns, curling around his face, draping over his sharp cheekbones and caressing his neck like ivy overtaking an old, abandoned house.
Just his eyes, now closed, remained uncovered.
Mobius observed this all, feeling his heart break as he raked his eyes over his friend’s body. For another horrific moment, he once again feared that he was too late until he finally noticed it.
The timelines tangled across his chest rose gently before falling. This motion repeated, in a steady tantrum that confirmed Mobius’ worst fear was not true.
Breathing. Loki was breathing.
The sting of tears pricked his eyes as Mobius released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand, hesitating for just a moment, reached out to rest against the vines curled around Loki’s face, the closest he could get to actually doing so until he found a way to untangle his friend.
“Loki?” He murmured. His other hand found Loki’s shoulder as only silence met his question, shaking him carefully, “Loki? Hey there, buddy. Can you hear me?”
A faint flutter of eyelashes was the only response he got. Not a lot, but it was enough, prompting him to raise his voice louder, tinging with desperation even to his own ears.
“Come on, Loki, it’s me! Wake up!” He shook his shoulder again. Skin crinkled along the side of Loki’s eyes as he clenched his eyes shut more.
“That’s it! Come back to me, Loki. I’m here to take you home. I know you can do it.” He urged further, his blood pulsing loud in his ears.
Agonizingly slow, his eyelashes flickered until they parted.
A sharp air was sucked through his teeth as Mobius finally met Loki’s eyes, green but vacant, almost— maybe— unseeing.
Despite that, a wave of relief and affection flooded through him as he couldn’t hold back a breathy laugh as a smile tugged across his lips, bittersweet, relieved, yet full of adoration.
“There you are,” he whispered, wishing desperately that he could actually touch Loki. He turned his attention to the branches for a moment, appraising them, “We gotta get you free somehow. Stay with me, ok? I’ll have you free and out of here soon.”
He wasn’t even sure if Loki could hear him, or if his words registered, but he spoke them nonetheless. Tentatively, he reached out, fingers brushing against the branches covering Loki’s face. To his surprise, they seemed to bend on their own, curling away to reveal pale skin.
Loki’s eyes flickered slightly, following what movement he could glimpse at sluggishly, but the hollow, vacant look in his eyes remained.
“Ok, easier than I thought. How’re you doing there, buddy? Are you still with me?” Mobius asked, his palm slipping into place to cup the sides of Loki’s cheek, now unmarried by the timelines. In the corner of his eyes, he could see the rest of the branches slowly retreating away from him like a tide slowly rolling back out to sea after a storm.
Loki’s eyes flickered back up, meeting with Mobius’ eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips parting.
“Mobius—“ his voice croaked, harsh and quiet from disuse.
Mobius swallowed thickly against the growing lump in his throat, “Hey. I’m here.”
Loki’s eyes shut and seemed to take a considerable amount of effort to open.
“Wha—?”
Each word, every moment, seemed to take everything out of him. Distantly, Mobius hoped that the tree hadn’t sapped him of all his energy.
His thumb brushed against Loki’s cheekbone, “We can talk later,” he replied despite how desperately he craved to hear Loki’s voice again, “How about we get you out of here, hm? You’ve got some people waiting for you back at the TVA.”
If Loki was hearing him, he couldn’t tell. It seemed at long last, that the last of the branches had released their grip on Loki. Though as Mobius quickly scanned him to be sure of that, he came to realize that Loki had yet to release his grip on the vines, his knobby knuckles (much sharper than the last time Mobius had seen him, he realized in the back of his mind) white in their tight grip.
Mobius’ hand slipped away from Loki’s cheek, his head tipping forward ever so slightly without anything to lean on. For a moment, he almost slid his hand right back into place, but he didn’t in favor of curling his hand over Loki’s
The hand beneath his somehow tightened, the arm going rigid.
“Hey, it’s ok,” Mobius said, “You can let go now, Loki."
Loki’s eyes screwed shut, his jaw muscles twitching as he clenched his teeth together, “Can’t—“ he gritted out, as if each word was sucking out what was left of his energy, “The timelines…”
Mobius’ thumb ghosted over Loki’s knuckles, “The timelines will be fine,” he replied gently, “OB says the tree is self-sustaining now. You did your part, you can let go now. It’s alright.”
Silence trailed between them as Loki’s jaw worked together uncertainty. Fearfully.
The hand beneath his began to tremble.
“Come on, Loki,” Mobius whispered, “Let me take you home.”
Loki’s eyes parted again, and for a brief moment, something beyond that vacant stare found Mobius’ eyes, wide and with an array of emotions rapidly flittering across his green eyes before that haze seemed to gloss over them again.
It was enough though. Loki was still in there. Mobius could be patient. He’d wait as long as he had to, do whatever it is Loki needed if it meant that he’d come back beyond the hollowed, broken shell Yggdrasil seemed to leave behind.
