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Loki woke up from a nightmare and it took a moment for him to orient himself. He was lying on the uncomfortable bed in his “cell”. Mobius wasn’t thrilled when he referred to it as a cell, but that’s what it was. A small, scarcely furnished room with an adjacent bathroom, which contained a toilet, a sink and a mirror, but no shower. It was originally supposed to serve as temporary (i.e., one-night) accommodation for variants in case they needed to wait overnight for their trials. It was not suited for long-term inhabitation, but unfortunately for Loki, this was the only place where the TVA was willing to store away for the nights. Mobius kept insisting that once the god proved trustworthy and useful enough, he would get the same quarters as other TVA workers. Loki was sceptical, which was totally reasonable in his opinion.
He sat up on the bed and tried to sort out his thoughts. He couldn’t really remember any details from the nightmare. He was just left with this uncontrollable feeling of dread which left his skin crawling. He shivered involuntarily and decided to stand up from the bed. No more sleep for him tonight. He’d just have to wait for Mobius to pick him up in the morning. He couldn’t leave his room (cell) by himself, no matter the circumstances. This absolute lack of control grated on his nerves, but he really had no choice, but to comply. His cell didn’t even have a clock, so he had no idea how long until Mobius appeared. It was hardly comforting.
Loki started pacing though the cramped space allowed no more than six steps before he had to turn around. Something felt wrong inside him. There was no rational reason for the anxiety slowly swallowing him whole, but he could do nothing to stop it. He needed… something. A distraction. A distraction from his swirling thoughts. Loki was no stranger to anxiety and fears, but it has been a long time since such a vague nightmare affected him to this extent. Unfortunately, pacing did nothing alleviate the feeling of wrongness. It just rather exacerbated it. Loki stopped as his legs started to feel weak, jelly-like. His breathing was shallow, and he started to be very aware of how dry his throat was. A distraction... Water. He could get some water from the sink. Despite how atrocious it tasted, Mobius assured him it was drinkable. His shaky legs carried him to the bathroom, and he absently flicked on the lamp. The harsh artificial light was a jarring contrast to the darkness of the room. Blinking hard, Loki slowly adjusted. He raised his hand to the tap, and he noticed it was shaking. Sudden anger flooded him. He’s a god. He should not be this shaken by some stupid nightmare he cannot even remember. He should be stronger than this. In his ire, he hit the wall with his palm. It caused the tiny mirror above the sink to wobble for a moment and then fall down, breaking. ‘Great. This is just great,’ thought Loki.
Part of him wanted to cry. He felt so… uprooted. Destabilised. Wrong. His gaze focused on the shattered mirror. Some of the shards fell into the sink and some were on the ground. Without really thinking about it, he grabbed the biggest shard. It had an uneven triangular shape and sharp edges. He needed a distraction.
Loki found himself kneeling next to his bed with his left hand lying on it. The shard was positioned above his wrist. He needed to do it. It felt like he would explode if he let the anxiety and feeling of wrongness fester inside him for another moment. He needed to do it. Pain is a good distraction. He slowly lowered the shard but stopped himself as he was about to break the skin. The wrist is too obvious. He did not heal as fast without his magic. Someone would notice. And no one could know. What is be the best place? Would it be enough to cut his finger? He could pass it off as a papercut. Maybe two. Yeah, two papercuts would still make a believable lie. And in case two cuts on his fingers weren’t enough, he still had more body parts to choose from. He gripped the shard tighter feeling it dig into the skin of his palm. He lowered it once again, this time towards his index finger. His hand was shaking. He stopped again. It didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to do it. Before he could change his mind again, he flung the shard towards the farthest corner of the room. He didn’t want to be near it. He couldn’t be near it. The small size of the room proved to be advantageous this one time as he didn’t have to move from his spot on the floor to forcefully shut the bathroom door. He couldn’t risk seeing the shards on the bathroom floor. He then sat with his back to the wall and curled up to the smallest ball possible, hugging his knees. He felt like crying but his eyes remained completely dry. He wanted to scream but his throat was constricted, and a pitiful whine was all that left his lips. It seemed intrusive in the quiet of the night.
Loki just wanted all of this to stop. He was overwhelmed and he did not know how to deal with it alone. His shallow, rapid breathing felt too loud, and anxiety made him sick to the stomach. For a brief moment he thought he’d vomit, but then the nausea settled to the level of constant discomfort. He really wished morning would come soon and, at the same time, he dreaded it. The prideful part of his mind hated being seen in this pitiful state, but the rest longed for someone’s presence. For Mobius’s presence. Mobius was steady and kind and reliable. Mobius knew him. Mobius could help him settle. He could ground him. Loki needed him. As soon as possible because the shard was still gleaming menacingly in the light escaping through the gap between the floor and the bathroom door. Because Loki was still shaking and unable to stop it. Because his thoughts were still too unfocused, and he still felt too wrong. He felt too full of emotions and at the same time he felt as if there was a monstrous, dark, gaping hole inside him. He uttered almost voicelessly: “Mobius, please.” It still felt a bit unpleasant to disturb the silence but not as unnatural as before. “Mobius, please,” Loki tried again. He knew his miserable pleading would have no effect whatsoever on how soon Mobius’d would come. He also knew it was below pathetic for a god to be reduced to a whining mess on the floor. And yet he did not stop. The constant, infinite stream of Mobius and please gave him something to focus on. The repetitive action was calming in this situation. He felt less like he’d break apart at any moment.
