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There was no way out. There was no escaping the inevitability of death. There is no way to ready yourself for the pain death brings. There is no escaping the dread, the emotions, the trauma it leaves you with.
So how could one comprehend hearing the words, “he’s not going to make it.” How does one hold onto those words without wanting to throw them away instantly?
The trick is to never care. To never love someone, at least that's what he’s told himself his whole life. If you never love, you never lose.
As much as Loki told himself he should never love, they knew deep down he couldn’t live up to that. Once he’s lost who he’s loved, only then is when he truly realizes what he misses.
“He’s not going to make it,” has been replaying in his head ever since he and Mobius came back from their mission. No matter how much Loki begged the TVA agent to not come and face the dangerous, lose variant, he persisted. The Asgardian couldn’t save Mobius in time as the dagger headed directly toward him.
Now Loki has to face the death of the only person he’s trusted.
It’s hard to even look at him. Every time he does, all he feels is guilt. He should have been there to save him. If only the time agents hadn’t taken Mobius away from his grasp, away from his magic. Loki’s convinced himself that he could have saved his partner if he was given just a little longer.
He had stormed off to yell at the Hunter who insisted on bringing Mobius back, when the doctor said he could have survived had Loki finished healing him.
“You’re lucky I haven’t struck you with one of those pruning sticks yet!” Loki exclaims, approaching the Hunter who could look the least bit bothered.
“Hmm?” D-90 mumbles, looking up from his lunch. Disgusting. Here Loki is grieving while the Hunter is eating his lunch oh-so-casually.
Loki reaches forward and grabs him by the collar. The hunter is pulled up to his feet, spitting his lunch out onto the cafe floor.
“You deserve to have your blood drained from your head.”
“Damn! Is this about Mobius?” He shoves Loki off him, brushing his jacket. “I only did what was right.” He gestures his arms out beside him.
“I was seconds away from saving his life.” Loki drops their voice low.
“I had no way of trusting you, variant. I was instructed to keep you away from Mobius.”
“Don’t lie to me. You just wanted to see me miserable.”
“No, I wanted to do my job so I don’t get killed.”
“As if your life is more important than his.” Loki backs away, only then is he noticing the eyes on he and D-90. By the entrance, two guards have entered, watching Loki intently. “Sleep with one eye open.” He warns exiting the room.
If he couldn’t save Mobius then, they’re going to save him now. Confronting D-90 may not have been in his plan, but now he’s back on track, headed towards the infirmary.
The only tempad he knows the location of is in Mobius' coat pocket. The hallways through the medical area are long and puzzling. 1017, they remind themself, one right, one left, straight down the hall.
He bursts through Mobius’ unsurveilled room, headed straight towards the brown, suit jacket sitting on the bedside table. Loki directs his eyes away from Mobius’ pale face, he knows he’ll lose objective if he takes in the dying body. They retrieve the device, flipping through to open a portal.
“Mobius,” Loki gently shakes his shoulder, earning a slow head tilt from his partner. The variant helps him up, sitting him on the edge of the bed to scoop him into their arms.
Through the orange portal, Loki awes at the Asgardian castle in front of them. The wrong occasion for a family reunion.
“Loki,” Mobius coughs, patting the prince’s arm. Alerted, Loki carefully places Mobius on the sidewalk.
“Yes? What’s wrong?” He brushes the agent’s face, denying how cold he feels against their palm.
He rests his head down on the pavement, closing his eyes.
Loki panics, “no, no, no, Mobius!” He runs his hand down onto Mobius’ heart, letting out a sigh of relief when feeling a beat.
“I’m sorry,” he grunts, hurting when he can’t move his body to sit up.
“Don’t start with that, you’re not leaving me.”
Mobius hisses in pain when he tries to move, “hurts,” he whispers, pointing down to his chest.
Where he was stabbed… Loki thinks, not wanting to look at the injury. Pushing past the worry, they lift up his shirt to reveal the bandage the TVA had put on him as soon as his arrival. Looking up to the sky, he begins to reveal the wound with his magic, swearing to not touch it.
“Fuck!” Mobius halts, reflexes grabbing Loki’s arm.
“I’m sorry,” they lean down to whisper against Mobius’ forehead. “You’re gonna be okay.” He assures Mobius (and himself).
Once the bandage is fully removed, Loki hovers his hand over the open flesh, magic flowing to heal him, shushing any grunts of pain Mobius makes.
“I’ve got you.” Mobius nods his head in response, tears brimming his eyes, all the pain coming back.
The green magic soothing into his cut, working to stitch up the gash.
“S’not working, Loki,” he mutters, lazily tugging on Loki’s shirt. “I need help, a doctor.”
“It’s okay, I’m healing you,” he runs a hand through his silver hair.
“I’ve lost too much blood.”
Loki looks around taking note of where he is in the kingdom. They pick him up once more, still attending to his wound. He knows the Asgardian doctors are the best of the nine realms, so he’ll trust them with Mobius. Though they still worry, watching Mobius doze off. Jogging through the grand halls of the palace, Loki comes to face a guard of the palace who sees the rush they are in to save the hurt agent.
They find themselves in the healing room, Mobius laid out on the table, doctors huddle around him. He sits by the door surveilling to make sure no one hurts him more.
“Son?” Loki whips their head towards the door, flying to their feet.
“Mother?” He tries to not sound surprised to keep cover but fails miserably. Frigga stands beside the doorframe to the infirmary, in all of her glory.
“What may be the problem here? Who is this man?” Frigga eyes the body on the table.
“A friend, I’m afraid I should inform you of my situation.”
She gives an understanding smile, heading out the door and ushering Loki to follow. He does.
-
“I’ve missed you so much, I apologize for dropping Mobius and I on you in such urgent need.”
