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Soft, quiet temptation. A thump in Mobius’ heart, a warmth in his cheeks, a twitch of his finger. It leaks from his aorta, a neverending desire, and threatens to influence every decision he makes.
Is he falling? Has he fallen already? (He knows the answer to that.) So many variations of the same face, but it’s this shade of blue that lingers in his memory. He’s always looking for his eyes; he sees the sky in them. Sees the ocean. Sees the cosmic connection between the stars and the sea and thinks, I want you to pull me in. I want to be tied to you forever.
Mobius knows Loki. All that he was and all that he could have been. He knows how he ticks, knows how he suffers, knows how he carries it all on his shoulders and how he might collapse beneath the weight.
Give it to me, he tells him, but never with his words. Give it to me, when he squeezes Loki’s waist. I’ll hold it for you, when he finds his back flush against Loki’s chest. I’ll borrow it as long as you need until you’re ready for it again. Lean on me, he whispers, though his lips never part. Lean on me.
Fingers on his side, clenching around his arm, ghosting his back. He puts his hands on Loki constantly, always searching for a way to keep him close, always wishing he could pull him closer. Loki is more than capable of taking care of himself. He is a God, after all, no matter how often Mobius forgets. And still, he cannot help it. He yearns to protect him. Can he reach into his chest and hollow out a hole in his heart where Loki can stay? Can he protect him there, away from prying eyes and hands that mean to do harm?
Can Loki, if Mobius tries hard enough, hear how his heart beats in tune with his own?
It hadn’t always been that way, Mobius is sure. His heart is his own, it does not beat in Loki’s name. (Although, if it did, it would not be a complete surprise.) But if the two of them were in a room alone in complete silence, could they find that their hearts beat in time with one another?
He’s hopeless. He’s completely hopeless. And yet he doesn’t mind it, the way his head goes fuzzy, sometimes, when Loki tilts his head at him, or the way his palms get sweaty when Loki’s foot taps against his beneath the table, or the way he can’t take his eyes off him, off his eyes or his lips or his hair or his arms, or the way he hears Loki’s voice in everything, has turned around countless times thinking he’s heard the familiar call of his name when it was just the shutter of air in a vent.
Perhaps it only makes sense, that after a thousand lifetimes of studying a thousand Lokis, he is bound to fall in love. Can he know him, inside and out, and not love everything he finds? Every new bit of information, cataloged and put away, a thousand times, over and over? Is there a Loki out there somewhere he couldn’t have been captivated by?
Could Mobius love Loki in every instance that they find each other across the universe? Does this love transcend his mind, his soul, the flesh and blood of his pumping heart? Does it pour into the stars? Has it traveled the universe, woven into every timeline there is?
Probably not. Mobius is just a man, and Loki is just a God. But he wonders, as the room fills with blinding light, as his eyes water and his heart races and all he can look at is the white light–his encroaching demise–while he’s frozen to the ground and terrified and thinking only of death until he looks at Loki, who is frozen just the same, who looks out at their demise with him,
Will I ever see you again?
And then, a fierce, burning pain, from his toes to the hairs on his head, a furious spread of agony that compares to nothing he’s ever felt before. Being pruned had not even felt like this, like every atom was being plucked from him one at a time, like the universe was tearing him apart and dispersing him as it pleased.
I hope I see you again.
When it bursts, the Temporal Loom consumes everything in its path. All matter above and below and around it. Nothing that stands in its way lives to tell the tale. Not in this time. But perhaps in another.
Mobius dies. He dies, over and over. At first, it’s the same white-hot pain, the same fear in his chest, the same tears in his eyes, the same frozen stance, the same thump of his heart when he looks at Loki. Then it’s he who goes out to try to fix the Loom, and this death is different. It’s slower than the blast, the way he steps out and is stripped apart. The radiation unravels him, pulls him apart like he is a stick of licorice, pulled in and consumed piece-by-piece by the meeting of space and time. One thing stays consistent, regardless of the circumstances. Each time he dies, he does not remember the last time he died.
The universe does.
His atoms get pulled in between the dark strings of matter that make up the universe, the invisible particles that make up all that is, was, and ever will be. They scatter throughout all of everything and get caught between strands of nothing. The universe remembers where every atom lands, where every bit of Mobius that ever was travels throughout.
Time, and its association with the universe, seems to be a fickle thing. A billion timelines wrapped up and held together tightly that all exist within the same universe. A moment in history happening simultaneously as a moment in the future. The ability to hop between them at will, if one can pull themselves into time, or perhaps pull time toward–or away–from them, pull all the atoms to where they need to be, is a possible thing.
And, where there is something to take there is something to give.
If a person can travel through time and space, then time and space can spit a person out. The ability of time and space to coincide–as they often do–and find all of a person’s atoms, piece them all back together, and return them whence they came is a possible thing.
It is a possible thing, Mobius comes to find when he steps into the TVA and remembers every time he has ever died. Remembers being disintegrated. Remembers being dismantled. Remembers the fear and the pain and the helplessness and the confusion and the anger and the everything. Everything.
He looks around the room, at everyone around him, who are all alive. Alive. O.B. and Casey are near the temporal aura scanner, talking to each other about something in the guidebook that Mobius probably doesn’t know anything about. Sylvie is standing near the glass, looking out at the Loom, hands behind her back. B-15 is standing a little ways away from her, watching her. Timely is pacing up and down the room, murmuring numbers and calculations and phrases that Mobius doesn’t recognize beneath his breath. Then Mobius turns away from all of them and looks for Loki, who is not far away. He is sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, gazing out at the Loom. He looks exhausted. He probably shouldn’t look exhausted, because if Mobius remembers what he’d told him in nearly every single loop of this scenario that he has lived, time has not passed. And yet, he looks tired like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Like he has tried to save all of existence and failed countless times.
“Loki,” he calls for him, and his voice cracks in the middle of his name. He clears his throat, and takes a tentative step toward Loki, as though everything around him will collapse if he is not careful. Loki does not move from where he sits, but he picks his head up and looks toward Mobius. His exhausted look turns sad.
“Mobius. I don’t have time to explain.” His eyes flicker over him, and then they focus back on the Loom. “You’ll have to follow my instructions to a tee and hope it works this time.”
“Loki,” Mobius shakes his head, and he finds his footing, then makes his way toward the God who, quite frankly, looks a little pathetic, like a wet cat on the floor where he sits, like he has been dumped on the side of the road and has nowhere to turn to, now. “Loki, I–”
“I don’t have time, Mobius,” Loki looks at him again. “That’s the whole problem. I don’t have time. I can’t figure out what I have to do. I can’t solve this. I keep trying, Mobius, and I keep failing. It’s–” he laughs, and it’s bitter, and it’s cold, and it makes Mobius fall to his knees in front of Loki. “It’s as though this is a punishment, and that is what it feels like, sincerely, I–”
“Loki,” Mobius nearly shouts. He grabs Loki’s face in between his hands, feels his cool skin beneath his fingertips, feels how real and alive he is. The relief that fills his body is like none he’s ever felt.
Loki’s eyes are wide from where they stare at Mobius between his hands, and his eyebrows are doing that thing they do when he’s confused, furrowed and slanted up in the middle, as though they are pointing to the other. His eyes dart back and forth between each of Mobius’ and he reaches up, hesitantly, slowly, with both of his hands to rest on Mobius’ elbows. He parts his lips, presumably to speak, but Mobius beats him to it.
