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The room exploded in searing light, Mobius’ vision nearly whiting out as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. The Loom had finally fractured under its heavy burden, hundreds of timelines blistering and bursting before they could be woven into the great multiversal tapestry.
Loki was—had been—out there, somewhere.
He had yet to return from the Void, where he’d stayed to find out what or who Alioth was guarding. There was little hope for that now.
The wish he’d silently held for Loki’s return, the tiny flame of hope that he’d shielded against all doubt—against every failed search for his temporal aura, against each pair of eyes that followed him with a pitying gaze and then looked away, too busy with their own concerns to spare a thought for the man who tried his hardest to build everyone up and hold everything together—was finally snuffed out.
The TVA had done this. The TVA had not only stolen his normal life on the Sacred Timeline, it had stolen the one precious, beautiful thing he’d discovered here within its walls. Loki challenged him, inspired him, and made him feel things he never knew he’d lost. He’d give his life if it meant securing Loki’s happiness, and the power of that emotion alone was overwhelming.
But it was too late.
That glowing, smoldering ember of love was consumed, swallowed up entirely by a wave of grief. Grief that was going to eat him alive… unless it became something else.
That something else flickered to life, lighting up red hot fury in his eyes and boiling agony in his heart. Flames licked over his skin, shimmering gold, but he didn’t even feel it over the numbing pain of loss.
“Everyone, get out.” The words came out in a hollow, broken growl, so far from his usual cheerful, joking tone.
B-15, still stunned from the explosion, took a halting step back, flinching away instinctively.
“Mobius?” she asked, and a line of fire erupted between them with a minute twitch of his fingers. “You’re on fire.”
Mobius didn’t respond to the confusion in her voice. “Get out, if you can.” With a wave of his hand the wall exploded, dials shattering and levers melting with the heat. A plume of steam billowed up, enveloping half of the walkway.
Ouroboros yelped and clutched at his arm, staggering backwards only to be caught by Casey, who clung to his side with an expression of pure terror.
“I need to turn on the emergency fire suppression,” Ouroboros said, nodding up at Casey.
“Okay, but let me do it. Your hand is—” Casey looked down. It wasn’t good. They needed to get him to medical, fast.
“There has to be something we can do!” B-15 shouted, finally finding her voice.
“No,” Mobius turned to her, the whites of his eyes glowing a dull orange. “Not anymore.” His voice was completely flat, bereft of any emotion.
The flames along the back wall leapt higher, spreading across the floor to the console. The keyboard melted, twisting into warped, blackened plastic.
Ouroboros’ shoulders fell.
“What are you doing?” B-15 asked, staring at Mobius in shock. It didn’t make sense, but she wasn’t stupid. She could tell he was the cause of the fire.
“Ending this,” he replied, and moved on to engulf the other bank of controls in flames. Explosions rumbled through the walls, shaking the floor beneath their feet.
B-15 flipped open her TemPad and saw dozens of messages reporting casualties, mostly burns, as the various wings of the TVA’s central hub exploded. Even the foundations were losing structural integrity.
“It’s all burning,” she murmured.
Horror gripped her heart, but she knew what she had to do. Leaping over a line of flame that licked at her boots, she ran to where Ouroboros and Casey leaned heavily against each other. She opened a Time Door and pushed them through, shouting evacuation orders into her TemPad. With a last, bewildered look at Mobius, she followed them through.
The door blinked closed, leaving Mobius alone.
The computer on the console burst, showering the floor in glass where they’d just been standing, and sparks snapped up from severed wires.
Thanks for the spark, he’d said, and Loki’d smiled, his eyes going soft with affection.
An expression Mobius would never see again.
It had been a true smile, not one of Loki’s charming smiles calculated to please and used to manipulate his way into a million different situations. With Mobius he’d been painfully honest, and even if Mobius hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, Loki had shown him the truth.
