Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There’s nowhere left to go.” Before the sentence is even fully formed, Loki raises his arm and with one flick of his wrist, they’re suddenly somewhere else. The look of defeat on Sylvie’s face quickly shifts to pure confusion as she turns her head to both sides, watching as the room stops shredding itself around her. She turns back to face Loki, something more accusatory starting to form in her expression. “What’s happening?”

“We’re outside time,” he says, lowering his hand as the space around them continues to put itself back together.

He sees her take this in, her eyes catching on stray bits of the room floating back to their rightful places. “How?”

“I finally learned to control the time slipping.” As he says it, he almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, as if it even resembles an explanation. He doesn’t really have a better one though, and he’s grateful when Sylvie doesn’t seem to need one, not right now anyway. Slowly, carefully, he continues. “I went back. I thought I could fix the Loom. It’s a failsafe. It was designed to protect the Sacred Timeline and nothing else.”

Sylvie scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Of course it is.”

Something within Loki relaxes at that, just to know that someone else understands the cruelty, the unfairness of it all. Together, they recognize that they’re only standing here because someone was so inconceivably selfish that he put his own desire for power—for control—above the free will of every other soul, to strip it without remorse and doctor a new universe that would crumble should he ever be challenged.

“I’m out of options, Sylvie. I’ve tried everything. The only way that anything survives—”

“Is if I never kill He Who Remains in the first place.” He sees the understanding hit her immediately, her expression softening with it, as if to understand is to be unburdened. Loki knows better. “So you have to kill me.”

Loki doesn’t know what to say to that, really, so he says nothing as she takes a few steps forward.

Her expression turns hard, almost unimpressed, as she stops in front of him and says, “I’m not giving you my blessing, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

It startles Loki to realize that’s exactly what he was waiting for; it’s also a relief greater than he can express that she won’t give it to him. But—

“What do I do? It’s the Sacred Timeline, or nothing.”

“It’s not enough to protect the Sacred Timeline, Loki.” There’s pity in Sylvie’s expression now, like she feels sorry for him, that he could ever believe it was enough. “Even down there, it’s full of death and destruction and injustice. Do you really want to be the god who takes away everyone’s free will so you can protect that?”

He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. But—

“But what good is free will if everyone’s dead?”

“And who are you to say we can’t die trying? Who are you to decide we can’t die fighting?” He doesn’t want to be the person who stands in the way of the fight; he also doesn’t want to be the person who allows it to continue, knowing it can only end in loss. It feels impossible, and yet Sylvie’s looking at him now like the solution is to keep fighting, and he honestly doesn’t know whether she’s right. “You’re replacing one nightmare with another. I grew up in apocalypses, Loki. I’ve lived through enough of them to know that sometimes… it’s okay to destroy something.”

Destruction. More destruction, as if he hasn’t done enough of that already. As if he hasn’t been fighting tooth and nail to fix the TVA, rather than to see it fall. As if he could ever have done anything else.

But—But if there’s one thing he’s learned from Sylvie, from watching her prepare over and over for the destruction of worlds, it’s that to destroy something doesn’t always mean to end it. Not when there’s something, or someone, left in its wake to continue on, to fight another day.

“If—If there’s a hope that you can replace that thing… with something better.” When Loki lifts his eyes to meet Sylvie’s this time, he sees in them the same recognition he feels within himself like a light switch abruptly flicked on, both of them coming to the same realization, the same conclusion about something better.

Sylvie must see the resolve in his eyes just as Loki sees it in hers—it’s times like this he remembers they really are the same person—because as he prepares to slip back—forward?—to the TVA and the destruction of the Loom, she reaches out to grasp his arm and before he can stop it, they slip away together.

Loki feels himself stitching back into place as the emergency alarm and flashing lights of the TVA control room begin to flood his senses. He quickly scans the room, the familiar scene preceding the end of everything coming into focus as he takes it in for what must be the thousandth time. He doesn’t stop to really register any of it, though, until his gaze lands on Sylvie, already staring back at him, determination rolling off her in waves.

Neither of them even have the chance to blink before they’re racing for the stairs leading down to the bay doors. He hears confused shouts of his name coming from behind him, likely from Mobius, but all that matters right now is getting to the gangway before Sylvie. 

She makes it to the top of the stairs a split second before Loki does, elbowing him in the stomach as she goes to grab the railing, but not before he can recover enough to reach out and grab her upper arm, pulling her back so hard her feet nearly come off the ground. She uses the momentum to push off of him, so she still makes it down the stairs first, attempting to shut the door to the landing behind her, but he makes it through, coming in right on her heels. 

Instead of going for the bay doors, she turns to face him and shoves him back by the chest as hard as she can, the force with which he hits the door behind him sending him to the floor. When he looks up, Sylvie is staring him down with an angry glare that says, stay down, in clearer terms than she ever could have with words. Loki hears banging on the door behind him and peers back through the glass to see Mobius throwing his fist against it repeatedly, confusion and panic written all over his face. Loki has only a split second to wish he could explain, could say goodbye, even, but Sylvie’s still ahead of him, turned now to force the bay doors open, so he rips his gaze away and forces himself to his feet. 

He only has time to make it to Sylvie’s side before the doors have opened wide enough to allow her to slip through them. Before she can make it to the gangway though, Loki’s hand darts out to grab her wrist, to halt her movement, and he plants himself firmly to the ground as she tries to yank her arm back.

“Stop!” He pleads, using all his strength not to lose his grip around her. “Stop. Please, just—just wait, for one second. You don’t have to do this. Just wait—”

“There isn’t time!” Sylvie shouts back, her efforts to free herself seemingly halted for a moment. “Don’t you get that? There isn’t time to wait, I have to go now.”

“You don’t though,” Loki says, forcing his entire body to relax so he can step forward and hold her shoulders with both hands. “You don’t have to go. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Sylvie’s voice is softer now, as she looks up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Shouldn’t it be me?”

Loki wants to say no, of course not, why should it be her? He wants to say it should be him, to say it and to mean it and to take the burden off of her, but just now, standing in front of her, he can’t think of one single reason why that’s true.

