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Loki ran through the brightly-lit halls of the TVA. His throbbing ankles shook with the impact his shoes made against the shiny tiled floors, rattling his heart within the confinements of his ribcage.
Did the hallways ever end? A turn and then another he made around sharp corners, all while his eyes dimmed and dried and pearls of sweat freckled his forehead. 'The timeline's in trouble,' he tried to scream, to warn the idle office-goers, but his throat was parched from wide-eyed sobbing, and only a dry gasp escaped his lips.
Help. Get help. Any help.
Who? His memories blurred and refocused as he tried to scramble for a name.
Mobius.
Yes, him. He would know what to do. He always did! Loki smiled. No matter how many mischievous plots Loki cooked up, Mobius would always arrive at the scene, put a stop to it and wrap it up in a minute or two…
Loki shuddered to think about minutes. He instead decided to focus on the umber TVA garb Mobius donned each day that radiated the warmth of the sun, his silver hair, reminiscent of a moon-kissed sea, and his eyes…
His eyes. A brewing storm caged within his iris, the black of his pupil the tip of a lighthouse at the center. And whenever he smiled, whether chiding or earnest, they would always take on some sort of spark…
The thought of Mobius calmed Loki, allowing his head to slowly clear.
Soon, Loki reached the canteen. It looked pristine and empty, almost foreign. Even the raucous vending machines seemed to fall silent upon his arrival. And to his dismay, no Mobius. Instead, his fingers caressed visions only he could see, of the conversations they had shared only weeks ago.
The thrumming behind his eyes became the tick of a clock. How much time had passed? With every second he spent dawdling, the end of time drew nearer. How he wished to let his knees buckle underneath him, to clutch his head and howl. Shattered thoughts of Sylvie’s ||kiss|| turned the backs of his eyes white-hot.
He blinked once, hard, and resumed the search through eyes parched with repressed tears.
Find Mobius.
Where could he be?
Through the opaque mist of his mind, an epiphany visited him. Faded coffee stains on crisp office paper, tousled files stacked carelessly on top of each other and endless walls of cramped shelves.
The archives. Where else would Mobius go? Loki patted himself mentally on the back for being able to figure this out so quickly. Mobius was an analyst. Analysts did research. Research required files. The archives had files. How clever of him.
His mind spun in a garbled mess as he wove through the other rooms towards the walls of bookshelves, skidding to an abrupt halt.
He heard Mobius’s voice first, and it was tinged with frustration, ‘At this point, how are we going to stop it?’
Then he saw him.
A familiar silhouette, soft from the dusty lights of the TVA.
Mobius, he wanted to say. His voice shook, and the lump in his throat threatened to give way to torrents of tears.
I missed you.
Then Mobius turned, still conversing with Hunter B-15, and Loki’s breath was sucked out of his lungs. His face, stress-worn yet kind, and his eyes were just as he remembered them, a gentle storm.
Loki wanted to run into his arms, inhale the musty scent of his jacket with his head in the crook of his neck. But he needed to explain everything, and he blurted out, ‘We can’t!’
Mobius’s eyes narrowed in confusion. ‘What?’
Loki swallowed.
‘It’s done, Mobius. We’ve made a terrible mistake.’
It was all their fault, wasn’t it? Loki thought. He would at least have to own up to it.
‘What’s done?’ Mobius’s voice contained not a trace of accusation, which Loki appreciated very much.
‘We freed the Timeline. We found him beyond the storm. A Citadel at the End of Time. He's terrifying. He planned everything. He's seen everything. He knows everything. It's complicated. Okay?’ Loki’s voice cracked at the end, threatening to break the dam to thousands of tears.
‘Right...’ Mobius said, clearly trying to make sense of it all. His hands were held out, as if to placate the distraught person before him. His eyes flitted to different places on Loki's face, concerned.
'But someone is coming,' Loki continued. 'Countless different versions of the same, very deadly person. And they're all set on war. We need to prepare, and fast.' His chest relaxed a bit now that he had delivered the message.
'Take it easy. You're an analyst, right?'
What?
Was this some sort of joke? A ludicrous, tactless, badly-delivered joke?
It had to be. Loki anticipated the pat on his back and the soft 'I'm just kidding' from Mobius, but it never came.
'Mobius, I don't think you quite understand, we're all in grave danger, there's no time to take it easy-' Loki rambled.
'Who are you?'
The words Mobius had said felt more like a swift punch to the gut.
His face was gentle but distant, and full of the sentiment one experiences when confronted with a harmless madman. With his eyebrows tilted up in puzzlement, Mobius repeated himself. 'Who are you?'
Loki was speechless. He observed Mobius's face.
There was no doubt about it. This was Mobius. So what had happened to him? Had some hapless goon erased his memory?
He tried to convince himself that this was but a simple error, that the memory of Loki was buried deep inside his brain and a simple hint could recall them, but however familiar the analyst's face was, Loki could not shake off the feeling that this was not his Mobius at all.
Mobius was speaking. Loki could tell. But he couldn’t hear a word he had said. The impact of Mobius being oblivious as to who he was was like a sweet poison. It turned his brain cold in a painless way.
‘Mobius,’ he breathed, his voice a pleading zephyr.
‘It’s me. It’s Loki.’ He searched Mobius’s face, eyes skimming over the familiar creases in his skin, over every strand of silver hair, for he did not dare to meet his eyes. The eyes held the most secrets and at the moment, Loki could not afford to discover any more.
His face betrayed no sign of recognition, a mask.
At last, Loki found the courage to glance up at his eyes.
He found nothing. His eyes were a gentle storm, still, but they did not hold the familiar spark Loki found solace in so often.
The horror, the last kick of the poison found Loki as the realization settled in.
Loki stared into the eyes of a stranger.