“I remember,” he rushes out, and Loki’s eyes, which are already impossibly wide, somehow manage to get wider. He looks frantic, now, and the hands that were on his elbows come up to his shoulders before one moves even further up and settles on Mobius’ cheek.
“What do you–” he sputters, eyes raking up and down his face, “What do you mean you remember?”
“I mean I remember, Loki,” he says and leans back a little, but not far enough for Loki’s hands to fall. “I mean I remember everything.”
“That’s not possible.” Loki shakes his head. “That’s not possible. I have gone–I have gone through this so many times I’ve lost count, Mobius, and every time I am the only one who–well, I am the only one who can travel so I am the only one who can remember.”
“I remember, Loki,” he tells him, then leans his head forward. “I remember every single instance of this. I remember how many times you have tried to stop the Loom from exploding and I remember how many different plans you have come up with and I remember every time I have–” he nearly chokes on the words, but he pushes through it, “every time I have died. Every time we all have.”
Loki’s face falls. The hand on his shoulder squeezes him gently and the thumb on his cheek moves softly up and down. Mobius isn’t sure if Loki even knows he’s doing it, but he certainly doesn’t mind. “Mobius, I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, a small movement. “I’m so sorry.”
“Well,” Mobius shrugs, “you’re not the one who gave me all my memories back, are you?”
Loki slides his hand up Mobius’ face to run through his hair, and then he reaches up with his other hand to cup the other side. He slightly turns Mobius’ head between his hands and peers at each side of it as though he’s looking for something. “No,” he murmurs after a moment and takes his hand off of him. Mobius mourns his touch as soon as it’s gone. “I don’t know how you remember.”
“Even if you had,” he sighs, then gets off his knees to sit himself next to Loki, “I wouldn’t mind. Remembering every time I’ve died, well, that may take some time to work through. Might have to visit the TVA’s shrink, but–”
“The TVA has a… shrink?”
“A therapist. You know.”
“I see.”
“Anyway. I’m glad I’m here,” he tells him, and he means it. The memories running rampant in his head are not pleasant. He doesn’t know how many times they’ve all failed. But Loki isn’t doing this alone anymore, and that matters to him. He knocks his knee into Loki’s own and finds himself smiling when Loki gently knocks it back. “It means you don’t have to deal with this on your own anymore.”
Loki looks down at the floor, hair obscuring his face. “I am at my wit’s end, Mobius. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“Well, I am. And it’ll be fine. I’m here now. We can figure this out together.”
He looks at him again.
His hair is still in his face.
Mobius’ fingers itch with the temptation to brush it out of the way.
All of everything is ending–has ended, several times, technically–and the heart in his chest still cannot think rationally. There may be a time for that when they’ve saved everything. There may be a time when Mobius can brush Loki’s hair behind his ear, press his lips to his, and whisper into his ear that he loves him. There may also never be a time when that can happen.
Regardless, this moment is certainly not that time.
“Do you think so?”
“Well,” Mobius says, grabbing Loki’s shoulder to squeeze it, “we have to, right? Eventually. It’s a statistical impossibility that we will never solve this problem.”
Loki smiles. It’s small, barely there, but he smiles, and it makes Mobius’ heart swell. And then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone. He looks out at the Loom again, frowning.
“What if we fail?”
“I hate to say it, but I think we will a few times. Gotta keep our expectations realistic.”
“No, Mobius.” His voice has dropped to a whisper. “What if we fail this time, and the next time I come back… you’ve forgotten again? What if this,” he reaches up, taps Mobius on the head with his finger once, twice, “is a fluke?”
Mobius blinks.
“I…” he searches for an answer. What if he doesn’t remember the next time? What if he’s here for Loki for this moment, only to forget it in the next? He doesn’t know why he remembers. He hadn’t done anything different in the previous instance that he hadn’t done in nearly every single other instance. How is he supposed to help Loki figure this out if he doesn’t remember what he remembers now? “I don’t know.”
They fall into silence for a few moments.
O.B. is talking loudly, now, to everyone in the room. Mobius hasn’t heard any of what he’s been saying. When he tunes in, he’s saying, “Guys, we’re running out of time here! Hello?”
Mobius nudges Loki.
“I think we’re needed.”
“I’m tired, Mobius.”
Mobius leans forward and puts himself in Loki’s line of sight. When his eyes catch the God’s, he smiles at him. “I know. And I’m sorry.” He moves his hand off Loki’s shoulder, brings it down to one of his hands, and tries not to think too hard about it before he squeezes it. “But we have to keep trying.”
Loki looks down at their hands. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you forget everything in the next one.”
“You’ll keep going anyway because that’s who you are.”
“Am I?”
“You are.”
He looks up at him.
“I need you to remember this. Everything. I know that’s selfish. I know that’s not fair. I know that–”
“I will try my best,” Mobius assures him. “I don’t plan on forgetting. But if I do, I know you’ll figure it out. And then, when you’ve saved the day,” he grabs Loki’s other hand, and then squeezes them both before he hauls him up, “you can tell me all about it.”
Loki looks down at him.
Mobius looks up at him.
His heart thumps in his chest.
“Okay,” Loki says. “Let’s figure this out.”
Loki squeezes his hands back before he drops them, and the two of them make their way to O.B.
“Any new ideas?” Mobius asks him, and Loki sighs.
“Not yet.”
Mobius taps on the head of the temporal aura scanner, then looks out at the Loom, which is crackling and tearing apart at the seams. Bursts of radiation fly at them, colliding with the windows. He swallows his fear and tries his best to put on a brave face. “Not to worry. We’ll figure it out.”
Four minutes later–for the eighty-ninth time–Mobius dies.
Four minutes later–for the second time–Mobius remembers.
It turns out if someone knows they’re going to die, and then they do, and then they wake up from being dead, well. That’s worse than dying and not remembering it ever happened.
One more attempt. Two more attempts. Three more attempts. Five more attempts. Ten more attempts. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. Over and over and over, even with Mobius at Loki’s side, the two of them cannot figure out how to stop the Loom from exploding and incinerating everyone and everything.
Timely goes out, he dies. O.B. goes out, he dies. Casey, dies. B-15, dies. Sylvie, dies. Mobius dies. Loki dies. (Mobius has his back turned away from the Loom every time Loki goes out.)
No matter what they do–no matter what stays the same, no matter what they change–everyone who goes out dies. They even try, once, to have all of them go out. (They all die.) After that, they try to get everyone to stay inside. (They all die.)
Once, in a particular fit of desperation, Mobius watches Loki run through the halls to find Brad. Then he shoves him in a suit and pushes him out the door.
Brad dies.
Mobius is losing steam. Losing hope. He and Loki being able to communicate with each other might be the only thing preventing either of them from going insane. If he’d had to go through all of this and not a single person ever remembered, he might have just given up. He’s not sure how Loki didn’t. He’s so persistent. He has so much love inside of him. He is so much more than he thinks he is.
However he ended up here, even in as drastic a situation as this, Mobius will always be grateful.
Eventually, after countless more failures, Mobius and Loki take a loop to just… talk.
The two of them stand in front of the windows, looking out at the Loom. The chatter of the others surrounds them, but Mobius isn’t tuned in. He’s probably heard it before. Their conversations aren’t always the same–they change depending on what Loki and Mobius tell them, what the plan is–but there’s often overlap. He’ll have their words stuck in his head for a while.
There’s a loud creak, and the room shakes beneath their feet as another blast of radiation whirls toward them.
