Work Text:
Green.
It’s the first color Mobius sees. His world fills with new colors, sensory levels overwhelmed as his gaze scatters across the courtroom. Browns, yellows, colors he’d only heard of before he finally sees with his own eyes.
But the green. The cold, emerald green. L1130 stares back at Mobius, eyes full of suspicion, and Mobius can’t help but let his breath hitch.
Oh no.
Mobius’ heart sinks as fast as it had risen. This variant, L1130, Loki, is his soulmate.
But Mobius had read Loki’s files one too many times to forget.
Mobius is not Loki’s.
…
The description is simple.
Soulmate Assignment for L1130:
Variant M1230
Unnamed human (Midguardian) male
Birthdate: 1951
L1130 passes by M1230 in Miami, Florida, 1992. Accompanied by T8091. After L1130 completes a bet given by his brother, M1230 and L1130 do not meet again.
And that was it. There is no photo, no name, nothing that the TVA deems irrelevant. Loki meets their soulmate and loses them just as quickly.
The TVA is always right, always exact; the Time Keepers would not let an event like this go differently. It only confirms his denial- he can’t be M1230.
First, Mobius was created by the TVA. Second, L1130 and M1230 do not meet again.
He is not from the Sacred Timeline. He has met Loki and will meet him again soon.
The description is simple.
The realization hurts.
...
“Do agents have a soulmate?”
The question startles Mobius out of the zone, looking up from the file. He’s begun to admire the different shades of brown that surround him; the bland carpet, the brown shelving, the mundane tables. It’s a comforting simplicity compared to all the different colors on the timeline, vibrant purples and stunning blues and bright reds, all yelling at his senses whenever he goes on a mission.
Brown feels homely to him, but looking at Loki feels like home. A green that is never harsh, only blinding, staring right back at Mobius.
“Yes, we have soulmates.” Mobius says, quirking a brow at the notion. “Why the question?”
Loki shrugs his shoulders, but a light flickers through their eyes; Mobius could never miss it. “The fact baffles me. If you, an agent, are never supposed to be involved with variants, does that mean that your soulmate is a TVA worker? There’s a whole part of the TVA you’ve never taken me to, but it seems like you never get the time to go yourself. The situation is confusing.”
Mobius nods his head slowly; he can pelt out information as needed. “We aren’t allowed to know who our soulmates are. It would put us in the role of the Time Keepers.”
“Don’t you play ‘god’ to the world?”
“No, we help the Time Keepers,” Mobius refutes, flipping the file in his hands and laying it down on the table. “They are ‘God’ in a sense. Knowing would break our role.”
“Yet you can know everyone else's.” Loki scowls, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. His gaze is harsh, but Mobius notices that there’s a hint of clarity in them. They get back to work for mere minutes before Loki’s head whips up, Mobius’ following shortly behind.
“Where’s the phrase?”
“Hmm?”
“The phrase,” Loki points to the line on a file. The variant F1473, a human from the Renaissance Era. “Where is it in the file?”
“Well,” Mobius slows his pace, tilting his head down to return his stare at the paper below him. “Asgardians hear a certain phrase, Midgardians gain the ability to see color, the-”
“Midgardians are colorblind?” Loki cuts him off, head jolting forward at the comment. Mobius’ gaze redirects back to Loki’s eyes, wide and curious, mischief in the making. “That’s how they know?”
Mobius nods. “They gain the ability to see color whenever they meet their soulmate for the first time. There’s no need to put phrases in their file because they don’t have one.”
Loki sits with this knowledge, tilting his head to the side like a cat. “So you’re colorblind?”
Mobius stills. He debates on the liability of lying to Loki. He doesn’t want to lie, but… well, hasn’t he been lying to them this whole time? Loki is his soulmate, but Mobius isn’t his; how much more could he explain? How much does he want to?
Mobius takes the leap he can manage. “I was.”
He’s met with silence.
“Was?” Loki mimics after the pause, a slight shiver to his voice. “How long?"
Mobius chuckles, begging his emotions to stay out of Loki’s innocent inspection. “I don’t know, time works differently here.” It’s not the truth, but it definitely isn’t a lie.
Loki doesn’t say a word. His lips purse together, eyes drilling bullets into Mobius’ skull. He can’t tell if Loki’s simply fascinated at the fact that Mobius actually has a soulmate, being a curious creature by nature, or if it’s something else. Maybe Loki asks because he wants to know, truly know Mobius, be close to him, be-
No. Mobius cannot get involved, he certainly can’t wish, and he definitely knows the outcome.
Loki is his soulmate, but Mobius is not his. This will be his downfall.
