Chapter Text
Mobius M. Mobius had a life of his own once upon a time. He lived on Earth with his teenage daughter and his wife. Mobius had been an archivist at a massive public library. He was content with his lot in life. Jet skiing was one of his favorite hobbies and they lived close enough to the beach to allow him and his family to go and indulge in beach activities regularly year round.
They were happy until his wife was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors hadn’t caught it in time. Still, the man had done his best for his daughter, doing all that he could to support her and comfort her during their shared time of grief. To get away from the memories and to outrun the grief that threatened to overtake them, they moved to New York in 2004.
But what was Mobius’s crime against the TVA’s precious Sacred Timeline?
He didn’t die.
Mobius was on his way home from the library when he saw a black cat on the side of the road. It looked like something was wrong with it. He pulled over, parked his car, and got out to investigate. The cat was unconscious, breathing laboriously, and looked like it had been mauled by something. The archivist took off his suit jacket, wrapped the trembling creature in it, and drove to the nearest veterinary clinic.
Despite the animal’s serious wounds, the vet released it into Mobius’s care after stabilizing it. He purchased a carrier from the vet and all of the supplies that it needed to heal and to take care of a cat in general. He loaded the exhausted little thing in his sedan and headed home. Maybe a cat was just what their little family needed.
He had left work early by a couple of hours to start preparing for his daughter’s 18th birthday party later that evening, but the cat had required emergency attention and he couldn’t just leave the poor thing to die. He hoped that she wouldn’t be upset with him for being late. The party would have to start a little later, but not by much, he thought. It might have been delayed an hour or so if he worked hard to get the last pieces into place quickly once he got home. Plus, he had the cat. His daughter loved cats and had mentioned wanting to get one to take to college with her. Funny how the universe provided, huh?
Mobius pulled into the driveway, noticing that her car was parked in the garage, but the lights were not on in the house. A chill ran down his spine as he unloaded the cat and approached the front door with his keys. The front door was open.
“Marie?” He rushed into the foyer, putting the cat carrier down next to the hall table as panic threatened to overtake him. “Marie! Where- Marie! ”
His baby girl was laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. His world ground to an immediate halt around him as his mind caught up with his eyes. He ran to her side and checked her to see if she was breathing. She was not. He checked for her pulse but her heart was not beating. There was a hole in her chest and her knit sweater was drenched in cold, half dried blood. He did CPR anyway, even though a voice in the back of his mind said she was already dead. He didn’t care. His baby girl needed him and he would not let her die like this! He dialed 911, begging someone to come and save his daughter.
The coroner said she had died about an hour before Mobius had arrived at home with the cat. The police said it was an unfortunate case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time during a burglary gone wrong. Mobius was given two weeks off work to grieve. He spoke little to anyone and never answered the door after the funeral when friends and family would swing by to check on him. The police had been called once to do a welfare check, but he assured the officers that he was fine and away they went.
Eventually, the phone stopped ringing when the answering machine filled up and he still refused to answer or delete the recorded messages. He barely ate, slept most of the time, and never left the house for a solid week. The only thing Mobius did because he wanted to and not out of necessity was nurse the cat back to health. He cared for it, fed it, brushed its fur, and made sure it was comfortable and felt safe. His efforts were not in vain. The animal was recovering well, but if he was in a better state of mind, he might have noticed that it was healing more quickly than it should have been. He also might have noticed that objects had been being moved around the apartment and that someone had been rifling through his first aid kit and medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
On the eighth day of his isolation, Mobius decided to skip breakfast again, not caring that his clothes were unusually baggy after days of hardly eating anything, when a deep voice startled his dejected reverie.
“Are you just going to die in here?”
Mobius was startled and jumped to his feet. “Who are you! How did you get in here?”
“You carried me in a week ago.” The man with the wavy black hair answered matter-of-factly. “You’re going to die if you don’t eat.”
“What? I didn’t carry a man into my house last week! Are you insane?” Maybe he was the one insane? Was he hallucinating this guy?
“I’m the cat.” The man said, lifting his black shirt to reveal bandages on his torso that matched the general location of wounds the black cat had sustained, but Mobius couldn’t believe it. It was too unreal!
“Get out of my house or I will call the police.” Mobius said, though he made no move to pick up his cell phone.
“If you were going to do that, you would have done so already. There are faster ways to die than by starving yourself, though. Can’t decide if you want to go through with it?”
“I-” Mobius began, but couldn’t formulate an answer.
“My name is Loki. I am a prince of Asgard.”
“You’re that guy that destroyed half the city?”
“Yes. I am a magician and one of my abilities is shapeshifting. I turned into a cat to escape after sustaining a particularly devastating injury and fled. I lost consciousness next to a bush. The next thing I remember is you carrying me into the healer’s house.”
“You’re crazy.” Mobius said.
