Chapter Text
TRIGGER WARNING: brief description of injection/needles
~~•~~
Loki dragged himself across the ground until his back met something solid. Everything in this place was coarse and cold and damp. He twisted around until he was leaning against the wall on his side; the jagged rockface bit into his temple and dug through the sleeve of his T.V.A. issued jacket. He had no idea where he was or if it was even remotely safe, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Both mind and body were useless to him now, and instincts of self-preservation, no matter how keen, can only carry one so far. But he wasn’t worried. Mobius was smart; he’d probably anticipated this. He wouldn’t have pre-programmed any dangerous locations. Loki trusted him. He trusted him…
There was no reason to get dramatic.
He squeezed the briefcase against his ribcage until it hurt. Something in him felt broken, and he was desperate to drown it out. It was unlike any pain he’d ever experienced. He slipped his hand beneath the collar of his shirt, expecting to feel the warm, sticky sensation of fresh blood, but when he drew out his hand to look at it, his fingertips were spotless. His breath heaved as he turned his hand over and examined the lily-white color of his skin in the dimness of the light. He wasn’t injured. This was something else. This was worse.
His mind tried to place the word for his affliction. The best it could come up with was “grief” or perhaps “mourning.” But that didn’t seem right… He and Mobius were…friends? Colleagues? Acquaintances? They’d both been alive for over a millennium, Mobius even longer than him. Their relationship—whatever it was—was a tiny blip on both their lifelines, an insignificant event when viewed on such a large scale. How was it possible to mourn for something like that? For someone you barely knew?
Maybe it’s the shock , he reasoned. Mobius' death had been… sudden. Violent. And no doubt painful. The screams from Ravonna’s two hunters, as their bodies burned themselves out like sparks from a fire, echoed around inside of his skull. Their deaths didn’t haunt him, though. In fact, few did. He’d grown up in a society of warriors, of people who believed the only honor to be found was that on the battlefield. Witnessing violent, bloody deaths was not uncommon, especially when one had the God of Thunder for a brother.
So the question still remained: why would Mobius’ death affect him like this?
He was back to the first possibility now. Could he be grieving? Mobius was gone. Dead. Erased completely. Even if he had the ability to go back to the staircase planet, there wouldn’t even be a body to retrieve. He’d sacrificed himself so that Loki could escape… Yes, Ravonna had forced his hand, but at the same time, she hadn’t. She’d given him an easy way out, but he had chosen to die rather than hand Loki over to the T.V.A. Mobius, who was brilliant and in high-standing with the organization, who was well-liked by everyone and had established life-long friendships, who was incredible at his job and had given Loki chance after chance after chance to fix his mistakes when everyone else, even his family, had dismissed him as a lost cause—
And then he understood. It didn’t matter how long he’d known the man. Time was a construct; the T.V.A. had proven as much. Mobius had cared about him, and unlike so many before, he’d actually had the tenacity to back it up. It was a kind of love, a kind of selflessness he had no experience with. And it was equal parts confusing and terrifying and bittersweet and— He couldn’t handle it.
The briefcase stayed tucked between his chest and his knees as he lowered his head on top of them. There wasn’t enough air in this place to keep up with his worryingly accelerating intake. He rolled onto his shins and bent over the ground as silent sobs wracked his frame. A fuzzy black mist had begun to creep onto the edge of his vision like frost on a windowpane. Was he really going to pass out? Was he really going to lay lifeless as the T.V.A. tracked him down and hauled him back to headquarters to be terminated? After Mobius had given up his life for him? How pathetic. How disgustingly, utterly pathetic.
His own self-loathing was what brought him back from the brink. He was determined to stay in control through sheer willpower alone. It wasn’t enough to hold back the tears or the guttural roar that tore from his throat, but at least he wasn’t at risk of hyperventilation anymore. He picked a spot on the floor, a small divot in the stone, and focused on that, reminding himself to breathe slowly. His fingers curled around the sides of the briefcase as he forced himself, gradually, to sit up straight.