“Who?” Loki whispers, and Mobius’ heart clenches, sighing in defeat.
“Doesn’t matter.” Mobius says solemnly, eyes drifting away from Loki’s. “I’m not theirs.”
…
They become good friends.
Great friends, Mobius could bargain. Loki is mischievous, but that’s who he’s always been. Asking for a Loki with no mischief is like asking for a soda with no sizzle. It’s simply not possible.
They play office wars, go on little mini escapades, raid the archives at 2 AM, steal each other’s pencils and granola bars, gather inside jokes from the indefinite amount of time they’ve worked together. Mobius introduces Loki to all sorts of candies from multiple different planets, Loki tells Mobius tales from Asgard that he pretends not to know. They meld together. They work as one.
The Time Keepers are unbiased with their charity. With all the power they have to be kind, they have the power to be cruel. There are hundreds of thousands of millions of people who never meet their soulmate, or lose them quickly, or are soulmates with someone else. Mobius is one of these people. It is an unbiased decision, not a punishment.
And honestly? Mobius can live with this. If a soulmate feels like this , like someone you can melt into yet still keep your own shape, mix and yet still keep the same flavor, be your own person and yet fall perfectly into the puzzle, then he has no problem with being a great friend.
None at all.
…
“So,” Loki begins, “Do colors freak you out?”
The two of them look down at the lifeless variant, blood pooling towards their feet. Mobius walks a few steps back, tugging at Loki’s jacket to pull him back.
Colors stun him at times, new variations and shades confusing his perception, and he’s obviously picked some favorites. That doesn’t mean he can tell Loki that.
“Not really. I’ve had them for a while now, so they’re just… here.” Mobius replies, straightening his own tie. Loki presses his jacket back to what he finds presentable and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“But in the beginning,” Loki re-evaluates the question, eyes honed in on the variant. “Did they confuse you?”
Mobius thinks about it. “Well, I saw all different kinds of colors, but I couldn’t put a name to them.” He motions towards the blood below them. “I didn’t realize red was called red.”
Loki nods, the shouts of other Hunters becoming more prominent. “Hmm.” Someone unlocks the variant's time collar, registering the corpse’s nonexistent pulse. “Do you have a favorite?”
As said before, he does have favorites. “Browns and oranges are comforting,” Mobius’ eyes follow the Hunters approaching him, waiting for new orders, “but I think green is my favorite.” He belts out the next course of action, walking towards a place they can use the tempad.
“What a coincidence.” Loki says sarcastically, beginning to pace behind Mobius. A Hunter drops a reset charge, the rest beginning to return to the TVA. “How come?”
Mobius doesn’t have to think too long; the answer to that is simple.
You.
“It stands out, sort of like blue.” He murmurs as they walk through the timedoor, shoes clacking on the TVA tile.
“So it’s noticeable?”
Mobius shrugs. “It’s beautiful.”
…
So he’s a variant.
The little ping he feels in his chest at the concept? He drowns it. Muffles it under fact, destroys the image altogether.
The knowledge of him being a variant should not change the knowledge of his soulmate status.
Loki is his soulmate. He is not Loki’s.
There is such a tiny chance that he is the ‘unnamed man’ in the file it makes him sick. But the possibility that he could be?
It kills him.
...
“You care about him.” Sylvie comments in the pizza delivery car, bee-lining it away from Alioth.
Mobius nods at the notion. He does care about Loki, that’s an undeniable fact. They are Mobius’ soulmate, yes, but they are also… something else. They have a connection that feels like a pull, draws the two of them together. Perhaps it is the ‘soul bond’ for Mobius, but it doesn’t explain the reciprocation from the other side. “I do.”
Sylvie adjusts in her seat, pulling herself up so her face is peering into the front. “You care about me as well.”
Mobius snorts. “Well, yeah, I wouldn't have just saved your-”
“But you care about him.” Sylvie cuts him off, leaving him with the unspoken truth. Loki might have been his soulmate to begin, but now it is not destiny; it is love. He is in love with Loki. Soulmate or not, Mobius feels as though he’d always manage to tumble into this thought.
“I do.” Mobius repeats, feigning ignorance to her suggestion.
“He cares about you too.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Just good?”
“What are you trying to get at?” Mobius questions as he rips the steering wheel to the left, throwing them to the side of the car.
After she readjusts herself, she begins again. “He’s upset that you can see in color.”
Mobius jolts his head back into his seat, blinking in absurdity. “He’s upset that I can see in color?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“And that’s why our relationship is good?”