Don’t get him wrong, Loki has no intention of letting Sylvie walk out those doors and into whatever chaos awaits them outside, at least not by herself, but he doesn’t want to lie to her, not about this. So he doesn’t do her the disservice of saying the first thing that comes to mind, feeling his eyebrows knit together and hoping his expression reveals exactly how honest he plans to be.

Shouldn’t it be me? Sylvie had said. And should it? The easy answer, the one he thought of first, is no, it shouldn’t, but not entirely because it should be Loki instead. The truth is, it shouldn’t have to be either of them, and neither would be left standing here if it wasn’t the only option they have left, but he thinks they both know that. What should have happened is easy: Sylvie should never have been arrested by the TVA; hell, Loki shouldn’t have either. There should have been no need for the TVA in the first place; He Who Remains should never have had all the power that he did, should never have ended a war by replacing it with dictatorship, should never have stripped free will from every being in the universe, should never have dared to play God in search of power for powers’ sake. The shoulds are infinite; the shoulds are suffocating because they create an existence where none of this was necessary, neither of them left standing between all life and its collective destruction. The shoulds are impossible, and so Loki doesn’t think about them, can’t think about them, knowing it only makes him yearn for the things that should have happened; the things that didn’t.

He thinks instead about Sylvie, and about himself, and the simple facts that have them both standing here, now. He thinks about the young girl, ripped from her home, from her entire universe and charged with crimes she hadn’t even known were possible to commit. The girl who was told that she was a mistake, that she didn’t have a place among her family, that she didn’t have a place anywhere, but who is still here, still fighting because she refused to accept a fate she didn’t write. He thinks of the girl who ran, who found a way to evade those hunting her by hiding in the disasters that so reflected her tragic and doomed existence, who spent her whole life running, living anonymously for fear any impact she had on those around her would lead to her death, having no roots to plant or return to for decades until Loki stumbled in and changed all of it. 

She should hate him for that, he thinks, and maybe she does a bit. But still, she continued. With him—despite him—she killed the man who pulled the strings, the man who decided her existence weighed less, and she made a life for herself anyway. Not an extravagant one, no, but one with roots. One with certainty and routine and other people, a far cry from the isolated, volatile worlds she was so used to calling home. Yet here she is again, threatened with another apocalypse, this time with no way to escape it and begin anew, and Loki thinks of how tired she must be. He thinks of all the fighting and the running she’s done, just to find somewhere to rest her body and to live, and how, now that she’s found it, experienced it, she’s forced to fight and to run once more. 

But it’s different this time. It’s different because the choice they face now will bring an end to it all, an end to the chaotic order invented by a power-crazed dictator, an end to the very entity hunting her down and threatening her for daring to survive. This is it. After this, she can rest, knowing wherever she chooses to plant her roots this time, she will be safe. And Loki wants that for her, wants to give that to her, to all their friends, and isn’t that why he’s here? Isn’t that why he’s fighting so hard to be the one to make it down that gangway and launch himself into whatever awaits them within the implosion of space and time?

His thoughts turn to the boy who grew up in the shadow of his brother, of his father, always feeling just short of good enough. The boy who let his own sense of inadequacy turn to vengeance, who let himself be blinded by it, led by it, controlled by it; who let nothing, not even innocent lives, stand between him and a crown. He’s seen the tape, he knows just how much vengeance had cost him, in the end, and he viscerally remembers how it consumed him right up until the day he crash landed in Mongolia and had his own life ripped from him just like Sylvie had, just like countless others before. He saw the tape end, after his one, final act of loyalty cost him his life and he remembers feeling so foolish. How could he think that loyalty would get him anywhere? How could he forget that once he started considering other people, he would always be the one to suffer for it? How could he have been so naive? How could he have thought it would end any differently?

Because truthfully, he thought it was fitting. Not only was it that he was destined to lose, but it was fitting that, once he had finally exhausted all his tricks and deceptions, the only person he could fathom losing for, one more time, was his brother. He knows now that his death was maddeningly inconsequential, that it did nothing to prevent Thanos from gaining power in his war against the universe, but at least he had died at his brother’s side, doing his best to convey that he was with him until the end. He likes to think that Thor got the message.

He also knows, though, that wasn’t him, knows that as he is, right now, he never got the chance to die for his brother, never got to put something, anything, ahead of his own desires before he got to the TVA, and so his next steps, right here, are perhaps the most important of this life. His chance to prove he can make a sacrifice, that even if he’s destined to lose, he can do it for something bigger than he is.

So maybe they were both destined to end up here. Maybe they were both destined to stand between life and death, knowing only one of them can walk back out. How are they meant to make that choice? How are they meant to weigh their lives, to point to one and say, there, that one; that’s the one that matters less? But maybe that isn’t the question they should be asking, because maybe this isn’t an end. Maybe this is something they both walk away from, just in opposite directions. Maybe all they should ask is which direction they need to go.

Finally, after what seems like hours but has likely only been seconds, Loki finds the words he needs to respond. “It could be you,” he says, because it could. “It certainly doesn’t have to be, but it could be you.” He lets a moment pass before he asks, “Do you need it to be?”

This time, it’s Sylvie’s turn to take a moment to think. He sees her eyes unfocus, gaze drifting down from his as she considers her answer. Then, steadily, she meets his eyes again, determination and a gentle smile on her face, and says, “Yes.”

It takes a moment, for Loki to feel that hit him, like a delayed reaction; like he takes a breath in and doesn’t register her response until it leaves his chest; like it replaces the oxygen in his lungs, one word becoming the source of the life within him.

He didn’t ask her if she wanted this; he knows better. He knows that neither of them want to give up what could be the rest of their lives, but he had to know, if he had been just a bit faster than her and made it to the gangway before she did, would she have been able to live with that? Loki thinks about his own answer, too, about what if she had been able to trap him behind that landing door with Mobius, but looking at her now he doesn’t know what he would say. Doesn’t know if he needs it. Not the way Sylvie might.

So he doesn’t know how to respond to her, and thankfully he doesn’t have to, not yet.