Two minutes— he’d give himself two minutes. Then he had to start moving. Ravonna was probably already on his tail, and as much as he wanted vengeance against Mobius’ killer, he was in no fit state to fight off a small legion of hunters just to get to her. He would bide his time and wait for the perfect opportunity. And then he would strangle the life out of her perfect little neck with her own perfect little tie and watch the light leave her perfect eyes.
Loki, the Avenger.
A wry, humorless laugh bubbled its way up from his throat. How perfectly ironic.
“Is something funny?”
Loki’s laughter caught in his windpipe. He tossed his hair out of his face and exhaled harshly through parted lips. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at the owner of the voice.
Mobius’ silhouette stood out in front of the orange doorway. Another briefcase hung by his side, and his head was tilted like a curious hound. “Hey, I’m glad I f—whoa—! Okay—” Mobius took a step back and dropped the case as he threw his hands up beside his head.
Loki leveled both his daggers at the newcomer’s throat. “Don’t think I won’t kill you just because you look like him.”
“Yeah, okay, in hindsight, I probably should have approached this differently,” Mobius said, more to himself than to Loki. “Look, I’m not them. I’m me . I’ll prove it to you.” He paused and worked his jaw to the side, just as the real Mobius would do. “Uhm… I threw chips at you in the cafeteria and told you to lighten up. You said you weren’t going to fetch them. And I told you to use your magic.”
Loki didn’t advance on him, but he didn’t drop his fighter’s stance either. “Anyone could have overheard that.”
Mobius nodded concedingly. “Right. Fair enough. Oh—!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Loki’s chest. “You’re a foolhardy rapscallion and a sentimental prick. Right? But you’ve grown on me… Just a little.”
The agent watched his charge as the latter visibly fought an internal battle with himself. The evidence was sound, but the god still needed more convincing. Mobius couldn’t blame him. The day’s events really weren’t helping the trickster’s already prodigious trust issues.
Mobius spread his hands placatingly. “Loki… We’re out of the hell-hole, now. Can you at least tell me if it worked?”
The trickster’s eyes flickered back and forth between his, still doubtful, but straining desperately to find sincerity. Several apprehensive seconds ticked by before a sudden, strangled breath broke through the god’s lips. The daggers fell limply to his sides. Mobius let out a breath of his own and mirrored Loki’s movements as he lowered his arms as well.
“There we go. Nice and easy.” He angled his head back toward the doorway. “I’m gonna close that, okay?” He turned around without waiting for Loki’s permission. “We don’t want a repeat of last time.”
Loki stared at his back, dumbstruck. “You’re dead. I watched it happen. I—” He swallowed. “There was nothing left.”
Mobius smiled as he tucked the portal device into his pocket. “Don’t you think after all my time studying the God of Mischief, I might have picked up a thing or two?”
Loki felt his face burn as Mobius turned to face him. Was he mocking him?
“I did tell you I’d only be a minute,” the agent continued. “I mean, I know you don’t usually listen to me, but I tried to make it pretty clear.”
He was.
Loki’s nails dug into the flesh of his palms as his hands constricted around the hilts of his daggers. He shook his head stiffly and ground his teeth together until the tendons in his jaw threatened to snap.
Mobius sobered himself up quickly when he noticed the god was suddenly close to breaking. “Okay, I’m sorry, that was mean…” he admitted. “I just thought you’d be impressed.” He tried for another smile, one that was less teasing and more apologetic.
Loki shut his eyes against the onset of tears, still seething at Mobius’ audacity. Yes, ha-ha, you fooled the trickster twice in one day — congratulations!
“Okay…” Mobius said for about the fifth time since he’d entered the cave. “Let me just… take that.” He inched out toward Loki’s hand and slid the first dagger from his grasp. “And this one…” He bent down and carefully set both weapons on the ground. “I just don’t wanna end up like your brother. I know I probably deserve to get stabbed—”
“You’re right.” Loki took in an uneven breath as he glared at the agent.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, then that’s fine,” Mobius said. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Loki demanded.