“Mobius-” Sylvie runs a hand down her eyes, dragging her eye bags with it, eyes bland as Mobius’ looks back and forth between her and the road. “He’s upset that you have a soulmate.”
Mobius chuckles at that, rolling his eyes. “A guy can’t be happy for me?”
“No, that’s what I’m trying to explain-” Her hands grab at the air in frustration, “Forget it. You two can suffer in solitude.” She retreats back into the rear seat, crossing her arms and puffing her cheeks, looking out the window.
Mobius retreats into his own headspace. The thoughts of not finding Loki, finding him alone, finding him too late- they all swarm inside his head. But the thought of finding Loki just fine, alive and well? That's the one he focuses on.
He sets his sights towards a certain shade of green and doesn’t look back.
…
Mobius stares at all the Loki variant’s in front of him, and realizes he probably won’t see any of them again.
“What are you going to do?” Loki questions as Mobius fiddles with the tempad, turning it to the right coordinates. Mobius lifts his head and makes eye contact with Loki, blue matching green. If he doesn’t remember much of what happens next, he’ll never forget that color.
A small smile. “Burn it to the ground.” His eyes crease, full of warmth and comfort and love , finally out in the open for the world to see. He can’t think of much else to say, so he doesn’t say much at all. It’s time to say goodbye.
A simple thank you is enough.
“Thanks for the spark.”
Loki’s eyes widen as Mobius turns away, opening up the time door, ready to walk through and finish what they started. Mobius doesn’t look back at Loki, can’t, not when he’s almost sure he’ll never see his soulmate again.
Well. It began as his soulmate, but it ended as his friend. Despite probable cause, the person Mobius is in love with is his friend. A great friend. A fantastic partner. They have an undeniable bond, a beginning and an end.
He can live with that.
“Mobius!” Loki cries out, and really cries, his whole face wrinkling up, hands stiff beside his waist. The word comes out like a prayer, a desperate plea, and Mobius is not one to deny Loki something he wants.
He stops at the edge of the timedoor. “Yes, Loki?” He asks with a cocked brow, trying to keep an unassuming stance on his outburst.
Loki stands still, fingers beginning to fidget. He grabs the dagger from behind him, holding it close to his waist. “Mobius,” He begins, rolling the blade in his hand, and Mobius trys to draw meaning from his motion. “When did you start to see color?” His voice trembles, a faint reflection starting to swell in his eyes.
Mobius sees the sadness that envelops him, the strain that the question took on Loki. He has no right to keep the answer from them.
He puts one foot through the timedoor, giving off a little salute to the rest of the group. He draws Loki’s eyes one last time, engraving it in his mind, for all time.
“When I met you.” Mobius smiles wide, euphoric on the memory, and walks into the TVA.
…
Mobius remembers what green is supposed to look like.
This is not green.
This is something that resembles the color green, something close to the shade he’s searching for, but it’s not green. It’s not his green, a certain shade of emerald, the one color he’s been trying to find through all these timelines.
A near perfect replica, but not his own.
He searches for a long time, sees a plethora of colors he’s never seen before, pigmentations and filters and variations galore. He gets close at points, and Mobius believes that this time might be the one. It never is.
Mobius shouldn’t be searching for him, yet an anomaly infiltrates his mind, a wild accusation; he thinks that Loki wants to see him too.
Maybe Loki went to find his own soulmate, Mobius thinks one day, shuffling through the dense overgrowth of another planet. Maybe he’s chosen a spot in the middle of spacetime, kept out of trouble, is living the life that he’d always wanted. Maybe Loki does not want to be found.
Mobius does not know the answer. There is no evidence to base a conclusion.
All Mobius knows is that he is getting tired. He needs to rest.
He hasn’t stopped searching since the search began, and he will never stop said search, but he needs a moment to rest. His mind needs to settle, his body needs to heal, his heart needs to mend.
So he chooses a beach. It’s quiet this early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Mobius pulls his jacket inward, the chill in the air aided by humid air. He finds a suitable hump of sand, abandoned by children sometime ago, and settles into the ground beneath him. An infinite display of dark blue, warm colors spread across the sky, a comforting brown cradling his body.
It’s calm here.
That should’ve been the first sign.
Mobius feels them before he sees them. It’s a rush, like a wave, crashing through the air as their voice tumbles through the wind.
“Mobius?” The question is loud, bolstering through the quiet ache. Mobius turns his head and sees it; green.
The green, his green, wide and glowing and staring right at him.
The recognition must’ve been clear, because Loki begins to bolt over to Mobius as he shuffles out of the sand, catching himself as Loki collides into him. He laughs through the air knocked out of him, unable to wipe the grin off his face.