“Do you know what it’s like, living as a ghost?” Sylvie asks, her voice still soft, choosing each word deliberately, slowly, as if she needs Loki to hear the gravity beneath each one. “Do you know what it’s like to have no purpose, to make no impact, to know anything you do will be erased before any other soul has the chance to know about it?” He sees her eyes soften, the beginnings of tears starting to form at the corners. “As a child, I walked Asgard knowing I was important, knowing I meant something to somebody. I was told I would grow up to be powerful, to lead, to show mercy and to make the hard decisions. And do you know what happened instead? I was ripped from that life. Was taken away from it without a second thought from those who took me, and to survive I had to discard all the parts of myself that I knew. I had to hide, to not be seen or heard, to not leave a single blade of grass out of place for fear I’d be found and dragged back to certain death. I gave up the hope that I’d have anything to call my own, that anyone would even know my name.

“I got it back though. When He Who Remains was dead, and I could see the timelines starting to branch again, that hope came back. I got to live, Loki. I got to live, and I got to try things; I got to try everything and standing here, now, I don’t regret a second of it. Maybe I didn’t get to do it for very long, but finally, finally, I wasn’t a ghost, and it was everything.” Her voice is almost a whisper now. “It was everything, and now I have the chance to save everything else. I have the chance to stop running, to stop hiding, to do something that has an impact after a lifetime of never daring to.”

Her last sentence hits Loki like a blow to the stomach, the air knocked out of him all at once, because he can see it now. She’s been fighting her whole life for a chance to have a real one, and she got it. She’s been running her whole life in hopes that one day she might not have to, and here it is in front of her: the chance to turn her existence into one of such immense consequence that everyone to ever grace the timeline would do so at her mercy, would feel the blood flow through their veins because she allows it; and who couldn’t notice her then?

“We’re no longer destined to lose.” Her voice is just a whisper, now, but Loki hears her despite the chaos around them trying to drown her out. “Don’t you want to know who you could be? Don’t you want the chance to live a story you can write?”

Loki feels the stinging in his eyes as he fights not to let the tears fall, because yes, he wants that. He wants it so badly he swears he can taste it, but how could he admit that to Sylvie? How could he ask her to sacrifice herself just because he wants another go? He realizes, though, that she isn’t asking him to weigh their lives. She isn’t asking him to let her throw herself on the pyre just for him, or for anyone at all, really. Because it isn’t about him, not to Sylvie. For her, it’s about an existence with meaning, a real one, about having a place to call home and a responsibility to carry. For her, it is about glorious purpose.

He thinks again about that first day at the TVA, watching his entire life on the Sacred Timeline flash before his eyes, and he remembers laughing at the idea, at his own naivety and what he thought of his own glorious purpose. At the time, he thought it was to rule, to lead; he'd even said so to Mobius when he asked. Now though? Well, now, it could be anything; the thought both comforts him and makes his blood run cold with fear.

Sylvie’s offering him the chance to find it, though; she offers it with the surety and benevolence of someone who has found her own and is determined to see it through.

So there’s nothing left to argue, is there? Nothing more for either of them to say that could change what’s going to happen next. Loki feels the acceptance start to settle within him, so as much as it pains him, as much as it feels like he’s letting Sylvie down by letting her walk away, he summons the strength to do so. He relaxes his grip on her shoulders and lets his hands fall until his fingers curl loosely around hers. He looks down as he nods his head slightly, hoping—knowing—she’ll understand this is him throwing down his sword. He hopes she will too.

Loki takes a step back from Sylvie, lifting his head to meet her gaze as a tear finally falls down his cheek. He sees no sadness reflected back at him, though.

“I know what I want,” Sylvie says. She’s looking back at him and he sees no pain, no regret sitting in her eyes. She steps forward to meet him as she slips off the TemPad she took from He Who Remains at the end of time, so long ago, and places it in Loki’s palm before stepping back again. “I know what kind of goddess I need to be… for me.” As she says those last two words, her expression steels, but there’s no heat behind it. Only peace, a calm but sure acceptance. “For everyone.”

Loki nods once more, glancing down at the disc in his hand to blink stray tears away, before he looks back up at her for the last time. “Thank you,” he whispers, knowing she hears him anyway. She smiles gently at him, then glances over his shoulder to give a curt nod to Mobius, who Loki finds is still standing behind the landing doors when he turns to follow her gaze. 

When he looks back to where Sylvie stood, she’s already gone, back turned to him, fighting the air around her on the gangway with each step as she makes her way towards the Loom still breaking down in front of them. 

It’s subtle, at first, but through the wind and the radiation whipping around her, her clothes start to fall away, revealing deep green, Asgardian robes underneath. By the time she’s taken another step against the violent winds doing their best to hold her back, a long green mantle is billowing out behind her, two horns starting to extend from the crown now placed on her head as she goes.

Watching her from his place in the doorway, even through the chaos filling the atmosphere around the TVA, Loki sees her in all her divine glory. He sees not just Sylvie, fugitive variant, born of apocalypse and destruction, but he sees Her. Sylvie, princess of Asgard, daughter of Odin, the rightful queen of Jotunheim, Goddess of Mischief. He sees her as the goddess she was born to be—the one she deserves to be—as she wields the power she bestowed upon herself to destroy the very thing created to control her, all in the name of multiversal liberation.

When the silence that follows becomes deafening, he watches her take into her hands the loose threads of time left behind by the Loom and breathe life back into them, watches her collect them, hold each one close to her as she climbs a set of stairs he hadn’t realized was there.

Only once she disappears from view through a crack in space and time where the Loom once stood does Loki register the numbness he feels throughout his entire body; a quietude washing through him as he struggles to remember how to move.