Mobius sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe because you look kinda upset?”
“Oh, do I look upset?”
“Well, yeah—”
“How very astute of you, Agent Mobius. I wonder, what with your profound gifts of perception, how you couldn’t have found a spare moment to tell me that you were planning to fake your own DEATH,” Loki spat.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to—”
“I wish you had.”
Mobius paused and angled his chin out. “Had what?”
“I wish you had stayed dead.”
A terrible silence fell between them, one that seemed to stretch on for ages. Mobius was the first to break it.
“You don’t mean that,” he said softly.
“Yes I do.” Loki felt his throat tighten under the strain to keep his emotions at bay.
Mobius smiled, a sad, condoling smile. “Nah…” He shook his head. “You can try to hurt me all you want. It’s not gonna work. I know you too well.”
And just like that, the game was up. Loki’s resolve shattered along with him. The tears that spilled down his face now were not of grief or anger, but relief— Relief that Mobius was alive, relief that he could still see right through all the lies and manipulation and bullshit Loki pulled, and that he always cared enough to call him out on it.
The god averted his gaze as he worked to reign himself in. “I’m still pissed at you,” he said weakly.
“Yeah…” Mobius said. “That I believe. And I mean, frankly, I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
Loki squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together into a thin line. Quiet footsteps shuffled toward him as he lowered his head into one of his hands.
“Hey, it’s alright... C’mere.” It was little more than a whisper, but Mobius didn’t wait for a response. He pulled the younger man in by his arm, and Loki allowed himself to be embraced as he hid his face in the shoulder of Mobius’ T.V.A. uniform.
This day had been one giant labyrinth of a Hel, thanks in no small part to Mobius and his schemes. His animosity toward the bureaucrat was far from forgotten, but dammit, if he wasn’t still glad to have him back after all that. Damn him... He might have been a sentimental prick, but at least he wasn’t a sappy, touch-starved old man with a savior complex. Emphasis on the “touch-starved” part—not even Thor could compete with him in that regard.
Mobius clasped one hand over the back of his neck. “It’s alright,” he repeated. “Right?”
Loki didn’t respond except to physically relax. It was quite by accident, but Mobius took it as an affirmative.
“I still don’t understand something,” Loki said. “How the Hel did you do it?”
Mobius lips twitched. He kept one of his hands on Loki’s shoulder as he pulled back (more proof for his touch-starvation theory). “I told you. I took a page out of your book.”
“Yes, I understand that,” Loki said, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. “But I watched you be incinerated. ”
“Well, maybe I picked up a little magic from you too.”
“Mobius, come on.”
“What? You don’t think I could learn some magic?”
“That’s entirely beside the point—”
“ You don’t think I’m smart enough.”
“Just tell me how you did it!”
Mobius stuffed both hands in his pockets and tossed his head back with a sigh. “You know I admire your persistence, but there’s a certain point where it crosses the ‘annoying’ threshold and turns into stubbornness.”
Loki scoffed. “I don’t see why you can’t just tell me. Afraid I’ll try it someday?”
“Trust me, it’d be a lot harder for you to pull this off,” Mobius said with a chuckle.
“How so?”
The bureaucrat folded his arms together very...bureaucratically.
“You owe me,” Loki reminded him.
“I do…” Mobius relented, though he didn’t seem happy about it; after another long minute of consideration, at long last, he caved. “Fine, but just remember… you asked for this.”
~~•~~
Mobius abandoned the bag of chips on the floor and scanned the text with his eyes as he straightened. Shit. He was hoping this wouldn’t happen for at least another week or so. The time keepers must have really been on top of this one. Now why didn’t they put the same effort into giving everyone the appropriate office space?
He swiped out of Ravonna’s message and opened a new chat box: Recipient: G-16. Message: Can you salvage the evidence from our nexus?
“Mobius! What are you doing? I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” Loki called behind him.
The agent shot a glance at G-16 from across the room. The guard looked down at his communicator and turned to leave. A second or two went by. Mobius’ watch buzzed twice: On it.
“Mobius?”