Mobius puts a hand on Loki’s shoulder to stabilize himself, and Loki looks toward him.
“What are we missing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Every time, the radiation is too strong.” He looks back at the Loom. “How are we supposed to fix the Loom if none of us can make it through the radiation?”
Mobius turns around and leans his back against the windows. He watches O.B. gesticulate wildly as he explains something to Timely, Casey peering over his shoulder at the multiplier in Timely’s hands.
“Can we fix the radiation?”
“I don’t think so,” Loki huffs. “I asked O.B. a few times, remember? The radiation is worse because the Loom is so far gone. If we had fixed the Loom earlier, the radiation wouldn’t have gotten so bad.”
“Can you go back? To earlier than this?”
Loki shrugs. “I could. But I…” He gets a look on his face, a sort of mix between uncertainty and apprehension. “I don’t think… that would work.”
“You don’t think it would work?”
Loki takes his eyes off the Loom to look at Mobius. He gestures toward the others. “I think that we’re meant to solve it here. All of us in this room.” Mobius watches as Loki’s gaze sweeps over every other person in the room. He looks fond. “The control I’ve reached over my time slipping… every time I slipped, after the first blast, it was to one of you.”
“One of us?”
Loki looks at him. There’s a beat or two before he speaks. “On the timeline.”
Mobius squints at him. He tilts his head. “The timeline?”
“Yes. Before Casey was Casey, before O.B. was O.B.” He frowns. “Before you were you.”
Before Mobius was Mobius.
He hadn’t wanted to know his life on the timeline. Was terrified it would be better than the life he has here, the life he enjoys so much with the people who mean the most to him. He can walk away from a life where he is miserable. Can he walk away from a life where he’s happier than he is now?
Can he walk away from a life–the only life–that has Loki beside him?
“Mobius, I–”
“I don’t want to know,” he says. “I don’t.”
“Not even from me? You don’t have to go see it. I can tell you what it was like.”
“I don’t want to know, Loki.”
“Mobius, why?”
Mobius pushes himself off the window and starts to walk away from Loki, chest tight. He doesn’t want to have this conversation again. He breezes past O.B., who calls out his name when he walks out and down the hallway, but he ignores it. He ignores the sound of Loki’s footsteps behind him.
“We’ve already had this conversation,” he tells him, eyes trained forward. He takes a random turn left, eyes squinting with the flickering lights of the TVA. “I don’t want to talk about it again.”
“But I don’t understand,” Loki tells him, and he’s closer to him now than he was before. “This life, it’s yours. It was, is, could have been, whatever. It’s you.”
“It’s not me.” Mobius keeps his eyes trained forward even when Loki falls into step beside him. “I’m right here. Right now. This is my life and I like it. I don’t need–I don’t want–anything other than this, Loki.”
“There’s not even the smallest part of you that wants to see what it was like?”
Why does Loki keep pushing? How many times does he have to tell him he doesn’t care? Why isn’t this enough for him? Why can’t it be enough for him? The discomfort in his chest quickly turns on itself, channeling into anger.
“No.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Mobius spins around and grabs him by his lapels. The words are tumbling out of him before he can even think to shut up. “I’m afraid of losing you, Loki. I know your life. I have seen it play out a thousand times. You know who isn’t in it? You know who never shows up? Me. If I’m not in your life, then you can’t be in mine. And I like this. I like our friends. I like you. I like you too much to live without you. Not when I know what it’s like, to have you here.”
Loki stares at him, stunned into silence.
“There,” he says, and his fingers are still tight around Loki’s lapels, palms sweaty against the cotton. “There’s your answer. I don’t want to know my life on the timeline because if it’s better, I might want to leave the TVA. And I don’t want to want to leave the TVA because I don’t want to leave you.”
Mobius swallows around the lump in his throat.
“I can’t leave you.”
Loki’s eyes are bouncing all around his face. His lips are parted slightly, eyebrows furrowed. He looks at Mobius like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Like there’s something to behold. Like…
Mobius’ eyes widen.
Like he always looks at him.
A hand on his cheek, suddenly, and Loki’s lips are parting to speak. He watches his Adam’s apple bob with the movement, as he takes in a deep breath. A soft, broken noise. Mobius’ hands are still on Loki’s jacket. He’d move them if he wasn’t frozen under Loki’s gaze.
“Mobius… I–”
A loud, thundering roar. The halls creak. The floor trembles beneath them. Blue eyes staring into his own. Blue eyes that dip down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Blue eyes that crease at the corners, overwhelmed with emotion. Blue eyes that he can’t ever forget. Blue, blue, blue.
And then–
White.
And then, again–
Nothing.
When Mobius blinks his eyes open again, he is in a different spot than he normally is upon returning. Instead of looking out at the Loom, there is a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed God staring right back at him. A hand still on his cheek. His own still on those lapels.
When he looks around, for just a moment, he finds that the room they are in is… slowly rebuilding itself around them. Brown, yellow, orange strands pull themselves together and weave themselves into the walls and the floor, flickering into existence as the world around them pieces itself back together. And then he looks back at Loki, and there’s a tear running down his cheek.
Before Mobius can say a word, to put into words his complete and utter confusion, Loki’s other hand comes up to his other cheek before it cards through Mobius’ hair. All the words disappear on Mobius’ tongue.
Loki speaks, then, voice quiet. Fragile, even. As though the world around them will start splitting back apart if he talks too loudly. “You’d choose me?” He asks, and his eyes search Mobius’ face again, as though he will find the answer there. “Over your life on the timeline?”
He answers him before he even has time to think about what he might say.
“Always.”
It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise as it does, when Loki leans in and presses their lips together, but it does. So much so, in fact, that he forgets to respond for a moment. He may as well have whiplash from the last two minutes–that talk, and then dying, and then coming back to in Loki’s arms with the world split apart around them. But then he focuses on how Loki’s lips feel against his own. Soft. Tentative. A little cold.
He snaps out of his stupor and kisses Loki back.
Mobius can’t tell if he’s doing it right. He probably kissed someone back on the timeline, once or twice, but his memories of that life are all gone. There’s no recollection of ever doing this before. And yet, what the mind forgets, the body remembers. He pulls him closer, lips finding each other’s, gentle but desperate. The hands on his lapels slide up Loki’s body, one coming to cup his cheek and the other resting on the nape of his neck.
Mobius stumbles, trips between their feet as he chases Loki’s lips. The God falls against the wall and Mobius adjusts, hand settling between his collarbones. His thumb cards over Loki’s neck and the hand in Mobius’ hair slides down, down past his shoulders and his back to settle at his waist. Loki’s fingers grip him so tight he thinks he might leave a mark behind, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care. Not when he holds him like this, like someone might come to take him away, like this moment is all they have.
Mobius pulls away for a second to breathe and doesn’t miss the way Loki follows his movement, leans forward to kiss him again. It brings a smile to his face, makes it hard to kiss him with the way it lifts his lips. He’s smiling into it, can’t manage to stomp it down with the surge of emotion in his chest. He’s so happy his heart could burst. He thinks it might.
A loud whir and a shaking to the walls. The electricity in the TVA fails, lights flickering, floor trembling. The force of it knocks them apart, Mobius’ head falling into Loki’s neck. He can feel the heat of his breath against his ear, quick and shallow, as fingertips glide through his hair. Mobius takes a deep breath himself, head spinning with the taste of Loki still on his lips. He leaves a kiss there, softly against the skin of Loki’s neck, and tries to hide his smile when he feels how Loki’s breath stutters with the press of his lips.