He turns to the landing door and finds it empty on the other side where Mobius had been standing; he must’ve made his way back up the stairs to join the others at some point while Loki had been too distracted watching someone that wasn’t him fulfil what he had dared to believe to be his destiny. He finds the door opens easily for him now, and he relies on the railing to guide him back up to the control room, each step he takes mindless, automatic. He stops when he reaches the top, looking around to see his friends bathed in the darkness of the room, their gazes still fixed to the window, to the spot Sylvie had disappeared through, all of time in tow. He inhales sharply at the sight, startled when he sees no indication she had even been there at all. The sound must have alerted Mobius to his presence; the other man turns to face him and it’s barely a second before he’s moving towards Loki, his arms reaching out as if ready to catch him and it surprises Loki to realize he needs him to, practically falling into his arms the moment he’s close enough.

“Thank god,” Mobius is saying, voice just a whisper beside Loki’s ear. “Thank god, you’re here. You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, it’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.”

Loki’s about to admonish him for trying to coddle him, but he realizes his face is wet, the tears having apparently resumed their path down his face. He exhales shakily, sinking even further into Mobius’ arms, his own coming up to clutch at the other man’s back as he tucks his face in between his neck and shoulder.

“Just breathe, alright? That’s it, I’ve got you. It’s okay, we’ve got time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

And it’s true, they do have time. At the mercy of a goddess, holding all of life in her hands, they have time.

Loki hears the others moving around him, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He will, later, but not yet. For now, in the arms of the safest person he’s ever known, he has time. And so he takes it.

Chapter Text

Someone is talking near him. 

At first he thought it was a fly or something, almost went to swat the air beside his head, before he remembered that there are no flies at the TVA.

A person, then. It’s a voice he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t think they’re talking to him, which is just as well because he can’t make out what they’re saying; not that he cares enough to try.

He’s sitting at what he thinks is Mobius’ desk, gaze fixed on the screen at the centre of the room.

The others seemed perplexed when they saw it, having only ever operated within a single timeline, but Loki recognized it as soon as he saw it: Yggdrasil. The tree of life. It contains not only the Nine Realms, now, but all realms, all worlds to ever exist and the ones that haven’t been born yet, and at its middle sits their source of life; at its middle sits a deity, protecting every branch, every root that extends from its centre and beyond. At its middle sits a goddess. Loki doesn’t have to see it to know, and he does know that she is there.

After Sylvie had disappeared through the stairway beyond space and time, after Mobius had held him for what felt like eons, after his tears had finally stopped, he followed the others out of the control room, a steady arm around his waist as he went. He let himself be guided through the long hallways until they reached the main room, with all the analysts’ desks waiting on either side, though no analysts occupied them now. He briefly registered a small crowd formed near the centre of the room, their faces all turned towards the screen hanging from the ceiling.

He was led to the left side of the room and into a chair, when Mobius’ voice broke through the ringing in his ears to ask if he’d be alright by himself for a moment. Loki felt himself nod slightly, even though there were few times in his long life where he’d felt less alright, and Mobius’ hand slipped away from his shoulder as he went to join B-15 and speak to the other workers.

Loki wasn’t watching them, though.

From the moment he caught sight of it, his eyes hadn’t been able to leave the screen everyone had been watching, the one where Yggdrasil was growing and expanding and sustaining all the lives now thriving under Sylvie’s protection. New branches form with each passing second, with each expression of free will granted by the goddess who gave everything for them to have it. It’s fascinating to see, really. He enjoys tracking the movements with his eyes, marvels in seeing the proof that she succeeded, that they have a chance, now.

He can’t bring himself to do much else, at the moment. Can’t bring his gaze to break past the outline of the small screen even as the colours of the branches leave an impression behind in his vision, each one lingering for a while after his gaze shifts slightly and they begin to fade while the next branch burns itself into his pupils. His vision is a mess of twisting lines and inverted colours and he knows if he were to look away it would take a minute for him to even see anything else. So he doesn’t. He keeps watching the branches, each one with so much life within it that any mortal would be brought to their knees at the prospect of so much power, and yet Sylvie holds it all.

Truthfully, he worries it would be an insult to her to look away, to spend a moment without wondering at the power that flows through her branches. So he sits while others move around him, some frantically, some with purpose, all insignificant, at the moment. He feels badly for thinking it—his friends are all in there somewhere, after all—but he’s having trouble reconciling the fact that they’re all just meant to go on, to do their jobs, when less than an hour earlier they were witnesses to something divine; they live and breath now at the behest of a goddess and it seems so trivial for them to all simply go back to work rather than to just exist in the marvel of such a thing.

So he sits, and he marvels, until he hears that voice again, and it’s the only one he would consider moving for, really.

“Hey.” Mobius sounds so soft, so gentle and kind that it almost makes Loki burst into tears again. He sounds close, too, his voice coming from just beside Loki’s ear. “Hey, bud, can you look at me for a sec?” Loki does. He begrudgingly breaks his gaze away from the screen, from the tree, and turns his head to see Mobius crouching next to the chair he’s sitting in, their eyelines level. He blinks a few times, waiting for the lines in his vision to fade, before he can make out Mobius’ features. The sight makes him halt, a deep breath suddenly filling his lungs. Had his eyes always been so blue? “Ah, there he is,” Mobius says as a gentle smile sneaks its way onto his face. “Let’s get out of here, huh? Wanna go get some pie?” Loki doesn’t, really, but he also doesn’t have it in him to protest, so he takes Mobius’ proffered hand and the other man helps him stand up, straightening his own legs as he does so. “Alright, let’s go.”

Mobius slips an arm around his waist as he had done earlier as he walks them both out of the room. The hallway leading to the automat is a bit too narrow for them to walk side by side the whole way, so Mobius lets him go eventually, gently, leaving his hand out for a moment as if to make sure Loki won’t fall over on his own. When it seems Mobius is satisfied that he won’t, he takes a step in front of Loki to lead him the rest of the way. The automat is blissfully empty when they get there, though that shouldn’t be a surprise considering every worker at the TVA is likely either back in the main room or rushing to get there. Mobius leads them to the same table they sat at before—centuries ago, now—and pulls out one of the chairs for Loki to sit in before taking the seat across from him.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally listening to footsteps pass by quickly in the hallway. Loki’s staring down at his hands folded in his lap, and without looking he knows that Mobius is staring back at him. Loki can tell he’s a little anxious, waiting for him to say something, but he’s also not forcing Loki to before he’s ready, which Loki finds he appreciates right now.