That everyone here was a variant, stolen cruelly from their lives and not given the chance to mourn, their memories wiped clean to be given a new purpose.
Grief poured out of him billowing red and orange, black greasy smoke rising from the machinery filling the room and obscuring his view of the damaged Loom.
He walked away.
His hands didn’t tremble as his touch painted flames along the walls of the corridor back to central command, burning each cheerfully threatening poster that revealed the TVA for what it was—a prison—into mere smudges of carbon.
The automat was empty of people, but its wall of lurid green pie in tiny glass compartments seemed to mock him. No sweet dessert could fill the yawning cavern of pain in his chest now, and he launched a sphere of flame that consumed the room in a single burst. The drink dispenser met the same fate, soup and cocoa alike boiling away under the same ruthless blaze.
Mobius tasted ash on his tongue.
Then the war room, with its long table and its tape players for playback of recorded evidence, was reduced to cinders with a wave of his hand.
Finally, it almost felt like he was doing something.
If he destroyed it all, no one else would have to feel like this. No one else would have their lives ripped away, left broken and empty and alone amidst the crumbling lies they’d been told for unknown centuries about their entire existence.
He paused in the atrium to look up at the murals—the threat of multiversal war, the bringing of peace, the benevolent guidance of the Timekeepers. All lies. Maybe none of it had been real. It was all just someone’s play for control.
A cruel, elaborate trick, conjured by the weak to inspire fear.
He turned away, the glowing walls slumping as tiles melted into shapeless glass.
The corridor off of which the Time Theaters branched was littered with debris, a mess of scorched ceiling tiles, blackened wall panels, and the occasional unmoving body of those who hadn’t escaped in time.
They’re better off now, he thought bitterly. They’ll never have to suffer knowing their whole life has been a lie. They’ll never have to know what they lost.
Finally, he reached the courtroom, its heavy double doors conveniently wedged open.
He walked inside, leaving it untouched for the moment, and recalled the last time he’d been here. His friend, sitting Judge Renslayer, a title she’d earned through hard work and persistence. He’d been so proud of her. But she’d lied to him. Everything she’d ever said—their entire friendship—had been a lie.
And this is where he’d seen Loki for the first time. He’d said he had an idea of what Loki was capable of, and had seen his haughty, impatient demeanor for what it was.
Fear. Desperation.
But he was also so brave. Loki was the most—
Mobius’ vision swam, and he blinked hard.
“Mobius?” A soft echo, ringing out from somewhere in the distance.
Mobius frowned and shook his head. Now he was imagining things. Smoke curled in through the doorway, the glow of flame brightening the brass fixtures as it spread closer.
There was a crash in the distance, and Mobius felt a pang of aching satisfaction. The TVA was finally collapsing, and he was going to watch it all. He took a seat.
He’d wait for the end here. He had nowhere else to go.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, but Mobius sat, unmoving. If anyone that was left could get out, he’d let them.
The bench under him began to blister and crack, the heat radiating from his whole body taking its steady toll.
He heard it again.
“Mobius!”
A desperate shout, followed by the sound of more heavy thuds as walls collapsed in the distance.
The voice, though, sounded like Loki. Mobius’ chest squeezed again in agony, and he slowly rose to his feet.
If he was going to have to listen to these ghostly echoes as he waited for the end, the constant reminder of everything he’d lost—well, he might as well hurry things along. He wasn’t afraid anymore.
Raising both hands he gazed around the room, tiny bursts of flame blossoming where he pointed. Wood paneling splintered and warped at his will, and he wondered if this is what it felt like for Loki to use his magic.
The thought made him angry. Now he’d never know.
“Mobius!” The voice was louder now, and achingly familiar. This must be the TVA’s last, desperate trick. Some kind of self-preservation mechanism put in place in case they ever found out the truth and started an uprising.
Well, it wouldn’t work.
Not even when Loki appeared in the doorway, haloed in orange flame and black smoke, looking just as disheveled as he had in the Void.