He kept the train of his desperate whispers until he had to break off with a cough. He had no idea how long he was sitting there in the dark and pleading for Mobius, but the abrupt disruption of his routine had rattled him more than he expected. After the coughing stopped, dread and wrongness took hold of him fully again. The trembling, which had lessened to an occasional shiver, and the urge to vomit returned with a vengeance. ‘No, no, no, no, no. I cannot do this again.’ This time tears filled his eyes, and some slid down his cheeks. He only managed to take small gasping breaths between the sobs. ‘Let it end already.’
Loki didn’t notice the door on his room open, but he noticed when light suddenly replaced the darkness.
“Loki?”
That was Mobius’s voice. Full of concern and worry. Loki couldn’t answer verbally, but he at least raised his head a little from where it was resting on his knees. He half believed this was all just his imagination. “Hey, Loki. What’s wrong?” Mobius asked as he approached curled up god.
“Mobius.”
“Yeah, I’m right here,” Mobius reassured him as he kneeled in front of him.
What he did not expect was Loki practically flinging himself to him and hugging him tightly. He resisted his urge to ask what’s wrong again since he knew he wouldn’t get an answer from the god silently sobbing into his neck. He rather chose to soothe as he stroked his back. “It’s okay now, kitten. I got you. Shhh. I’m right here.”
Loki eventually quieted in his hold. He was still tense, but he was not crying anymore, and his breathing was even. “Loki? Would you mind telling me what happened?” he tried.
Loki shivered involuntarily at the question. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to talk about it. Honestly, the whole night just felt like one blurry mess of dread and endless suffering and Loki did not feel like untangling the details from his memory. Some things, however, stood out. He clearly remembered how the mirror shard had dug into his hand as he held it tight to slice himself open. It probably was prudent to talk about it. What if it happened again? His dignity was in shambles anyways. What’s one more thing that proves he’s weak and pathetic?
Mobius waited patiently for Loki’s answer. He was just glad that the god did not dismiss it right away. He took a moment to look around the room clues. Nothing seemed out of ordinary except a mirror shard in the corner. How did it get there? Some theories started to form in his mind, and he did not like some of them at all.
“I don’t want to talk about it now. Later. Maybe.”
Mobius managed to hold in a sigh and most of the questions he wanted to ask. Instead, he settled on: “That’s okay. Just tell me one thing. Are you physically alright? Unharmed?”
He felt Loki jolt a tiny bit and he tried really hard not to let his mind turn to the worst scenarios.
“Yes. I am unharmed.”
He hoped Loki was telling the truth. He wasn’t entirely sure but decided to trust him. “That’s great, kitten. I’m glad.”
Both were silent for a moment. However, the agent started to feel the negative effects of being in an uncomfortable position on the floor for a significant period of time. He was also acutely aware that they were both late for work. “We should probably be getting to work or Ravonna will chew us both out,” he said lightly.
When he tried to untangle himself from Loki, the god just clung to him tighter with a small whimper. Mobius stopped trying to let go and stand up and tried to think of a solution to the current predicament. Loki didn’t seem to want to let him go anytime soon and, truly, if Mobius didn’t have work to do, he wouldn’t mind at all. Though, maybe sitting comfortably on the bed rather than kneeling on the floor would have been nice. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. “Loki, would you like to shapeshift?”
Loki raised his head from his shoulder and looked at him questioningly with eyes still red from crying. “I know your magic doesn’t work here but the shapeshifting is an inborn ability. You should be able to shift at least to some forms that feel most natural to you. Like a snake or something. That way I’ll be able to get up from this hard floor,” Mobius explained leaving out the part about how he could keep holding Loki in animal form. He didn’t want to bring any attention to it in case it’d make Loki try to act tough and invulnerable. Loki considered the idea for a moment before shifting to a black serpent. Mobius smiled at him as he carefully stroked his head. The god apparently took this as an invitation to slither up his arm and drape himself around Mobius’s neck as a loose scarf. Mobius chuckled and stood up, adjusting to the additional weight on his shoulders. “Is this alright?” he asked, just in case.
He took Loki settling into a more comfortable position and flicking out his forked tongue a few times as an affirmation.
Walking around with a snake earned Mobius a few curious glances, but he ignored them all, content when he felt Loki relax completely and later doze off. The biggest surprise of the day was definitely when B-15 approached him, noticed Loki, promptly paled and excused herself. Who would have guessed she’s so afraid of snakes?