Eventually, without lifting his gaze, he finds his voice.

“I take it you don’t actually want any pie then.”

Mobius exhales sharply through his nose in lieu of laughter. “No, not really, it was just getting kind of busy in there.” There’s amusement in his tone, Loki thinks.

He lets the silence continue again for a few moments before he finally lifts his head to meet Mobius’ gaze and says, “I suppose you’d like to know what happened out there.”

Mobius seems to consider that for a moment. “I would, yeah, but not right now. Not if you don’t want to tell me, I mean. The important part is that we’re still here, and O.B. says the branches are looking stable, so building a narrative isn’t exactly number one on my to-do list at the moment.”

Loki feels a bit of the tension in his chest dissipate at that—he’s not sure he could explain what happened very well yet, anyway, so knowing he doesn’t have to is a relief. He still feels like he owes Mobius something, though. This is the man who took him into his arms, who held him while he cried, and so he feels some sense of obligation, the need to explain what’s going on within him even if he doesn’t quite have the words to.

Loki realizes he’s been silent again for a bit, searches for a response he can give that won’t send him spiraling.

He looks down to his hands again, briefly, then back up to Mobius before speaking. “Do you remember when I first got here? When we were sat in the Time Theatre and you asked me what I would do? If I was back on the timeline, I mean?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t—I think my answer would be different now.”

Mobius nods, like he understands; he probably does. “Okay. What would it be, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes turn back down to stare at the edge of the table. His voice comes out all quiet and raspy when he says, “I don’t know what to do now, Mobius, I—I don’t… I don’t know who I am.” He knows the tears would start again if he keeps going, so he takes a second to breathe, to get himself under control.

When he looks up again, Mobius is smiling gently, none of the pity Loki was expecting in his expression. “Well, that’s easy,” he says, the kindness on his face overwhelming. “You’re Loki. Loki of Asgard. You don’t need to know anything beyond that right now. You’ll figure out what you want, and whether you wanna stick around here or—or be King of Space, or whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay? You don’t have to know any of that yet, but the important part is that you can, and you will. I promise. The worlds are your oyster, or however that saying goes, okay?”

His words calm Loki a bit, but they still don’t solve the problem of what to do next. He tells Mobius as much. “Okay. Okay, so we don’t have to know what to do, but Mobius, I—I also don’t know what to do now.”

Mobius lets out a real chuckle this time. “Now, I think we should have some pie.” There’s humour dancing in his eyes as he says it. “So, let’s do that, sit for a minute, then head back up to B-15 and see if we can’t help out a bit now that everything’s stopped going to shit.”

Loki, finally, feels a smile form on his face. “That,” he says, “sounds manageable.”

It’s comforting, Loki finds, to be around B-15, especially now that she’s become the de facto leader of the remaining TVA workers. What’s left of the Judges’ Council is sequestered to the war room for now, discussing the authority’s next steps; B-15 seems to have Judge Gamble’s trust, and by extension, the rest of the higher-ups, so she’s been going back and forth to provide answers where she can and direction where she can’t.

For the most part, the chaos is over, but in its wake there’s a lot of disorganization. It’s a relief for everyone, Loki thinks, to have someone to look to, and B-15 just has that calming presence, the one that makes you feel like it’s alright not to have any answers because maybe she does.

He’s sure she’s not actually alright, after everything that happened, and makes a mental note to check in with her later, or at least have Mobius do it. He’s not entirely clear on her feelings about Sylvie but he knows it was complicated between them, so to be on the safe side he’d rather not be the one to dredge that all up for her.

Everyone who’s not a judge or a general is still gathered in the main room, for the most part; whether out of necessity or maybe the fact that no one really wants to be alone right now, Loki isn’t sure, but either way it’s convenient for him. 

Mostly he’s been talking to O.B. and Casey as they monitor branch readings and keep a sharp eye out for anything out of the ordinary—relatively speaking—but truthfully there hasn’t been much for them to attend to. O.B. looked surprised when Loki offered himself up as an assistant of sorts—he'd forgotten he hadn’t put his newfound expertise to use in this timeline (is it a timeline? He supposes it’s not, given time works differently here, but honestly he’s not sure what else to call it) yet—but seemed happy to have an extra set of eyes on the screens filling the room. Victor is sitting nearby, anxiously checking in with them every once in a while as if to make sure they won’t be imploding anytime soon. Loki also suspects he’s waiting for everything to calm down a bit so he and O.B. can resume their respective fangirling over each other and the TVA handbook they both helped write—Loki’s still not entirely clear on how that works, but hey, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen by a long shot.

It’s good for him, right now, to be focused on monitoring the branches. He’s calmed down quite a bit compared to the last time he was watching these screens, but it still makes him feel a bit better to know that Yggdrasil—and by extension, Sylvie—won’t fall to the background. He’s not watching alone anymore, either, which is also good for him, and it means it doesn’t feel like he’s tearing fresh stitches every time he looks away and lets his eyes fall to the one person whose presence might feel more important than the tree of life itself.

Mobius has been making his way around the room, talking to groups of analysts and Minutemen, conferring with B-15, checking in with O.B.’s little group periodically to confirm there’s no developments. He doesn’t really have the time to stop moving, at the moment, what with him effectively dubbed B-15’s second in command, but every once in a while, Loki will look at him, and he’ll be looking back, and the blue of his eyes will make Loki’s brain stutter. 

It’ll only last a second, and then someone will be vying to get Mobius’ attention and he’ll smile gently before looking away again. Loki doesn’t always remember to smile back, but he thinks that’s okay. When their eyes meet and it halts all of his movements, the only thing he can do is breathe. He thinks maybe Mobius can see the way the rise and fall of his chest is more defined for that one moment, and maybe that’s why he keeps looking back; he knows Loki won’t remember to breathe on his own. Even from across the room, Mobius makes breathing easier, and for now, Loki’s grateful he doesn’t have the time to think about the implications of that.