“We still have a world to save, you know,” Loki says, and Mobius closes his eyes. He tries to ground himself, to slow down the heart that is racing beneath his ribs. He feels warm here, between Loki’s arms. He tries to savor it while he can.
Eventually, he pulls himself off and looks at Loki. He’s flushed, eyes crinkled with a smile, hair falling in his face. The sight of it alone makes Mobius smile, makes his heart thump, makes his stomach feel funny. It’s ridiculous, the effect Loki has on him. He knows he’s been in love with him for a while. But this–the possibility that Loki feels the same way, too–is nearly too much for him to reconcile with.
Almost.
“We do,” he says, eventually, when he can find his voice again, when he is able to pull his eyes off Loki and remember the gravity of the situation they’re in. He touches the wall, brown wood cold beneath his fingertips, and looks around. “Do you know how we got here?” He asks. “Did you…?”
“I did,” Loki says, and he smooths his hair back, adjusts his jacket where it has started to slide off his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I knew I’d travel, but I didn’t know if I could take you with me.” He looks around, himself, then tilts his head. “Did you see it too?”
“See what?” Mobius asks. “All the… noodle… stuff?”
“Yes,” he says. “Did I do that?”
“Did you do that?” Mobius moves his jacket out of the way and puts his hands on his hips. “How would I know?”
Loki gives him a look through narrowed eyes, in a way that reads to Mobius as a less-than-genuine thanks for the help before he takes a few steps away from him. He walks slowly and rakes his eyes over everything before he knocks against the wood. Nothing happens. Mobius watches in confusion. “Every time I travel, I just… end up there. This,” he says, then gestures to the hallway they stand in, “has never happened before.”
“What? Everything putting itself together?”
“Yes.” He nods. “The only thing I’ve seen similar to it is the world–or people–being taken apart.”
“Not as cool,” Mobius frowns. Then he asks, “Like when someone steps onto the gateway?”
“Exactly. It’s the opposite of that.”
Mobius stands there, content to look at Loki as he thinks. He considers what he’s told him. Every time Loki travels, he timeslips, in a way, except he has control over it. He goes where he needs to be. He goes to the people he needs to be with. But if he’s already where he needs to be, then…
“Maybe you brought this to you, instead of you to it,” Mobius says. “Instead of traveling to somewhere you needed to be, you brought this place back to you. We died, right? But instead of being back near the Loom, we ended up back here. Because…”
“Because I needed you,” Loki finishes for him. Mobius’ heart stammers. It might really give out, he thinks, if Loki keeps saying things like that to him. “I needed you and I both to stay right here so I could finish our conversation.” He lifts his hands, both of them hovering by his hips, fingers splayed as he slowly spins around to look at the room. The light above him flickers, drenching Loki in warm, yellow lighting. He seems completely in his element here, working with Mobius to figure out what’s happened. He can practically hear the gears turning in Loki’s head.
It’s something to behold.
“Mobius,” he says, after a few moments of quiet contemplation, “I’m going to try something.”
“Okay.” Mobius ignores the nervous feeling in his chest, the fear that something may go wrong. “I believe in you, but if you disappear in front of me I might kill you. Got it?”
Loki turns his head toward him, teeth showing with the smile he gives. Not for the first time and not for the last, Mobius’ head spins at how beautiful Loki is. “I won’t. Probably. But I do understand what you must do if it happens.”
Loki’s hands reach up, twist toward the ceiling, and then–as though he is grabbing something Mobius cannot see–begin to pull. The light above him pulls itself apart almost immediately, weaving into strands. It loses its color the closer to Loki it gets, white-yellow turning into gold-green.
Each strand slips between Loki’s fingers and winds itself around them. He moves his hand around, and they follow it as though he leads them. It’s almost like a snake, or a million of them, rather, playing follow the leader. With every flick of Loki’s wrist, they follow. And then he turns his hands over, palms up to the ceiling. He unfurls his fingers–he lets go–and the strands unwind from him, slither back up, and reform in the ceiling once more.
Mobius isn’t sure what he’s witnessed. He isn’t sure what in the world Loki’s done, or how it works. He’s barely comprehending what’s happening at all. But that doesn’t matter, because Loki looks at him with wide, almost crazed eyes, and he throws his arms up in the air.
“I know what to do.”
It goes like this:
Loki runs toward Mobius, wraps one arm around him and says,
“This won’t be pleasant.”
And then he puts his other arm out, and after a moment or two, he understands what Loki means.
For what feels like the thousandth time, an excruciating bout of pain jolts Mobius’ entire being. His arm spasms, his neck twists, his leg may as well have been split in two. It lasts for about five seconds before the brown walls are replaced with white and blue, before the noise of flickering lights turns into chatter, before he and Loki fall to the floor on top of each other.
He rolls off of Loki, a quiet groan pushing past his lips as he holds his head. The worst of the pain is over, but the ghost of it lingers in all of his muscles. “Fuck.”
Loki gets up off the floor beside him, then offers his hand to Mobius.
He lays there for a second, doesn’t think he’s strong enough to even grab it.
He stares at Loki in quiet disbelief. How many times has he dusted himself off after he’s traveled? Mobius doesn’t think he can ever move again. Is Loki invincible? (Well, he knows the answer to that.)
“Does it feel like that every time?” He asks.
“More or less,” Loki shrugs, breathless. Then he moves his fingers, a come hither motion. “Come on.”
Mobius reaches for Loki’s hand, and the God pulls him up. When Mobius stumbles, still not fully recovered, Loki stabilizes him with a hand on his shoulder.
Loki’s clearly eager to get to his plan, whatever it is, but he takes a second to look at Mobius. “You alright?” He asks, lowering his head and quieting his voice so only he can hear. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but I thought it would be preferable over waiting to die again.”
Mobius looks down, where Loki’s hand is still holding his own, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. The pain in his body is dulling, slowly, but it’s still there and is making it hard to focus. Loki must notice it because he gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Mobius, are you with me?”
“I’m here.” Mobius looks at him again and finds a tenderness there that he isn’t sure he’s ever noticed before. It helps to slow down his racing heart and soothe some of the fear in his chest. Loki doesn’t say anything immediately, just looks at him with those eyebrows turning down, eyelids masking the blue of his eyes. He repeats himself. “I’m here, Loki. I’m alright.”
Loki scans his face for a second more before he accepts Mobius’ words. “Okay.” He lets go of Mobius’ hand, turns, and makes his way to where O.B. and Casey are talking. Mobius follows him, then settles in beside him, their shoulders nearly brushing when Loki stops.
“We’re almost ready here,” O.B. says to Loki, then gestures toward Timely. “Just need to scan his aura. Where did you go?”
“Had something to attend to,” Loki says, then looks at Timely. “Timely, put your head in there. Mobius, can you help him?”
Mobius is already walking toward Timely, hands reaching to pluck the glasses off his face. “Just put your head on in there,” He says and pats the man’s back. “Won’t hurt a bit.”
“Are you… are you sure? It’s not dangerous?” Timely looks at him, nervous. He’s seen that look on his face so many times. It’s a good thing he doesn’t remember. He’d been the first to die out on the gateway.
“Of course I’m sure. You’re a key player in fixing the Loom,” Mobius smiles. “We wouldn’t do anything to put you in danger.” It’s not not a lie, Mobius reasons with himself. They’d never sent Timely–or any of them, for that matter–out with the intention to die. It just happened–multiple times.