That voice, saying his name again so tenderly it cut right to his core.
It must be using his memories against him somehow. He wondered bitterly who had created something so awful as to use his own humanity, his own feelings, against him.
Miss Minutes? She’d abandoned them, after all.
Mobius gritted his teeth and fanned the flames higher.
Loki hurried inside.
“Mobius, are you alright? What happened?”
“Don’t talk to me,” Mobius gritted out, trying to keep the pain and desperation he felt out of his words.
Loki’s eyes widened, and he froze in place.
“Let me help you, it’s—” he paused to cough, to clear his throat from the smoke. “It’s not safe here anymore.”
“I know,” Mobius said simply, setting his hands on his hips and turning to him fully.
Loki gasped in surprise but took a few steps closer, holding his arms out beseechingly.
“Mobius, this isn’t you. I don’t…” he paused, as if weighing his words. “I don’t know what happened, but we can fix this.”
“No!” Mobius shouted, the flames leaping up around him as his eyes flashed with red hot fury. “There’s no fixing anything here!”
Loki glanced around, grimacing at the absolute destruction of actively burning wood and bubbling plastic. “Well, maybe not here. We can find somewhere new to—”
“I promised I’d burn this place to the ground,” Mobius muttered, his voice shaky. “I promised him. And I’m going to.”
He looked away from Loki, palms glowing orange as flames gathered there.
Loki held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Okay, okay! We can burn it down. But Mobius, this isn’t you.”
“This is me! This is all I have left!” Mobius shouted, eyes wild. “The TVA took everything from me. From everyone! Our lives, our families, our—our friends… my…”
He was telling this, this… defense mechanism too much. It wasn’t real, and he was wasting time when he could be finishing what he’d started. He waved a hand, and the bench beside him burst into flames.
Loki frowned, stepping even closer. They were only a few feet apart now, and the glow of Mobius’ flame was bright against his face and shone golden in his hair.
“I know,” Loki said, his voice low and soothing, approaching him as if he were a wounded animal. “We’re variants. And do you remember who told you that?”
Mobius glared, annoyed at being interrupted by a computer program, a holoprojection, whatever this was.
“Loki told me that,” he hissed. “And now he’s dead. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the rest of this down with me.”
“What?” Loki scoffed.
“Don’t try and stop me.”
“I’m not dead,” Loki said. “I’m right here.”
“Don’t lie to me! I saw it!” Mobius shouted, his voice creaking with a repressed sob. “Everything exploded, all those timelines are gone, and there was nothing we could do to stop it!”
He balled his hands into fists, and the already blazing heat of the room increased until the air was shimmering. Beams in the ceiling began to creak and glow. It would all end soon enough.
Loki’s face blanched, his fingers twitching to reach out.
“Mobius. Please, stop this. Come with me.”
“I can’t. There’s nowhere left to go.” Mobius closed his eyes, resigned.
Loki huffed an exasperated sigh. “Yes there is. Anywhere but here. I can get us out, I just need you to trust me.”
He reached out to grab Mobius’ wrist, fingers closing around superheated skin, but was thrown back with a pained shout as a defensive burst of flame shot out from Mobius’ body.
Mobius’ eyes snapped open.
Loki?
He’s alive?
Hope flared back to life, extinguishing the burning fury surging through him in an instant. Reality caught up with him when he looked down at Loki’s unmoving body.
The color drained from his face.
“Loki?” he asked, voice shaky.
What have I done?
Mobius’ world collapsed again. His eyes cooled to his usual soft blue, his brows furrowing with shock and worry, and then—Loki shifted. He was alive.
Mobius staggered forward to help him up, to make sure he was okay—but he stopped in his tracks.
The air around his body still shimmered with heat, and everything he touched burned. If he touched Loki now, it could kill him. His body shook with tension, his hands opening and closing uselessly at his sides. All he wanted to do was scoop Loki into a hug, to hold him tight and know that he was safe and alive.