The nod of Loki’s head resembled more of a jerk and slowly, Mobius could feel tight tendons shifting beneath his hand, slowly relinquishing their hold on the timelines.
Once enough tension had been lifted from Loki’s fingers, the timelines took care of the rest, sliding out of his grasp and back to the pulsing mass around them.
A small wounded noise escaped Loki’s lips in their absence, prompting Mobius to slide his hand into the empty space they left behind. His fingers threaded with Loki’s, squeezing gently before slowly guiding his hand down.
Reaching, he did the same with the other hand. Just in time, it seems, as without the branches to hold him steady, Loki sagged forward, the front of his crown bumping into Mobius’ shoulder.
Mobius quickly adjusted, letting go of one hand in favor of wrapping behind Loki, fingers grasping at the fabric of the long cape, holding the god tightly against him.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, turning his face into the top of Loki’s head and nuzzling into his hair, minding the horns, “I’ve got you.”
Loki’s hand fell limply against Mobius, drawing his attention to just how limply Loki hung against him.
The lump in his throat swelled once again at the realization that the man who now hung against him trusted him with the fate of the multiverse when he told him it was ok to let go and now trusted him to keep him upright.
He was the same man he had watched for so long on the time tapes, who’d built impenetrable walls in favor of showing weakness or vulnerability.
The same man who had felt overshadowed, never feeling a place of belonging. He’d discovered he’d been lied to and had his whole life upheaved, lost to the vacuums of space, tortured in the clutches of the mad titan and turned loose to attack Earth before being flung into the TVA where he was imprisoned.
Trust didn’t come easy to Loki, yet he bestowed it on Mobius, trusting him to see him at his most vulnerable. Despite all those initial harsh words Mobius wished he could take back (“What? Like you did your mother?”, “You were born to cause pain and suffering and death.”), locking him in a time loop where the words of his worst fears were thrown at him time after time (“You deserve to be alone. And you always will be”), he still found it in him to be able to trust not just Mobius, but their friends (and his previous imprisoners) at the TVA.
He found a way to rise above what the timeline had deemed him worthy or capable of, and allowed himself to have friends who cared about him and for whom he cared for.
Yet he had given it all up. For them. For all of them. The role of a villain was cast aside and what did it get him?
A sick twist of fate to get the throne he had fought so hard on the timeline for. Alone and cut off from all the friends he had made. Sapped of all his energy and strength until he was but a broken shadow of the man Mobius had seen him become.
But if there was a universal truth about Lokis that Mobius knew, it was that they were as stubborn as they were resilient.
Loki would need time. He had given that to everyone else, now it was about time for Mobius to give that to him.
“Come on, Loki,” he whispered into his hair before carefully shifting so he could tug Loki’s intertwined hand across his shoulders, his other hand curling around his waist and holding him close against his side to support him, “I need you with me a little bit. Just help me get you home.”
Loki’s half lidded eyes flickered up, “Home..?”
A question. As if Loki could not dare himself to believe that such a simple concept could apply to him.
Minutely, Mobius’ grip on his waist tightened, “Yes,” he replied with some difficulty past the lump in his throat, “Home. Everyone’s waiting for you there.”
Loki’s head jerked in a nod.
It took a moment for Mobius to pause, fishing the TemPad out of his pocket to open a time door at the base of Loki’s lonely throne. Once the TemPad was returned to his pocket, he turned his attention back to Loki.
Carefully, Mobius helped him rise to unsteady feet. With great difficulty, Loki drew himself up ever so slightly, helping Mobius bear his weight on legs shaking from non-use.
Tentatively, Mobius took a step forward. Loki lifted a foot slowly, inching along with him. His muscles, atrophied from gods knows how long of remaining seated on the stone throne shook before giving out with a sharp hiss from the god in his grasp.
Loki’s body threatened to pitch forward, but Mobius kept his grip on him, shifting to take the extra weight across his frame.
“I got you,” Mobius reassured, feeling the way Loki’s muscles tensed and twitched against him. Like a newborn fawn learning to stand, Loki’s long legs churned, slowly gaining purchase beneath him. Mobius remained frozen, allowing Loki time to get his bearings, trying not to think too hard about the way Loki’s breathing steadily labored with strain.
Mobius eyed the time door not too far away.
Just a few steps.
Yet those few steps seemed miles away as Loki’s wheezing breath echoed in his ears.
A few, mountainous steps, and then Loki would finally be home.
With small, patient (agonizingly slow) steps, they inched their way towards the door. With each step, Loki seemed to grow both more steady and sure-footed, yet also tired. Each step seemed to sap what little was left of his energy. The breaths echoing against Mobius’ ears grew louder and more labored, and the arm beneath his grasp trembled, yet they trudged onward with a renewed determination
“That’s it,” Mobius whispered all the while, “We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.”
At long last, they passed the threshold and stepped through the shimmering gold. Despite their slow pace, the light change was abrupt— the bright lights of the TVA control room sharply contrasted from the darkness of the space they had occupied.