His words seem to console Timely, and he looks toward the scanner. “Okay. Okay,” He says, and then, slowly, cautiously, sticks his head in.
It only takes a moment before a voice fills the room.
Welcome, He Who Remains!
The bars lift off the window. “Can I come out?” Timely asks, before he pulls himself out. Mobius is there to hand him his glasses again and offers him what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “You did it. Told you it’d be fine.”
Mobius watches Timely’s eyes widen as he looks out toward the Loom. It had been frightening, seeing the amount of radiation blasting toward them the first time Mobius saw the Loom after the TVA went on lockdown. But now, when he glances toward it, there’s nothing there. It’s killed him before. It’ll probably kill him again.
He turns around to see what Loki is doing. Casey and O.B. are staring at him in astonishment as Loki weaves bits of the wall off and maneuvers them between his fingers before he returns them back to their rightful place. “I can do that, now. I can manipulate time, O.B., sort of, and now space. Sort of. What I need to know,” he says, flicking his head slightly as a strand of hair falls in his face, “is everything you know about the radiation.”
O.B. blinks once or twice, as though he’s processing what he’s just witnessed, but then he’s quicker to recover from this new information than Mobius had been. “Temporal radiation is a result of the Loom decaying.” He says and looks out toward it. “Like I said, it’s worse now than when Mobius went out. That’s because the Loom is more damaged now than when Mobius had gone out. The branches are overwhelming it, and it’s falling apart under the pressure. When that happens, it releases radiation.”
“Right,” Loki nods. “That makes sense. Is it particles of time, though? Particles of space? Particles of both?” Loki stands there for a moment, lips pulled down in a frown. “I need to know if it’s possible for me to manipulate it.”
Manipulate the radiation?
O.B. does not seem as shocked by this question as Mobius is. Instead, he seems intrigued. He looks toward Casey, and then toward Timely. “Let’s see. If we assume the radiation is small particles of time hurling throughout space, then in theory, you should be able to manipulate it.”
“But it’s different, isn’t it?” Casey asks. “Even if it’s still time, it’s decayed. And it’s–well. Smaller.”
Timely walks toward them, fingers tapping together as he nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “You’d… you’d need much more fin... finesse. It would be harder than your… time slipping.”
“But it’s possible,” Loki says, eyes darting between the three of them. “Theoretically.”
“If you can manipulate time, you can probably manipulate the radiation.” O.B. nods. “However, it might not help. I can’t be sure exactly what manipulating it entails. When you time slip, you are pulling yourself to another time. But if we inverse that… you’d be pulling time toward yourself.”
“Or away from myself,” Loki suggests and starts to pace, hands moving about as he talks through his thought process. “Maybe I’m not pulling myself to another time. Maybe I’m pulling time to myself. Or both, I suppose.”
“Is there a way to know for certain?” Mobius pipes up, eyeing O.B. and hoping he’s got an answer he’ll like.
“I’m not Loki,” he shrugs. “Unless I witness it myself, I can’t really understand what’s happening when he slips. Of course, I know the technicalities of it all, theoretically, but… I just can’t be sure.”
“O.B.” Loki walks toward him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “Are you willing to endure a pain like nothing you’ve ever felt before in the name of science?”
Mobius squints.
“Sure.” O.B. agrees like it’s nothing. Mobius frowns. O.B. has no idea what he’s signed up for.
“Great.”
Loki holds a hand out, pulls at the air and then, in a messed-up, twisted, disgusting flail of limbs and–was that a scream?–the two of them disappear.
Timely’s got his face turned away. Casey stares at where the two of them were a moment ago, a look of horror on his face.
“That was horrific,” Sylvie mutters from beside him, and Mobius nearly jumps in surprise at the sound of her voice.
Nearly.
“Feels as bad as it looks,” he huffs, rubbing his shoulder where it still aches. Sylvie looks at him, then, and he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. They’d had a good rapport, before all of this, but then she’d gone and shouted at him. It wasn’t very kind. It hadn’t been true, either. Mobius may not have gone to see his timeline yet, but that does not negate the responsibility he feels for the branches. He’s always cared.
Here he is, dying for them, a million times.
But then he looks at her a little closer. He thinks back on all of the loops they’d gone through. Thinks of how willingly Sylvie went out in quite a few of them. And then he figures he can move past it. Lokis aren’t good with feelings. He won’t take it personally.
“Listen,” he says, with the intent to bring up the topic of their pie-related discussion, but she cuts him off.
“Did you and Loki have a moment?”
His eyes widen and he sputters over his words. He decides to look away from her, looks at Casey and then the floor and then the Loom and then the ceiling and then his shoes. He dusts off his jacket, clears his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He remembers, then, that Loki and Sylvie have a… thing between them.
His eyes widen again, for a different reason this time, and he looks back at her in slight terror.
She’s smiling. It’s something that Mobius hasn’t seen on her all that often. It suits her well, but it catches him off guard.
“Sylvie, I’m not sure–” he tries to talk again, but is once more cut off by her.
“Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs. “I didn’t kiss him–”
“You kissed him?”
“–because I loved him. I knew he loved me. Or that he thought he did. It was just a tactic.” She takes a deep breath. “When this is all over, I’m going back to my timeline. I want to live my life. But I do care about Loki. I know it doesn’t look like it.”
Mobius processes what she’s telling him. He feels like his head is spinning as he tilts his head at her. “You’ve got… a funny way of showing it, for sure.”
“And Loki doesn’t?” She asks.
“Well…” He thinks of Loki’s fingers fixing his tie, his hand on his elbow, fingers brushing his, shoulders pressed together, and now–finally–the feel of soft, eager lips pressing into his own. He clears his throat and feels his face flush. “He’s better at it, now, I think.”
Sylvie’s eyebrows furrow and her lips turn in a look of mild disgust. It’s clear to him that she can tell where his head went. It’s not mean, though. She’s a bit stiff with her words, a bit awkward with how they come out. But she’s trying to talk to him genuinely, and he appreciates it.
“Right.” She says, then shakes her head. “Well. That’s good, then. Listen, I just…” she rubs at the back of her neck. “Take care of him. Will you? And let him be selfish,” she stresses. “He’s been so selfless as of late. That’s your doing, you know. It’s not bad,” she rushes to clarify, “but don’t push it all out of him. He’s got to take care of himself. We all do.”
Mobius shakes his head. “I’m not going to turn him into someone he isn’t already, or someone he doesn’t have the capacity to become,” he tells her. “I don’t need him to change. I like him for who he is.” He decides not to use the word love. It feels too heavy on his tongue. New and foreign. “He’s Loki. Undeniably himself. He always will be.”
Sylvie smiles at him again. “You’re a good guy, Mobius.” He can’t tell if this is her way of apologizing for what she’d said to him, or if she’s simply stating her approval, but he doesn’t mind either way. “I’m happy for you both.”
She moves to step away, in the direction of the others–B-15 has been very unsubtly glancing over at the two of them for their whole conversation–but Mobius has one more thing to say.
“Sylvie,” he calls, and she turns around to look at him again. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“You know.” He huffs. “Loki and I.”
“The two of you appeared in the room out of thin air and he practically cradled you for five minutes.”
His cheeks, already warm, get hotter.
“It was like thirty seconds.”
“All the same,” she says. “Apart from that… I see the way he looks at you. You don’t?”
Mobius doesn’t say anything. Sure, he’s noticed. It just… wasn’t until very recently.