The god studied him anxiously. Mobius drew in a deep breath. Here we go. “I got a message from Ravonna. We’re both wanted in the courtroom in ten minutes.”
Loki’s face fell, and somehow, the god managed to turn even paler. The unguarded fear in his eyes tugged painfully against Mobius’ heartstrings. He wanted to tell him everything, the whole plan, but he couldn’t. There was too much at stake.
“C’mon… we don’t have a lot of time.”
He pulled Loki up out of his chair and kept a steady hand on his shoulder as they walked to the elevators together. Loki was quiet, eerily so. His mind was probably preoccupied with all of the horrible things that might happen to him once they reached the courtroom. Mobius felt terrible. He’d never been comfortable with deception, despite his charge’s talent for it. The guilt compelled him to try and reassure the god. Loki almost bit his head off for it, and rightly so— it was a weak-minded attempt, and they both knew it.
When they finally reached the courtroom floor, Loki practically sprinted out of his reach. It was just as well… Mobius couldn’t go any further with him right now anyway.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
It was better to get it over with quickly, to rip off the band-aid, as it were.
“I’ll only be a minute. Time me.”
The elevator doors cut off whatever Loki had wanted to say. His time started now.
He made his way down to his own office, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed as if it were a normal day and he wasn't about to help a variant break out of the most powerful organizational headquarters in existence. He glanced down the hallway both ways before slipping into his cubicle and crawling underneath the desk. He pried open one of the panels on the wall and set it aside. Two identical briefcases were stacked inside the secret compartment, just as he’d left them. He grabbed them both and replaced the panel before scurrying back to the elevator.
He watched the window outside as he plunged downward, taking in the auspicious view of his home, the only place he’d ever known… The place he was about to give up, probably forever. A sharp pang of remorse rose up in his chest, but it was soon crowded out by an even darker premonition— one of Loki, scared and alone as he was sentenced to a fate worse than death. The vision renewed his conviction; he’d made the right choice.
The elevator let him off in a stuffy little grey room with an even smaller service elevator in the back. He pulled the gate open manually and locked it securely behind him. There was a keypad on the wall in place of the typical elevator buttons; he input a 7 digit code onto it and a tiny ding sounded in confirmation. The elevator began its descent, but it couldn’t have traveled a hundred yards before the whole cabin decided to change course; Mobius transferred both briefcases to one hand and held onto the bar behind him as the vehicle shot forward and came to a sudden stop in front of another, identically stuffy grey room. Instead of a dumpy service elevator, there was a shiny pill-like machine shoved into one corner. It was about the size of a man, with long, tinted windows stretching down each side.
Mobius entered another code on the machine’s touchscreen. It spat a tiny flesh-colored node out into a retractable dish, along with a thin, hypodermic needle and syringe. He set down the briefcases and inhaled deeply as he stuck the node behind his ear. He exhaled just as slowly as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. For some reason, the time keepers had seen fit to program in him a fear of needles. It seemed counterproductive to their agenda here, but they “worked in mysterious ways,” as Ravonna liked to say. He leaned back against the wall and tried to keep his hand steady as he inserted the needle into his arm and drew out a small sample of blood. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
“Get it together, Mobius.”
He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve as he removed the vile from the syringe and popped it into the reciprocal in the center of the machine. The bright red liquid drained out of the container as the machine whirred to life. Mobius watched through one of the side panels as it got to work assembling its creation. He absently tapped on the node behind his ear to make sure it was still there as his replacement grew out of the nothingness. He wondered if this one would be less afraid of needles. Probably not. And anyway, he still hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
One of the briefcases was left behind as Mobius rode the service lift back up to the main floor. He took a quick glance at his watch as he hurried to call the second elevator. They were running out of time.
Mobius cursed the elevator’s slowness as it pulled him back up to the courtrooms. He lifted his eyes up to the ceiling and prayed to whatever non-Loki-like deities were out there—
Please, don’t let me be too late.
~~•~~
Loki blinked up at him. He’d sat down at some point between the cubicle and the service elevator.