“You’re very well read, for a mortal.” Loki said, ignoring the accusation, apparently not in the mood to argue the matter. “I have perused your book collection in your office. You’re reading about physics and several other topics most of your people would find too dull to care about.” He shrugged. “They’re a simple-minded people.”
“Is that a compliment?” Mobius asked, relaxing a bit when it became clear that this Loki guy had no intention of hurting him.
“I suppose. But I owe you my life and so I will grant you one wish. Whatever you name, if it is in my power, it will be yours.”
“What are you, a genie?” Mobius asked, not entirely believing what the man was saying. “The only thing I want is my daughter back. Can you bring people back to life?”
“That I cannot do.”
“Oh.” Mobius sighed. “Well, there’s nothing else I want, so I’m sorry to disappoint you if you really had your heart set on repaying me.”
“I am a god,” Loki began, earning a startled and amused laugh from Mobius. “You dare scoff at me? I deign to grace you with my presence and power and this is your gratitude? I could give you anything you want. Power, money, vengeance against whoever killed your daughter.” He said that last part significantly, as if he believed Mobius would go for that.
Instead, Mobius’s bemused expression faded into a blank one and Loki realized he had said something wrong, but he didn’t understand what he had said that was objectionable nor why it was objectionable. “No, thanks.”
“Why not? Your daughter was murdered in your home. You clearly loved her. You’ve spent the entirety of the past seven days with the exception of her funeral grieving her alone in your house with no one but an injured cat to keep you company. You have been grievously wronged and while I may not be able to bring her back from the dead, I can- You aren’t listening to me. Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“What?” Loki sounded offended.
“I’m. Going. Back. To. Bed.” Mobius enunciated very clearly.
“But you haven’t eaten and I am not finis-”
Mobius shut his bedroom door without answering and crawled back into bed. On the dresser was his daughter’s favorite stuffed animal- a calico cat wearing a frilly scarf. It was well-worn and well-loved and she had had it for years. Her mother had bought it on a business trip and brought it back for her. She had brought Mobius a telescope when she returned from that trip and they had spent so much time stargazing together on clear nights.
The stuffed cat smelled like his little Marie, his beloved daughter. He closed his eyes tightly and pressed it against his face, breathing in the smell. He wrapped both arms around it, squeezing it tightly against his chest. He soon fell asleep.
When he woke up, it was to escape the awful nightmares. Nightmares in which Marie screamed for her daddy to come save her because he was always there for her and she really needed him. He couldn’t save her in his dreams, either. In some nightmares, he died with her and in others, she died in his arms as he wept. Sitting up in the bed, Mobius whimpered as the waves of despair and guilt crashed over him again. But then, his hand brushed against something soft, warm, and furry.
The cat that wasn’t a cat was curled up next to him on the blanket. He watched its abdomen and back rise and fall as it breathed slow, relaxed breaths. Its head was resting on its paws and its tail. It was cute. Looking at the animal warmed Mobius’s heart, making him feel a little better about everything just for a moment.
On the nightstand there was a cake dome that belonged to his wife. Mobius didn’t really bother with the thing, so it had been collecting dust in the cabinet for years now. Why had the strange catman put it on his nightstand?
Mobius reached for the dome and lifted it. He choked back a laugh, trying not to wake up or insult the guy (was he accepting that the guy was a guy and not actually an animal now? What had Mobius’s life become? Or maybe he actually had gone insane!). The plate that had been concealed by the cake dome had food on it, but it was clear that his guest did not know what he was doing.
There was a burnt scrambled egg, a small mountain of dry cheerios, a heaping spoonful of baked beans, and a handful of raisins and peanuts. Next to the plate was a glass of soda? Mobius reached for the glass and sniffed at it. Oh, it was grape juice. Why had the strange creature gone to all this trouble? Was it really for him? Was the catman saving this for a snack when he woke up from his nap on Mobius’s bed?
“Are you going to eat it?”
Mobius nearly jumped out of his skin. “Warn a guy first!” He snapped, but the man now sitting next to him on the mattress just smirked at him.
“Well? Are you going to eat it or not?”
The man’s expression left no room for arguments. He was equal parts hopeful and determined and something about the glint in his eye told Mobius that he was going to be force fed if he didn’t eat at least some of it on his own. He gulped down a few swallows of the grape juice before trading the glass for the plate of food. Out of the corner of his eye, Mobius watched the self-satisfied expression on the man’s face grow as Mobius chewed and swallowed a few bites of cheerios.
“I thought you would be gone before I woke up,” Mobius said. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“I told you: I owe you a debt. I am not a good person in the least, but I pay my debts. I am alive because of you. As such, it is my duty to ensure that you live.”
“You know, I bet those Avengers people probably won’t appreciate the fact that I saved your life, seeing as you wrecked New York.”