A hiss sounded from Loki as his head twisted to hide in Mobius’ hair, away from the light.
Multiple things happened simultaneously. The door behind them closed with a wsssh, closing Yggdrasil away from them. With its closing, their friends quickly approached with a chorus of exclamations and greetings.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light, Mobius’ hand clenched around Loki’s arm protectively. Even for him, the change was abrupt— a lot.
“Oh my God— Loki! It really worked!”
“Welcome back, Loki!”
“He’s back!”
“Don’t you ever think about making another dumb, selfless move like that again, you bastard!”
Mobius’ head spun, trying to adjust to it all. A low groan in his ear was all the warning he got as Loki’s legs gave out, leaving Mobius to scramble to take all of his weight.
“Hey buddy, it’s alright.” He murmured quietly, a low grunt sounding from his own mouth as he adjusted his grip. Despite the all too prevalent bones jutting out where they definitely hadn’t been before (he was not going to think about that now— ), Loki was heavy.
“What’s wrong with him?” Mobius could now pinpoint one voice as OB. The others inched closer, concern clear in their eyes.
“Nothings wrong with him,” Mobius was quick to reply as a wave of protectiveness washed over him. His eyes rapidly darted over Loki’s face, taking in his knitted eyebrows over eyes skewed shut and still-too-heavy breaths.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sylvie move a few steps closer to the other side of Loki. She carefully drew his other arm over her shoulder, taking some of his weight.
Mobius briefly smiled his thanks before he glanced back towards OB, “How’s the tree looking?”
OB’s concerned face morphed into a brief look of confusion before he blinked, pushing him back to the machines, “It’s all still looking good. Nothing’s changed at all. It really is sustaining itself now. I guess it just needed a little jump.”
“Or a spark,” Mobius murmured, more to himself. He glanced back to Loki, “See, it’s all ok. Everything’s as it should be. Now let’s get you some place quiet so you can rest.”
The others seemed to get the hint, Mobius noticed thankfully, as they drew back and gave them some space. He knew how excited they were to see him, and while it was endearing (he hoped Loki was cognizant enough to realize how much of an impact he left in his absence), he was glad that they were observant enough to see Loki needed some space and rest right now before they could launch their questions at him.
“B-15” Mobius said, drawing her gaze away from Loki. His eyes briefly flickered down towards his pocket where his TemPad was safely tucked away, “Could you?”
She nodded, approaching and carefully pulling the TemPad from his pocket, “Your quarters?”
Mobius nodded, watching as she clicked a few buttons on the screen before another golden time door opened in front of them. She returned the TemPad back to his pocket.
“Thanks,” he replied before carefully shuffling forward in step with Sylvie, carting Loki through the time door.
Thankfully, the lights in his apartment were dimmer. The stinging behind his eyes immediately lessened, making him wonder how much Loki’s head had to be pounding.
Seeing as the couch was close, the trio wordlessly made their way over before gently shifting to sit Loki down into the cushions.
Mobius went to pull away, but Loki’s hand reached out, gripping the front of his jacket, effectively halting his movements. Immediately, he froze, ignoring the way his heart stammered in his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mobius reassured him, sitting down on the couch beside Loki.
Sylvie remained standing, hands on her hips. As she shifted her weight, Mobius glanced up to her.
“You make sure he gets some rest, I’ll make sure to keep them away until he’s ready to rejoin us, alright?”
Mobius merely blinked, surprised by the gesture. He nodded.
“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, his hand absently finding its way to rest on Loki’s arm, to keep some sort of contact with the catatonic god beside him (as if his leg wasn’t brushing against Loki’s, or that the god hadn’t slightly leaned against him)
The corners of Sylvie’s mouth flickered for a moment, dare say almost a smile. With one last nod, she turned and disappeared into the time door that closed behind her.
Leaving just Loki and Mobius.
Mobius, who suddenly realized he had no idea what to do about the catatonic god against his side.
For a few quiet moments, Mobius’ hand absentmindedly stroked Loki’s arms, taking a moment to soak in that he was here.
After all their work, after so many months of nearly drowning under the impossibility of it all, too afraid to realize that it may just be impossible for it would only lead Mobius back to a grief that threatened to drown him, he was here.
And yet despite it all, Mobius was still grieving.
It was silly, Loki was right here; he could feel the fabric of the gods cloth vambraces against his finger tips, the press of Loki’s shoulders against his, yet the distance between them still felt too far.
And Mobius was for once at a loss on how to bridge it.
He’d watched Loki’s life on the timelines countless times. Knowing Loki and how he ticked had been his job, and damn if he hadn’t been good at it. But never in all the tapes had he seen Loki in a state like this. It was unprecedented, uncharted waters.
Lokis were stubborn to a fault, resilient beyond measure. Even under Thanos’ control, he hadn’t been like this. Mobius wasn’t sure how to best get him out of it, but he knew that he could.
They’d come this far. He wasn’t about to give up on Loki now. He’d find a way, somehow.
They had all the time in the world now.