“Well...you know the rest of the story from there,” Mobius said. “Any questions?”
The god seemed uncharacteristically stunned. Mobius had a sinking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind of stunned.
“Hey—you asked. Remember that.”
“No, I know,” Loki said, pausing for a moment to process. “I know, I just— So you are—you are, in fact—”
“Yeah, I’m a clone. You can say it. It’s not a bad word,” Mobius clipped.
“...Right,” the trickster responded. He wove his fingers together and studied Mobius calculatingly as he leaned forward onto his knees. “But you remember everything? Right up until…”
“Yep.”
Loki nodded carefully. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now. Like I’m some— puzzle you’ve gotta solve!”
Both of Loki’s brows shot up. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Mobius said defensively. Then he sighed. “Look, I know it's a little… weird. But I’m still the same guy. You know? Haven’t I proved that already?”
Loki flexed fingers outward before interlocking them again. He angled his head to the side and considered the older man with an unreadable expression as he stood to face him. “I think you have, yes,” he agreed, offering Mobius an impish smirk as he reached out and pointedly straightened the agent’s tie. “I’m quite impressed, actually. I mean, not that you could hold a candle to one of my plans. It worked, I’ll give you that, but it seems you had to rely rather heavily on the T.V.A.’s equipment. Sort of takes the cleverness out of it.”
Mobius closed his eyes and dipped his head as a mawkish smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah… You got me there. Our work can sometimes get pretty dangerous, as you know. I guess the timekeepers wanted a way to replenish their workforce without sacrificing the resources to train new people.”
Loki furrowed his brow. “As opposed to…sacrificing the resources to endlessly clone all of their employees?”
“...Well, when you put it like that.”
They exchanged a blank stare for a few seconds. Then, a dubious smile broke out on Loki’s face. Mobius chuckled just as equivocally in response. Pretty soon, they were both bent over themselves laughing. At the time keepers? At each other? Who could tell! All they knew was that they were alive and they were together—the fallen god and the time traveling agent—an absurd pair indeed.
“God, Loki—” Mobius heaved.
“Yes, I am.”
The stupid joke sent them both back into another round of hysterics.
Mobius grabbed Loki’s shoulder as he forced himself back to place of relative sobriety. “Don’t—don’t say anything else.”
“Okay.”
“Okay…”
Mobius took in a calming breath to stave off any lingering amusement and patted Loki’s arm twice as he turned around. “We need to get—” his head swiveled back and forth as he scanned the ground “—where’s my—?” He spun around to find Loki with one briefcase hanging at his side and the other dangling carelessly off the tips of his fingers.
“Might be needing these,” the god said with a wink.
Mobius snorted and shook his head as he placed both hands on his hips. “I reckon so, yeah.” He gestured at the emptiness between them. “After you.”
~~•~~
Ravonna paced up and down the causeway with her arms folded securely behind her back. Her hunters were fanned out around the cavern, scanning the area for clues as to their escapee’s whereabouts. Chasing down a missing variant wasn’t usually her department, but she felt responsible for this one. Her fingers hovered over the bandages above her eye; the injury really wasn’t helping her headache.
“Judge Renslayer.”
Ravonna fixed her expression and turned her head to acknowledge the speaker.
“Our scanners aren’t picking up anything unusual. But we found this.” The hunter held out a cylindrical glass vial in his hand. Ravonna’s lips parted as she plucked it from his palm and held it up in the faint orange glow emanating from the doorway behind them. A trifling remnant of blood, not even enough to be called a proper drop, glissaded across the bottom of the container as she twisted it around between her fingers. A small puff of amusement escaped her lips as she lowered the vile again.
“Round everyone up,” she said. “We’ll be able to track them better from headquarters.”
The hunter moved to obey the order, but hesitated. “Sorry, ma’am… ‘them’?”
“Yes,” Ravonna answered, slipping the empty vile into her pocket. “We’ll get them eventually. I have full confidence.” She turned toward the orange doorway. “They’re still running on borrowed time.”