Frigga reaches out for her child, laying her hands upon his shoulders.
“It’s quite alright. I’m just glad you came back to me, love.” Her smile reassures his anxiety. “You can finally rest, my child, your partner is in good hands.”
“I can’t lose him, I’ve already lost so much,” they whisper with tears in their eyes.
“Dear,” she engulfs him in a much-needed hug. Loki feels he can finally relax in her arms. “You need to rest, you lack sleep.” He nods his head.
“I should stay and watch-”
“Loki, I will stay and talk with healers. You go to bed.” Frigga lays a soft kiss to his forehead, gently leading him to his room.
-
They couldn’t sleep without needing his mother’s magic. He wants to live a while longer in the morning bliss of no worry, but alas, he knows the situation he left Mobius in last night. His anxieties get the best of him, his fears leading him down the stairs to see the condition Mobius is in.
“Child,” Frigga greets at the doorway, her facial expressions hitting Loki in the heart.
“How is he?” They fear the response.
“Mobius is… stable,” his mother frowns, offering a hand to hold. “But his blood loss was a great deal and is currently immobile. The healers are doing everything they can to keep his heart awake.”
“So you’re wanting me to tell them to pull the plug?” His voice cracks with emotion. The worst way to start your day.
“Sweetheart, no,” she pulls him into her side, rubbing his arm. “But you knew coming here he wasn’t salvageable.”
“He was.” He pulls away pushing past her to enter the room Mobius was kept in.
“Loki-”
They ignore her, staring at Mobius’ body through their teary eyes. “Mobius,” he whispers, slowly approaching him, the one doctor excusing themselves from the room.
The agent tilts his head to the side to see Loki walking over. The Asgardian pulls out a chair to sit beside him and reaches out his hand to touch Mobius’, relieved when Mobius’ skin feels slightly warmer than when he last had contact with him. Mobius’ usual bright eyes are now dull with little to no light behind them. Loki notices the tubes that are connected to his nose to keep him breathing.
“They told me,” Mobius says, rubbing his thumb against Loki’s knuckles. All Loki can do is nod his head, trying to compose their emotions. “I had a feeling I was a goner.” He attempts to chuckle, but it turns into a coughing fit. Loki hands a glass of water to him, he sips it carefully.
“Your mother is lovely,” he wipes the water off his lips with the back of his hand. “She loves you so much.” Mobius gently squeezes Loki’s hand. “She told me she’s proud of who you’ve become. I’m proud too.” He smiles.
Loki can’t hold in the tears. He’s never felt so hurt.
“I know you’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
“Don’t,” they mutter, voice breaking.
“You will, Loki.” Mobius squeezes his hand again, pulling Loki’s hand to rest on his chest. “Stay in Asgard, live the life you were meant to have. You deserve it.” He speaks softly. As alarming as this moment is, his voice has its usual soothing effect.
“I can’t live without you,” he cries out. Mobius frowns, gesturing for his partner to lie down beside him. Loki follows, moving their body to be next to him, he moves his hand to rest on Mobius’ heart.
“You’re beautiful,” he runs a finger along Loki’s cheek, collecting tears along his fingertip. “I know you doubt yourself, but you’re truly amazing. It’s been an honour to work alongside you, my prince.” Mobius smirks.
The Asgardian hides his face against Mobius’ neck, soaking the shirt Mobius was given by the healers.
“I could have saved you. If I just had more time, I could have fixed this.” They sob, gripping his shirt. Mobius rubs their back.
Loki wishes he could stay in this moment forever, minus the tears. He’s never felt so close to someone. It’s wrong that death is the reason for that.
“Don’t look back on the past, please don’t beat yourself up for that.” He coughs, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Loki tries to focus on his breathing, hiccuping in between breaths.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” he hiccups, “you trusted me before I even trusted myself.” He feels Mobius’ mustache upon his forehead, lips gently leaving a kiss. Loki looks up from his neck, staring into his blue eyes. “And I trusted you,” he sniffles, “I trusted you with my life.” He leans upwards on his elbow so that he can rest slightly above the agent. Loki runs their hand along Mobius’ face, gently tracing the tubes running off the side of his face.
Loki leans down, leaving an inch of a gap between their faces. He feels as if everything between them has led up to this moment. They know they would never let themselves down if they didn’t express their feelings towards their partner.
“I love you,” he moves down slowly, connecting their lips. Mobius’ lips are chapped, moving slowly against his. He leaves the kiss short, being considerate of his breathing. Loki repositions to hug himself to Mobius, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek before laying his head on his shoulder.
Mobius turns his head to kiss the top of the variant’s head. “I love you, Lokes.”
Loki’s tears silently return, slipping off his cheek, turning the light blue shirt into a navy. Mobius cups Loki’s shaking shoulders, using his weakening strength to hold them as closely as possible.
“With all my years at the TVA, all the timelines I’ve been to, I’ve never loved someone the way I loved you.”
-
The funeral was small as per Loki’s request, small meaning just herself. Giving herself alone time to celebrate Mobius’ life. Under the willow tree, Loki sat, a jar full of ashes resting in her hands. The leaves of the willow blow gently as a gush of wind brushes past her. Loki heaves herself up from the ground, taking in the landscape of the forest and creek. Her black shall and hair whips in the breeze. She looked eloquent.
Loki up caps the jar, spreading the ashes along the water, the wind carrying it down the turns of the river. She rests the jar down on the grass, standing tall to mourn in the chilly air.
“For all time.” Loki waits a moment as if one was to finish the saying. She inhales, composing herself to walk away. She keeps her head up high, shushing any tears that threaten to fall. She needs to be strong. Loki wants to be strong for him. Her life is now hers to choose, her destiny is whatever she desires. Mobius taught Loki how to be whomever they wanted to be, so she’ll do exactly that.