“Oh, Mobius,” Sylvie gives him a little frown-smile, and pats his cheek once, twice. “Good luck.”
Before he can respond, there’s a loud oof! that has everyone turning toward the direction it came from. In another gruesome and uncanny flash of limbs, Loki and O.B. appear back where they were a minute or two ago. O.B. touches his own face with his hands, as though to check if it’s still intact. Loki leans on the counter, slightly out of breath.
“You alright?” He asks him. It doesn’t matter how many times Mobius sees Loki time slip. It’ll scare him every time. Loki doesn’t give him an answer, still catching his breath, but he looks at him and nods.
“How did it go?” Timely walks toward O.B. “Did you fi… figure out the answer?”
O.B. blinks at him. He adjusts his glasses. “Yes,” he says, after a moment. “Loki should be able to manipulate the radiation. But it will still be very difficult,” he tells him, lips pursed slightly as a look of concern settles on his face. “This will require much more concentration than your time slipping. You’ll not only be working with finer material, but decayed material. The energy out there is not as pure as the time you’ve been controlling. It might not always respond the way you want it to.”
Loki flips his hair back and lets out a deep breath. “I understand. But I have to try.” Without any further discussion, he makes his way toward the stairs that lead to the gateway. “I’m going to go out there.”
Before he descends, Mobius walks toward him. He puts a hand on his shoulder, and Loki stops to turn around, to look at him. “Are you sure this’ll work?”
“Yes. No. I haven’t been sure of any of this,” Loki shakes his head. “But this feels right. It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He looks at Mobius, a bit desperately, like he needs the answer to be yes.
Mobius still isn’t sure he totally understands how Loki’s controlling time and space and everything in between, but that doesn’t matter. This is the most confident he’s seen Loki in any idea they’ve had so far. He believes in him. It comes easily.
“It does,” he tells him, hand sliding down to his elbow. His thumb presses into it and he lets himself smile at Loki. “You’ve got this. Just… be careful.”
“I’m going to end this,” Loki says. He takes one final look at Mobius, eyes creasing at the corners. And then he goes down the steps, and Mobius can only wait to see what happens.
He walks toward the windows and presses his palms against the glass. His heart is racing beneath his chest like it hasn’t in he-doesn’t-know-how-many loops. If he does this, it’s over. It’s all over. Fixing the Loom means fixing the loop means going on with his life. Their lives.
He hopes their lives stay intertwined after this.
Mobius can not only hear the opening of the blast doors, but he feels the vibration beneath his skin as it travels through the room. Nobody says a word. The room’s so quiet he thinks he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He looks out and waits to see Loki. Come on, he thinks. Please.
There’s a flash of light, and then a thump. Mobius watches the multiplier roll down the gateway. There’s no Loki to be found.
It didn’t work.
He can hear panicked gasps behind him. Everyone starts to ask what went wrong, if Loki is dead, what do they do now? Mobius doesn’t say a word. He just stares out at the Loom and watches it implode. He watches the same blast barrel towards them for what feels like the thousandth time. It gets blurry, through the tears in his eyes. It’s almost beautiful like this.
He rests his forehead against the glass of the windows and shuts his eyes.
Then, Mobius dies.
In the next loop, Loki is racing down the stairs before Mobius has even fully come to awareness again. There’s a quiet shout from beneath the floor, a muffled get his aura scanned!
Everyone in the room looks at each other, a little confused. Mobius feels a numbness in his fingertips. It threatens to spread throughout his body. He feels so tired. How many times are they going to fail?
Mobius helps Timely into the scanner before he’s even thinking about it. His feet follow the same path they’ve taken nearly every time. His hands take Timely’s glasses. He offers him words of encouragement when he’s done. Realizing his actions are engrained into his body, that everything he’s doing is muscle memory, threatens to send him spiraling.
The bars on the windows pull up. A voice welcoming He Who Remains fills the room. O.B. makes his way to the stairs then shouts down to Loki and asks him if he knows what to do.
Mobius leans against the railing that wraps around the desks. He looks out at the Loom. He waits to hear the blast doors open. He waits to feel the room shake with it. He’s torn between a sinking feeling in his chest, a hopelessness he’s trying desperately to fight off, and his utter belief in Loki. He doesn’t think Loki can’t do it. He’s positive he can. Eventually. He’s just not sure how many more loops he can take. He might go mad.
He takes a deep breath.
Tries to ground himself.
Tries to stay positive.
Mobius thinks of blue eyes and black hair between his fingers and lips against his and the sound of Loki’s voice and a comforting smile and hands never far from his own. And then the doors open, and then there’s nothing, and then he dies again.
And again.
And again.
And again, and again, and again.
Every time, Loki runs down, frantic. Every time, Mobius leans against the railing or slumps to the floor or just sits down where he blinks back into existence, head between his hands. Every time, he hears the doors open. When this is all over, he thinks that the sound of it might start to haunt him. Or maybe the sound of the computer welcoming He Who Remains. Four words that he’ll never be able to scrub from his memory.
The blast doors open and Mobius fights the urge to look away. He sits there, and he thinks of Loki. He thinks of his life. Everything he lived and everything he didn’t. All of the bad things he’s done. All of the good. All of the good he’s capable of.
Loki, with his stubbornness and his persistence and his brilliant ideas and his cunning and his bleeding heart. His bleeding heart. Everything he does, in the name of love, even if he doesn’t realize it. Searching for approval all his life. Fighting for a scrap of attention. Yearning for a modicum of recognition.
And here he is, at the end of everything, trying to save it all. And nobody but the people here will ever know it happened. Will ever know how many times he’s died, over and over, to save them all.
He stands up and walks toward the windows. Palms pressed to the glass, breath fogging up the glass. He peers out at where he hopes Loki will walk down the gateway.
Come on, Loki, he thinks. This is it. This is it.
He gets a glimpse of a big, bulky suit that peeks out from the gateway. A gloved hand in the air, green energy pulsating from it. Stiff shoulders come into view, followed by the rest of him, pushing against the force of the radiation. It spreads out around him and whirls away from Loki. It almost looks like a shield. Mobius watches Loki struggle under the pressure of it. He holds the multiplier in one hand, grip on it loose, shaky. He makes it a few steps down the pathway. Mobius can see all of him before his knees buckle beneath the weight. The multiplier rolls out of his hands, and his magic fades from the air. The radiation comes flying back toward him and breaks him apart. Tears him into pieces, bit by bit, until there is nothing left of him to see.
Mobius hasn’t seen that happen before. He’d seen it happen to himself. And he knew it had happened to everyone else. But they’ve always been out of sight for it. Every time.
The sight of Loki unraveling before him is one that will never escape his memory. There’s a rush of nausea in his chest, sick horror. All he can do is stand there, stare at where Loki used to be, and wait for the Loom to take him again.
The next time, when Loki tries to barrel down the stairs, Mobius blocks his path. “Mobius, what are you doing?” Loki asks, tries to get around him. His breath is frantic, hair is messed about his face. Mobius won’t budge, arms on either side of the railing, making a barricade he knows Loki won’t push through. Eventually, Loki lets up, takes a step back and looks at him. “Mobius. Let me go. I made it out that time. I can do this.” His look of confusion changes, for a moment, to a look of hurt. Eyebrows drawn together, pout on his lips. “You believe me, don’t you?”