And so they all carry on that way for a while, B-15 and Mobius taking charge while they’re needed and delegating tasks that need to be done. O.B. and Loki keep one eye on the branches, Casey offers support everywhere he can, and Victor tries not to have a panic attack. 

Eventually, B-15 comes back into the room after conferring with the council, and announces that their group’s presence is requested in the war room. Loki’s eyes automatically go to Mobius, and when the man is already looking back at him, he feels the tension in his chest lift once more, and he breathes.

They all follow B-15 out of the room, through the long hallways leading back to the one of the last places Loki was hoping to find himself again. When they enter through the large double doors, the room is as dark as Loki remembers, with Judge Gamble seated at the head of the large table. To her left is another judge who, at first glance, looks like he might be dead, but after an abrupt snort Loki realizes is just dozing his way through the TVA’s revolution, which, sure, why not. 

At the far right corner of the table sits a hunter Loki hasn’t seen before, and Loki gathers they must be General Dox’s replacement. They’re younger than Dox, but still highly decorated, an air of seriousness to them that Loki both appreciates and is intimidated by. He notices the Time Keeper’s severed robotic head is no longer sitting in the middle of the table, which he is immensely grateful for; not only did it serve as a pretty effective reminder of how quickly and extensively this whole place has gone to ruin, but the damn thing was also just creepy.

B-15 takes a step to the side and extends her arm, indicating they should take the five empty seats near the back of the room. Loki lets the others file in ahead of him, Casey taking the chair closest to Dox’s old seat, and Victor and O.B. following just behind him. Mobius pulls out the chair to O.B.’s right and gestures for Loki to sit, which he does, and takes the seat at the remaining corner of the table himself. B-15 sits just to the right of Gamble, who adjusts the microphone in front of her.

“Thank you all for being here. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time, I know you have duties to attend to.” 

Gamble’s tone is level, but there’s kindness there. Loki likes her, and if B-15 trusts her leadership then Loki figures that’s a good enough reason for him to do so as well. 

“This is Lieutenant Byrne,” she says, nodding to the officer sitting beside Casey. “They’ve taken over General Dox’s council responsibilities and will be involved with the TVA’s reform and reorganization efforts.” Byrne gives a tight smile at Gamble’s introduction. “Now, I take it to understand that you were all present for the events that led to the destruction of the TVA’s Time Loom. I also understand that we are missing an individual whose actions during these events were imperative to the TVA’s continued operation and the survival of everyone in it, not to mention the protection of the branching timelines and the lives within them. As such, I would like very much to express my gratitude towards all of you, and to Sylvie Laufeydottir, for your efforts. We owe you a debt that cannot possibly be repaid.

“However…” Loki sees her eyebrows narrow slightly as she adjusts her hands folded on the table in front of her. “There is still work to be done. As you know, Hunter B-15 has accepted a role with the Judges’ Council and will be acting as a liaison between the council and the TVA workers. She will be overseeing the projects to be taken on as we determine the TVA’s new capacity within the management of multiple timelines and will report back to the council on their effectiveness and relevance to ensure we continue to act in the best interest of the multiversal population. The provision to ban pruning at the TVA has been approved and is no longer a temporary measure, and we are mandating all weapons—TVA-issued or otherwise—with pruning capabilities be turned in under Lieutenant Byrne’s supervision. One of the projects B-15 will be overseeing is the reprogramming of all TemPads; we’d like safeguards in place to ensure no one inadvertently finds themselves in an unmoderated section of the timeline that was set up to support pruning. Ouroboros,” she turns slightly to make eye contact with O.B., “I understand this is your area of expertise?”

O.B. reaches up to adjust his glasses as he responds. “Yes, I’m pretty familiar with the TemPads and their programming. It shouldn’t be a problem to make some adjustments to their time-travelling functions!” Loki has to hold back a laugh at his modesty; O.B. practically invented the TemPads—pretty familiar is an understatement that rivals Tony Stark referring to the Avengers as pissed off with Loki.

“Wonderful,” Gamble says, a slight smile finally appearing on her face. “There’s another project we’d like to discuss with you as well, but that can be done at a later time if you’re willing.” O.B. nods enthusiastically, giving Loki the impression that he’s absolutely willing. Gamble’s expression settles into solemnity once more as she continues. “Before I get ahead of myself, I want to present to you all the same option I gave to Hunter B-15 when she was offered her position. I’ll ask you now, but know that this will be available to you at any time, should you change your mind. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the TVA is in quite the state of disarray at the moment, but I have every confidence that within no time, all operations will be fully functional. At such a time, you will have the ability, if you so choose, to return to one of the existing timelines and lead a life outside of the TVA.”

Loki feels his eyebrows shoot up at this, and he can only assume his friends’ expressions are no better. Sure, everyone knows they’re variants now—the TVA couldn’t hide that if they tried, what with the rumour spreading like wildfire—but he certainly hadn’t expected the TVA to be so forthcoming with a solution. It makes him ache for all the Minutemen, all the variants, that didn’t make it to this point; all those who would have jumped at this opportunity, who deserved to, but by some stroke of injustice will never get the chance.

“There are stipulations to go along with this of course, such as the degree to which, if at all, those returning to one of the timelines should retain their memories of the TVA. No decisions have been made in regards to this condition, but it’s certainly a discussion to be had in the interest of safety for all those involved. All TVA workers will be given this option; I am presenting it now in hopes to have some sort of estimate of the individuals leaving us by the time we’re prepared to implement it. Again, if you change your mind at a later time, perhaps once you’ve had the chance to properly consider your options, you can let B-15 know and she will relay your decision to us. That being said, are there any of you who can say now that you would be interested in a place on the timeline?”

No one moves. No one even breathes, from what Loki can tell. It seems too good to be true, that the TVA would just let anyone who no longer wants to be here just walk out the door, after all the effort previously put into hiding the truth. Of course, no one in this room was involved with such secrets; everyone here is a victim of He Who Remains’ tyranny, so perhaps it makes sense that they won’t keep anyone here against their will since they all know, intimately, what that’s like.