But he couldn’t. Guilt welled up in his heart like smoke, threatening to suffocate him.
I’ve hurt him.
Mobius sobbed brokenly, sinking to his knees beside Loki, unable to touch him for fear of hurting him again.
Loki groaned, rolling onto his side, one arm clutching his chest with pain. His shirt was partly burnt away, the skin beneath red and beginning to blister.
He’s spent his whole life being hurt, being made to feel like he’s not enough. He grew up thinking he was a monster, but he’s not.
It’s me.
I did all this.
I’m the monster.
“…I’m so sorry.”
Loki looked up at the sound of his voice. He rolled onto his knees and sat up, grimacing as the burned skin across his chest tugged painfully. After a moment, he managed to force his lips up into a smile.
“Hey.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mobius repeated, his eyes brimming with tears that hissed into steam the instant they began to fall.
“It happens.”
Loki reached out a hand, but stopped when Mobius flinched back.
“Please, don’t.”
Mobius clenched his hands into fists against the impulse to reach out.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Loki scoffed. “You won’t.”
“I already have, Loki,” he sighed, voice mournful. “Look at you.”
“What, this?” he glanced down at the red burn on his chest, already starting to fade to pink. Whatever had prevented magic from working here certainly wasn’t operating now. “I’ve had worse.”
“I did that to you. I never wanted to—”
Loki reached out again, this time too fast for Mobius to move away. A loud hiss filled the air, louder even than the flames still crackling all around them.
A cool, pale blue hand covered his own, even paler lines and ridges tracing the knuckles in a lovely filigree.
Mobius could only stare down at it in disbelief. That Loki would willingly reveal the form he was raised to loathe, the fact that he trusted him even now not to lash out again… and beyond that, that he was alive and here and holding his hand—
“I wasn’t expecting it the first time,” Loki said simply, offering a soft, hopeful smile.
That made everything so much worse.
Loki had trusted him not to lash out, and he’d done it anyway. He’d let himself be vulnerable, and…
“I lost control,” Mobius choked out.
“Hey,” Loki said, reaching up to stroke a thumb over Mobius’ cheekbone, cooling the way for a liquid tear to fall. “It happens.”
He moved his hands slowly, pressing icy touches to Mobius’ knee, to his shoulder, to his face… and Mobius broke.
He sobbed, turning into Loki’s palm and pressing his burning face against icy blue skin. Every single touch soothed something deep within him, cooling the molten shell his anger had left behind.
“I’m here.” Loki squeezed his hand.
“Gods, I missed you.”
“I can tell,” Loki said, the smirk obvious in his voice. “And I am incredibly flattered, but why don’t we get out of here? It seems that we both have a few things to catch up on.”
Mobius chuckled wetly. “Leave it to you to make the understatement of the century. But where can we go?”
“Muspelheim?” Loki teased, glancing around them at the burning wreckage. “Maybe that’s where you’re really from.”
“Doesn’t really explain the jet skis.” Mobius huffed a weak laugh and shook his head. “But sure. Lead the way.”
Loki got to his feet and pulled Mobius up, wincing at his rapidly-fading wounds.
Another pang of guilt squeezed at his heart, and Mobius opened his mouth to apologize again—but Loki silenced him with a kiss. It started as a gentle brush of lips, just enough to stop him from spiraling into oblivion.
Mobius surged forward, unable to stop himself from deepening it, licking into the icy bliss of Loki’s mouth. He needed it like breathing, each moment of connection more overwhelming than the last. Each press of lips was sweeter than any pie, any dessert Mobius might formerly have found to soothe himself. He wanted to drown in it.
A steel beam crashed to the ground beside them in a shower of molten sparks, and they pulled away, breathless.
With a final squeeze to Mobius’ hand, Loki shot him a genuine smile.
“We’ll figure it out. Together.”