His hands slide off the railings to reach up to Loki’s face. He slides the hair in his face out of the way and tucks it behind his ears. “Of course, I believe in you,” he tells him, then lets his hands fall to cup his cheeks. He holds Loki’s face there, between his hands, and wants to hold him like this forever. His thumb traces over the soft skin beneath his eye, fingers on his other hand tracing up and down Loki’s jawline. He’s intact, here, beneath his touch. Not falling apart. Safe. Alive. He can feel the silent stare of the others boring into him. He pays it no mind. They’ll probably have no memory of this, anyhow.
“I saw you get out there,” he tells him. “You made it. You made it until you didn’t, and then I saw you…” he trails off. Loki goes from hurt to sorrowful. “I saw you get pulled apart and I don’t want to see something like that ever again.”
“I’m sorry,” Loki tells him. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.” He looks away for a moment. Looks a little distant. Mobius wonders what’s going through his head. “I really thought I’d had it that time. But I did make it out there. I know I can make it all the way.” One of Loki’s hands slides up to the hand Mobius has on his face. He pulls it off, gently, to hold it between his own. His fingers slide over the back of Mobius’ hand. He can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort him, or himself, or the both of them, but it helps to unravel some of the tightness in Mobius’ chest. “But O.B. was right. It’s harder to manipulate the radiation. Every time I try to pull at it, it feels like it slips between my fingers.”
“You’re out there being bombarded by it on all sides,” Mobius says. “That, and you have to take the multiplier with you. Can’t use both hands if you’re lugging that along. There’s got to be another way.”
“It’s the only way,” Loki shakes his head.
“You’re overwhelmed, Loki. You can’t handle it all at once.”
“Who, Mobius? If not me? I’m the only one who can do this.”
Mobius looks at him. Steel determination in his gaze, even if it's accompanied by fear. Then he looks down at their hands, where Loki has not stopped gently caressing Mobius’, and an idea pops into his head that seems so easy he feels like an idiot for not having thought of it earlier.
“You’re not alone,” Mobius tells him. “You’re not alone.”
Loki looks confused. “I know I’m not, but for this–”
“No, Loki, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to be for this either. How can you put the multiplier in and keep the radiation away from you at the same time? To put the multiplier in, to hit the button, to fix the Loom you’d have to take your focus off the radiation and that could kill you in less than a second.” Mobius is talking fast, the plan assembling itself together in his head. “But you don’t have to carry the multiplier. You don’t have to be alone. I’ll go out there with you.”
Loki looks at him like he’s crazy. “You’ll what?”
“If I carry the multiplier,” Mobius says, “then you can focus on keeping the radiation away. From the both of us. And then we make our way down and I put the multiplier in and you keep us safe while it happens. Then I push the button and we save the day.”
Loki’s gaze searches his own. It seems like he’s trying to find a problem with Mobius’ plan, an argument to make, but he says nothing. O.B.’s voice calls out from the side of the room, “That would be a good plan. If Loki could control the radiation. Which he can’t.”
“I can,” Loki says, but he keeps staring at Mobius.
“Since when?” B-15 asks. She sounds bewildered. “How long have you known that for?”
“A while, now. Long story.” Loki’s hand comes to the side of Mobius’ neck, thumb settling just beneath his jawbone. “You really think it’ll work?”
“I think that I don’t want you to do this on your own,” he says, “and I think we work well together. Don’t you?”
Loki smiles at him. It looks so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. Will Mobius ever get over it? Not likely, he suspects. That’s fine. He’ll enjoy every moment of a lifetime where he gets to be enamored by how gorgeous the God in front of him is. He’ll enjoy every moment of a lifetime where he gets to be the one to cause that smile. He’ll enjoy every moment of a lifetime where he gets to kiss those lips.
So he does.
He leans forward, presses his lips to Loki’s and revels in how Loki immediately returns it. Their noses bump, ever so slightly, and Loki lets out a quiet, laughterful hmm as he adjusts. He tilts his head, lips sliding against Mobius’. He intertwines their fingers and Mobius tightens his grip on him. He can’t get enough of Loki. He never will. Loki’s lips are cool against his own but they fill him with warmth anyway. A warmth that spreads throughout his whole body. A warmth he may spend the rest of his life chasing after.
When they part, Loki rests their foreheads together. “You’re wearing the suit,” he tells him, a little breathless. “Come on. We’re running out of time.”
Mobius smiles. He leans in one more time, gently. One last comfort before the two of them head out. Loki, despite his desire to get to the Loom in time, kisses him back anyway. He wonders if Loki can tell from his touch that he means everything to him. Probably not, he thinks. When he pulls away, he tells him. The truth feels less heavy when Loki’s here in front of him to hear it. He whispers it against his lips and hopes that Loki understands just how much he means it when he says,
“I love you.”
Mobius hates this suit.
If this is the last time he wears it–and he sincerely hopes it is–it will still not be soon enough. It’s unbearably hot. He can already feel beads of sweat dripping down his arms, his legs, and his back. It’s hard to move any of his limbs with the weight of the suit pushing down on him, and the tube at his back that keeps him connected to the TVA always feels like it’s trying to pull him back in. Feels ominous, if he thinks about it too hard. Like a warning.
He stands there in front of the blast doors. He can feel his heart pounding beneath his chest. It’s been a while since he’s gone out there. He hopes this time is different from all the rest.
Loki stands in front of him and to his right. His hands are already in the air, and Mobius can tell that they’re shaking ever so. He wants to comfort him, hold his hands between his own until the shaking’s gone, but he can’t. There’ll be time for that after this.
He can hear O.B.’s voice come through in his suit. “Are you both ready to go?” He asks. “Remember, load the multiplier into the launcher and then push the green button. If it all goes well, the rings will expand and the branches will be pulled through. The radiation around you should subside when that happens, but it will still be dangerous. Don’t take your suit off and make sure Loki keeps that radiation away from you both.”
“You ready, Loki?” He asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mobius lets his gaze linger on Loki for a moment longer, then leans down and grabs the multiplier. He gets both hands tight around it, making sure his grip on it is secure. “We’re ready, O.B. Wish us luck.”
“Let’s hope science is on your side,” O.B. murmurs, and then goes quiet.
There’s a loud clank as the doors separate, and then they’re open. Mobius is looking out at the gateway, out at the launcher, out at the Loom. He can see the whirls of radiation swirling around, everywhere he looks. There’s so much of it. No wonder Loki was struggling so hard.
He steps closer to Loki and waits for him to take the lead. When he looks over, Loki’s already staring at him. “When this is over,” he tells him, “I have something I need you to know.”
“When it’s over,” Mobius assures him, “you can tell me anything you want. But let’s get out there and finally fix this thing first. We can do this. Together,” he adds, and can’t help the rush of affection he feels at the sound of it.
“Together.” Loki takes a deep breath, nodding. Then his hands come up and Mobius watches as the colorful waves of energy dancing around the blast doors start to slink together and move out. Loki steps onto the gateway and Mobius’ heart hammers. He’s moving the radiation away. Will it be enough to keep them safe?
When there’s enough space on the path to step out, Mobius follows after Loki. And when he crosses the threshold, for the first time since the loops began, he does not immediately get pulled apart.
It’s working.
Slowly, surely, they make their way down the pathway. Slowly, surely, Loki pulls the radiation around the both of them. It turns green as his magic weaves webs in between each particle. He forms a bubble around them, impenetrable to the radiation that starts hurling toward them faster and heavier the closer they get to the Loom.