Still, Loki knows none of these people would accept that offer, at least not right now, except maybe—

“Um…” Victor clears his throat slightly, raising his hand a little as if he’s concerned his response is an inconvenience. “I—I think I w-would be in-interested. A-After everything here calms d-down a bit, of c-course, but it m-might not be b-best for me to st-stick around.”

Judge Gamble nods at him. “Of course, Mr. Timely. I’ll make a note of that now and B-15 will follow up with you at a later time to confirm the details. I know you’re not officially under our employment, but in the meantime you are welcome to the facilities and resources we have here. You’ll be informed once the conditions of your return to the timeline have been finalized by the council, at which time you’ll be able to review and respond to the offer.”

“Th-thank you, m-ma’am,” Victor says, sheepishly, as he gives a tight smile and seems to sink as far back into his chair as possible.

“Is there anyone else who would like to express their interest at this time?” Gamble surveys the rest of them before giving a short, satisfied nod when she’s met with silence. “Alright then. For the rest of you, let’s discuss long-term plans for the TVA and its remaining functions…”

An hour later, the five of them file out of the war room, leaving B-15 behind with the council to finish up discussions about how to direct the rest of the workers for the time being. O.B., Casey, and Victor split off once they’re out of the room, likely heading to R&A to get started on some of the tasks Gamble has asked them to prioritize. This leaves Loki and Mobius standing alone in the war room’s waiting area, neither wanting to suggest they split up as well, but not really having an excuse to stick together, either.

Loki should know by now, though, that Mobius would never leave Loki to his own devices if he can help it. “Listen, I’m not sure how much longer B-15’ll be stuck in there, and I can’t really get started on anything else without her. Do you wanna take a breather? I haven’t been back to my room in a while, it’d be nice to sit down for a minute, maybe grab a fresh pair of socks. Keep me company?” The smile on Mobius’ face is almost conspiratorial, but the exhaustion in his features tells Loki that he definitely needs a break.

Loki nods, hoping his answering smile and sigh of relief communicate how much he needs it, too.

Chapter Text

Stepping through the doorway into Mobius’ room, Loki realizes all at once that he hadn’t known this area of the TVA existed.

He supposes it makes sense; it’s a big place, though he can practically count on one hand the amount of rooms he’s set foot in, before now.

It also makes him acutely aware of the fact that none of them have really had the time to take a break ever since his arrest all that time ago. While he and Mobius were searching for Sylvie the first time around, most of their time had been spent in the TVA archives, napping at their desks or on some nearby, unsuspecting sofa. Even the period between solving his time-slipping problem and heading back out to search for Sylvie again had mostly been spent in the TVA’s infirmary, and if Mobius slipped off to his own room for a bit, Loki must not have noticed.

Really, there hadn’t been much down time since he first arrived here—it’s just that it feels like it’s been so long, and he supposes it has, considering all the time he spent attempting to fix the Loom.

Even before that though, with the way he felt himself get attached to his little ragtag group of TVA agents, it seems like a lot more time should have passed. He guesses part of it is just the sheer amount of emotional turmoil they’ve been through together, practically forcing them to be closer than any other group of people in such a short amount of time (maybe save for the Avengers, if he’s being generous). The circumstances haven’t been normal at all, so maybe he shouldn’t be trying to figure out whether they’re meeting standards for regular social situations.

Regardless, he hadn’t stopped to think about where all the workers go when they aren’t hunting down variants or making macaroni art with the Tesseract, and so he definitely hasn’t seen Mobius’ room before.

At first glance, he can tell that they’re not allowed to personalize very much, as the walls and the flooring all match the rest of the TVA’s monotonous interior design. There’s only one window, and its vinyl blinds are drawn shut, the light peeking through them only just saving the room from total darkness. A bed and two side tables sit to the right, one table piled with magazines Loki knows, without looking, all contain the beautiful union of form and function. The other has a lamp, an empty glass, and several rings soaked into the wood, not a coaster to be found, along with a pair of wired glasses he’s never seen Mobius wear.

Across from the bed is a fairly large wooden armoire, taking up a good chunk of the space. The only other pieces of furniture in the room are a desk and chair sitting in front of the window. Some stray bits of paper and a pencil cup sit on top of the desk, but other than that it looks fairly unused. That makes sense, Loki thinks; even if he was working long hours, Mobius would prefer to be around other people, to burn out his oil at his desk in the bullpen or a table in the archive, rather than shut himself away completely.

He’s glad the bed at least looks lived in—it pains him to think that Mobius’ entire existence has been endless work, that he never took a break or allowed time for himself, all in the name of an authority built on deception and corruption. He’ll get time now, though—Loki will make sure of it.

Mobius goes to grab the glass from the bedside table, quickly reaching out to squeeze Loki’s arm as he slides past. “Please, sit down wherever, make yourself comfortable.” He walks back around as Loki sits on the side of the bed and through a narrow door that Loki hadn’t noticed at first. When Mobius turns the light on inside, it floods the rest of the room. Loki hears a sink turn on as Mobius calls back, “Do you want any water?”

Now, Loki has been through quite a lot in his long life; he’s suffered and he’s lost, and he thinks he’d still do it all again if it led him back to the man standing just through that door. That is to say, Loki would do a lot of things for Mobius, and he likes to think Mobius knows that.

However, some lines are not to be crossed, and Loki finds that one of them is drinking tap water from a bathroom in a place that took one look at 1970s American interior office design and proceeded to never have a second thought.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Loki replies, aiming to keep the disgust out of his tone and missing by miles.

“Suit yourself,” Mobius says with a laugh. “We won’t stay long anyway, I just wanted to grab a few things. We can hit the automat on the way back if you feel up to it.”

“Alright.”

While Mobius continues moving around in the bathroom, Loki notices just how—blank the rest of the room is. There are a couple posters on the walls, but they’re all ones he’s seen in the hallways, reminding everyone that a tidy timeline keeps society stable, or, even more menacing, a picture of a man in the shadows, ‘always watching.’ There aren’t any photos, not even cutouts of jetskis from the magazines Mobius apparently keeps everywhere. If he had just been passing by, Loki would say it looks like no one lives here at all.