“Loki?” He teases with the same tone Loki used before. It earns him a smug smile.
“Yes, it’s them you’re speaking to.” Loki responds, and Mobius’ heart coddles the words, exhausted from the hunt, grateful for the response. It brings him back to square one, back to a pleasant place, a comfortable area; it reminds him of home.
Because that’s who Loki is. Loki is his soulmate, and no matter where Mobius lands, it would not be home without him. “I’m glad.”
Loki doesn’t release his grip on Mobius when he peers out to the ocean. “It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
He looks back. “How long for you?”
Mobius shrugs. “I don’t remember.” And he really doesn't, not anymore. “Doesn’t matter. I mean, you found me, didn’t you?”
Loki turns an amused edge to his eye. “Relaxing on a beach at that.”
Mobius rolls his eyes playfully. “I was taking a break. Searching for you takes a lot of energy.”
“A break? The TVA agent takes breaks now?”
“Hey,” Mobius starts, looking down at Loki’s lips, before gaining the most risky thought Mobius could ever conceive. He wants to pull Loki down into a kiss, feel his cheek in his hand, taste their lips on his own. He doesn’t know why he thinks about it; the idea overtakes any rational thought, high off the feeling of having Loki back, that makes Mobius want to take the leap of the ledge.
“Mobius,” Loki whispers as he presses their foreheads together, intertwining their fingers, “Am I your soulmate?”
Mobius stills. His heart throbs at the question, knowing the answer on the horizon. “Yes.” He says simply, no room for misinterpretation. It’s the least Loki deserves.
“Good.” Loki’s smile could beat the sunset’s shine. It comes out as a whisper: “You’re mine too.”
No.
Now that makes Mobius’ blood run cold. He huffs, releasing tension from his hold on Loki’s hand, pulling his head away. “Don’t do that, Loki. Please don’t lie to me.”
Loki cocks his head. “Mobius, I’m not lying.”
Mobius nods his head down, chuckling at the irony of it all. “No, Loki. You are. I’ve read your file too many times to miss something like this.”
He cocks a brow, a sharp inhale at the accusation. “So you’re going to believe all the things the TVA lied to you about? That the file you read on me oh-so-many times is the truth?” Loki says sarcastically, refusing to let go of Mobius’ hand. “I know my own truth. My own background. The TVA didn’t have any file on you, so what’s to say they have the correct file on me? And when you said the phrase, it’s like a light went off in my head, a-”
“Phrase?” Mobius cuts in. “What phrase?”
The sun begins to puncture the sky, Loki shuffling to keep the light out of his eyes. “‘Thanks for the spark.’ You said it in the Void.” Emerald eyes shuffle through Mobius’ thoughts, green eyes locking with his own. “There’s no way I didn’t feel what I felt. I cannot deny it.”
Mobius feels the reverberation of Loki’s confession, strong and steady and undeniable. “‘Thanks for the spark’, huh?”
“What,” Loki concedes, “Was it supposed to be something else?”
And that’s when it clicks; Loki didn’t have a phrase. The file never included it because he never would have been with his soulmate long enough to need one. Loki didn’t have a phrase in the file because he was not supposed to have it.
But maybe he did. Maybe he did have a phrase, just not on the Sacred Timeline. Not where whoever cared about it thought it mattered. Maybe it was in the Void with him. Maybe it was with Mobius. Maybe Mobius was M1230, maybe he could have this dream for himself. He could never deny the pull for himself, but now Loki has confessed to the pull as well.
“No,” Mobius whispers, “You didn’t have a phrase.”
Loki’s eyes soften. “But I do,” He lets go of Mobius’ hands and places both of his own on Mobius’ shoulders. “And it’s you. It has to be. I thought about it before, how you felt like nothing I’ve ever felt before, like you were always going to be the one. But you had already met your soulmate, and I couldn’t-”
Mobius knows all to well how the rest is going to go, so similar to his own thinking, and he doesn’t want Loki to spiral anymore. He cuts Loki off with a kiss, cupping Loki’s cheek with his right hand. Quietly applying pressure to Loki’s lips, he waits until he feels Loki grip his shoulders and kiss him back to continue.
Mobius pulls back for a breath, staring at lidded green eyes; his green, an original color, the first one he ever saw and the best one he ever will. They flutter close as Loki initiates the kiss this time, and Mobius’ heart rumbles in his chest.
An unbelievable nexus event; Loki is Mobius’ soulmate, and Mobius is Loki’s.
But hey, maybe it was never a nexus event at all.
All he knows, at this single moment in time, is that this feels like home.
...
Illustrations by kc_bex ( @_cavahn on twitter) :