Mobius is so dazzled by what he sees. It’s gorgeous, the way he pulls it apart, pieces it back together in the form of something new. It’s like watching an artist at work, a master of their craft. He has to ask Loki to show him what he can do with his magic when this is all over. He wants to see everything he has to offer.
Eventually, after what is maybe a moment or two but really feels like an eternity, the both of them make it to the launcher. Loki stands in front of it with his hands in the air and continues to channel the radiation, sending it flying around them. “Okay, Mobius,” O.B.’s voice is in his suit again. “Load the multiplier, then press the green button. Also, get Loki to move out of the way. I don’t know what will happen if the multiplier hits him instead of the Loom, but I don’t want to find out.”
Mobius shifts his hands around the multiplier, heaves it up in his arms, and slots it into the launcher. It takes a bit more effort than it did the last time–the thing is outrageously heavy, and he’s a little more stressed than he was before–but thankfully Loki doesn’t comment on it. There is a slight look of amusement on his face when he looks up, though, and after he locks the multiplier into place, he hovers his hand above the green button. “You think this is funny?”
“No. Well, maybe a little.” Loki sucks in a breath, glancing away from him as he focuses back on the radiation around them.
“O.B. told me to tell you to move out of the way. You’re in the multiplier’s path. I could press the button now, though, if you’d like.” He hears Loki laugh a little. The sound of it lifts his heart.
“You would never,” he says, like it’s true, like he knows it’s true and doesn’t have to doubt it for a second. And he’s right. Of course he’s right.
“I would never,” Mobius repeats. “But actually, get out of the way.”
Loki moves to the side, fingers twitching. “This better work,” he says, then watches as Mobius slams his hand down on the green button. The two of them watch as the launcher whirls around and then ejects the docker. Mobius can feel the pounding of his heart beneath his chest, feel his fear race down to the tips of his fingers.
The launcher ejects like a harpoon, wily rope flying out toward the Loom. Radiation darts around it and flies through it, but it stays steady in its course. Eventually, it docks with the Loom, just like it did before. It hangs on and clings to it, and for the longest seconds of Mobius’ life, nothing happens.
And then there’s an impossibly loud noise, something unlike Mobius has ever heard before. He’d cover his ears if he could, but he doesn’t exactly have the means to in this suit. It’s the sound of metal crushing and then expanding and the sound of countless timelines pushing, pulling, squeezing against each other, and then bursting free.
The rings of the Temporal Loom briefly shrink (Mobius’ heart nearly stops then and there) before they expand, rapidly, all at once. The different branches start flying through them, wrapping around and between each other in a myriad of light. It hurts to look at. Once they’re through all of the rings, they settle together neatly, weaving into one.
O.B.’s voice rings through his ears.
“It’s working.”
The radiation surrounding them starts to subside. It stops flying at them and instead floats past them, less severe in all of its movements. The harsh colors of it die down into something softer. Mobius looks at Loki, expecting to see joy there, but all there is is furrowed eyebrows as he looks at his own hands.
“Loki? We did it. It’s working.” Mobius can hardly believe the spectacle unfolding before them. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
“O.B. said the radiation was a result of the Loom decaying, right? All of the branches overwhelming it, then dying?” He looks at Mobius. There’s something in his gaze, there. Something meaningful, something certain. He’s just not sure what.
“Yes,” Mobius says, taking a step towards him. “Why?” He watches Loki’s eyes dart between his hands, the radiation, and the Loom. Mobius can’t tell what he’s going to do but he knows he’s going to do something. “Loki, what are you thinking?”
“The radiation is broken bits of timeline,” he says. “What if I can put them back together?”
“Can you?” He asks, and steps between Loki’s arms. He’s still pushing the radiation around them, keeping them safe. He settles his hands on Loki’s waist, bulky gloves resting there as softly as he can make them.
“I think I can. I think I should.”
Mobius looks at Loki and he sees, there, in front of him, a God. He often forgets. But with the green of his magic darting around them, the look of hope on his face, and all of Mobius’ own knowledge on every Loki that has ever been, he remembers. And he looks more at peace with himself than he’s ever been before. Never seen this certainty in his eyes in his life on the timeline. If anyone can do this, Loki can. Loki will.
“Do it,” he tells him. Loki looks down at him. There’s something else there, beneath his lashes as they stare at each other. Loki looks at Mobius and then it clicks. All that Mobius can see is love.
“I don’t know if I can keep the radiation away from us if I do this,” he tells him, and there’s fear there, now, where there wasn’t any before. “I don’t know what will happen. This might kill us both.”
“Do it,” he repeats. Loki may not know exactly what this entails, but Mobius doesn’t doubt for a second that he’ll keep the both of them safe. He’s capable. He has more power than he knows. More strength. More love. “I believe in you.”
Loki wraps both of his arms around Mobius, pulls him flush against his chest, and then everything is green.
Every bit of radiation around them gets pushed away in a shockwave that Loki triggers. It goes flying in every direction until it’s pushed out next to the TVA, next to the Loom. Loki’s breathing heavily, grunting every so often under the strain of it. He watches as he lifts it through the air and then, with a pull of his fingers, it starts flying back toward them.
For a moment, Mobius is terrified.
And then he watches the bits and pieces turn into long, glowing strands of green and gold and yellow and brown. They dart past Mobius, between Loki’s hands, and circle the both of them almost playfully. Loki’s heavy breathing has evened out as he gains complete control over the temporal radiation. He’s pieced it all back together.
When Mobius manages to drag his gaze off of the marvel he’s witnessing unfold in front of him, he looks at Loki. His eyes are a radiant green, glowing with his magic. This is what you’ve always been capable of, he thinks. Never a villain. A hero.
Loki turns around, and Mobius moves with him. The reformed timelines fly toward the Loom. There are so many of them Mobius can’t count them all. They spin through the air and it’s hypnotizing. He doesn’t want to look away.
When they make it to the Loom, they get pulled in with all the other branches. Loki’s arms fall down and collapse at his sides before they wrap around Mobius. Mobius doesn’t know what to say, so he is content to stay here with Loki for a moment. Content to watch the branches swirl through the Loom.
And then a dart of radiation speeds toward them, and Mobius squeezes Loki’s waist and makes to shout his name but Loki’s hand has already snapped out, green pulses of energy wrapping around the two of them.
“Okay, I didn’t get it all.” Loki looks at him with wide eyes. His forehead is sweaty, hair sticking to it. “I don’t think all of it is timeline. I think some of it is just, uh, normal time.”
“You just saved billions of lives,” Mobius tells him. “Billions.”
Loki rests his forehead against the glass of Mobius’ helmet. “Mobius,” he says, and his voice has dropped down to a whisper. “You know that thing I wanted to tell you?”
“Yeah?” He offers him an encouraging smile. “What is it?”
Loki gazes at him. There’s so much emotion in those eyes.
“I love you.”
When they make it back inside, the first thing Mobius does is throw his helmet off and kiss Loki so hard that he sends the both of them toppling to the floor.
At the end of time, there is a spark of energy, waiting for the right moment to burst into all it could ever be. In the very middle of the universe, surrounded by an eternity of nothingness, there is a spark of energy, that looks like love, that feels like love, that may, or may not, very well be love. At the center of all things, there is a spark of energy that, when it fizzles out, will be the very last thing the universe has ever known. And then, at the beginning of time, the universe will take its first breath and with it, there will be a spark of energy. And it will look like love, it will feel like love, and it may, or may not, very well be love.