The man frowned. “I did not want-” He caught himself and looked away. “I doubt they would condemn you for rescuing an injured animal on the side of the road, even if it did wind up being me. My brother, Thor, for example, loves animals.”
Mobius moved on to the raisins, leaving the Avengers topic alone for now. “I, uh. I’m not going to eat the eggs, if you don’t mind. I’ll eat the rest of it, since you went through all that effort. But something tells me you’ve never cooked eggs before.” He poked at it with the fork and looked at it more closely. “Scratch that: I know you’ve never cooked eggs before. You only cook the stuff inside the thing, not the shell. If you want, I can teach you how?”
Loki, if Mobius remembered his name correctly, watched him with mild interest. “Very well, mortal. Teach me to cook the egg.”
The next day was much the same, and the strange catman didn’t bring up the topic of revenge or Marie again. Mobius woke up to a sleeping cat curled up against his side and a small meal under the cake dome on his nightstand. Mobius still spent a lot of his time sleeping that day, but when he wasn’t asleep or grieving, he was watching Loki with growing curiosity.
The day after that was also similar, though Mobius nudged the sleeping cat gently to wake him up instead of eating right away. The catman yawned and stretched a very big stretch before getting up and turning back into a man. Mobius gestured to the kitchen with a small, tired smile.
“Why don’t I teach you how to cook something delicious?” He asked.
The catman watched as Mobius pulled out the ingredients for homemade waffles and mixed them together while the waffle iron warmed up. Mobius’s hand rested on a jar of rainbow sprinkles. He hesitated a moment but decided to go ahead and sprinkle them into the mix.
“What are those?”
“Little sprinkles of happiness.” Mobius answered, pouring some of the mix into the waffle iron.
“Happiness is not a food; you cannot eat it. What do you mean by calling it sprinkles of happiness?”
“Uh. Because they taste good? Heh, I had a feeling you’ve never had sprinkles before. Looks like I was right. Here,” Mobius picked up the jar and poured some of the sprinkles into Loki’s hand. “Try ‘em.”
“I doubt they’re made out of fruit, but I also don’t actually know what goes into sprinkles. Lots of sugar, I’d guess, but you could always read the back of the jar if you really want to know.” Mobius flipped the waffle iron over so it could finish cooking the waffle.
“What are cornstarch, confectioner’s glaze, dextrin, red 40 lake, and all of these other ingredients?”
Mobius paused, thinking about it. “I dunno. I still eat them, though, because they’re delicious. I made this waffle for you, but if you don’t want to eat those mystery sprinkles, I can make more mix so you can have a waffle without them.”
“No, I-” Loki said. “I don’t mind the… The mystery sprinkles. However, don’t go to extra trouble for me. You must conserve your strength. You have lost quite a bit of weight and I have not been able to keep you awake long enough to eat more than one meal a day. Are you sure you are just heartsick or are you also ill? Do you need a healer?”
“Oh, it’s no tr-” Mobius tried to interject, but Loki kept talking. “That’s… I really appreciate what you’re doing, Loki. You’re a pretty nice guy for, you know, a murderer.” Loki flinched, but Mobius didn’t address it. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m just… sad. Well, sad doesn’t begin to describe it, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I had a few questions for you, though. Do you mind if I ask them?”
Loki nodded. “Ask me anything you wish.”
“Are you an alien?”
“I am a g-”
“Nope. We aren’t playing that silly game again. Are you an alien or are you just a weirdo with magic cat powers?”
“I come from Asgard, another planet far from this one.” Loki huffed.
“I have an alien living in my house. If I wasn’t grieving my daughter, this would be pretty cool! I always liked the ideas of space and time travel.” Mobius said before his guest could continue and claim to be a god again. “My next question is a little more loaded, I guess. But why did you attack New York?”
“I-” Loki hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I did not wish to do any of that.”
“Then, why did you do it?”
“There are more powerful beings in the universe than I. He was looking for something powerful and found me after a dispute with my family. He… Enlisted my help in his quest for power. Refusal was not an option. But regardless of why, I hurt many of your people.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here with me. You’re good company, you know? It looks to me like you’re turning over a new leaf. Maybe one day, you’ll make up with your brother and you can do something great to counteract the bad stuff you’ve done.”
“You’re stranger than I am.” Mobius countered. “Trying to take over the world one city at a time, turning into cats, insisting that a man you barely know eats more than one meal a day.” He listed the examples as if they were obvious. “And then offering to murder someone for murdering my daughter. You’re a weirdo.”
“All vengeance does is spread the hurt and the hate around. I’m not a fan of that, personally, so I won’t do or ask someone else to do it for me.” He served himself the waffle he had cooked during this conversation. “Let’s eat!”
Mobius set an alarm that afternoon to make sure he got out of bed that evening so he could eat dinner with his housecat.