It makes him uncomfortable, knowing this is the only space Mobius has had to call his own for his entire life. He’s one of the brightest, kindest people Loki has ever known, and the TVA, under the direction of He Who Remains, has done its best to erase that, to reduce him to a number, a statistic, a cog in the system that only matters to the extent that it works effectively and efficiently.

In reality, though, Mobius is a person. And not just in the sense that he’s a variant of someone on the timeline, because he isn’t a man named Don; he’s Mobius, and he likes jetskis and key lime pie. He refers to Loki as a pussycat, and he never uses a coaster, and he has a moral compass stronger than most of the bastards running around on the timeline anyway. He deserves a space that represents all of him, not just the parts the TVA has use for. He deserves to have and to be whatever he likes, and Loki is so tired of seeing the people he cares about be told otherwise, told that they have a set path and to stray from it would be to invite chaos into all their lives. That was never a burden any of them should have borne, and Sylvie left with the intent that they would no longer have to. Loki thinks the least he can do now is make sure the people he cares about can live unrestricted, unburdened, and with the expression of free will she had fought for.

He feels the urge to place himself between Mobius and everything that’s ever threatened him. He wants to hunt Renslayer down once more and make her suffer for all that she’s done, for everything she did to make Mobius feel inadequate; wants to go back to He Who Remains and be the one to run his dagger through the man himself.

It would help nothing, though. Inciting violence isn’t a solution, and he knows this, so he fights off the instincts he has to hail down retribution on the people who have wronged him. The best thing he can do now is to help rebuild alongside the people he has left; he can show gratitude to a version of himself that taught him the meaning of sacrifice in a way that wasn’t a loss, and he can use the chance she gave all of them to live, and to make sure Mobius does, too.

It’s funny, Loki thinks, to realize he won’t let vengeance determine his next steps any longer. The version of him that arrived at the TVA would hardly recognize him. He hardly recognizes himself, honestly, but somehow, it’s not the tragedy he once might’ve thought it to be.

Mobius turns the light in the bathroom off as he walks back out, sending the rest of the room back into darkness. By the dim light coming through the blinds, Loki watches him go to the armoire to retrieve a bag before moving to sit down on the bed beside Loki and placing it behind him.

“Listen,” Mobius says, adjusting a little so he’s turned towards Loki, “I know I said you didn’t have to tell me about what happened until you were ready, and I stand by that. If you want, I’ll shut up right now and we can head down to the automat.”

When Loki doesn’t say anything, Mobius smiles a bit, and rests a hand on Loki’s knee in a gesture that he’s sure is meant to be comforting, and it is, but it also sets Loki on fire.

“I was thinking, though, if you did feel ready to talk about it, now might be a good time. I mean, things are still kind of in limbo, and we’re not in the middle of some huge disaster at the moment, which is kind of unusual for us.”

Loki chuckles a bit at that, and his eyes catch on the laughter lines by Mobius’ eyes as he does the same. Gods, does happiness look this breathtaking on everyone? Loki genuinely doesn’t think so.

“So anyway, seeing as, for once, we’re not in crisis mode, and the TVA is not about to self-destruct, we have a minute before we head into the next part, and I was wondering if you wanted to take advantage of that? It doesn’t have to be everything, but it’d probably be good for you to get some of it off your chest. And it’d definitely be good for me at least to have some idea of what happened, because honestly I don’t know what the shit you were thinking.”

Mobius tries to force some humour into that last bit, but Loki can see there’s genuine concern in his expression; he hadn’t even thought about what it must’ve looked like to Mobius and everyone else in the control room—hadn’t had the time to, really. There’s some parts he couldn’t explain even if he wanted to—Sylvie took those explanations with her—but he figures he owes Mobius the things he can. And as he said, now’s as good a time as any.

So Loki nods, takes a deep breath as he looks down for a moment, but he meets Mobius’ eyes when he starts talking. “The time slipping came back. There was a point where… the Loom was destroyed. We—I failed, and the Loom was destroyed and the TVA with it, and everyone was gone. Then, suddenly, it… wasn’t.”

Loki watches as the expression on Mobius’ face turns from alarm, to distress, to surprise, as he describes being ripped throughout the timelines, finally finding O.B. and learning to control his time-slipping.

“After that, I kept going back to that moment in the control room, trying to move faster, to fix everything that went wrong, and when that didn’t work I went back earlier. I tried, quite literally hundreds of times, to fix the Loom and eventually I had to accept that there was nothing I could do; the Loom was always going to be destroyed. So I went back further. I went back to the Citadel, to when the timelines started branching and it all started to go wrong, and I spoke with He Who Remains. He told me that the Loom was a failsafe. He put it in place to ensure nothing but the Sacred Timeline could be sustained, so if the timelines ever branched like they did, it would overload and destroy everything with it.”

He pauses, now; seeing the sadness on Mobius’ face forces him to take a breath—though it’s over, he still remembers the hopelessness he felt, and seeing it reflected back to him in the pale blue eyes that so often bring him comfort is even more painful than the first time.

“There was no way around it; without the Loom, there could be no timelines, but the Loom could only handle one of them. I—I didn’t know what to do, so I—I—”

Mobius slips his hand into Loki’s, grounding him, reminding him to take a breath, so he does.

“It was… impossible. I went to Sylvie and I told her everything, that it was the Sacred Timeline or nothing, and she essentially told me that was bullshit.” He laughs, breathlessly, to remember it now. “She said that the Sacred Timeline was already so full of death and sorrow, that you can’t doom people to a fate like that and strip away their free will; she said that living in apocalypses taught her that sometimes it’s okay to destroy something. And I didn’t know what to do with that, because to destroy the Loom would be to destroy everything, but then I think we both realized that maybe we could replace it with something—something better, something powerful and unrestricted by the parameters set by He Who Remains, and… Well, there wasn’t really much of a conversation after that.”

He’s looking down, to where their fingers are tangled together, unable to meet Mobius’ eyes where he knows he would be met with sadness, or maybe worse than that, pity. Mobius doesn’t force him to.

“That’s when you both made a beeline for the Loom?” Mobius guesses.

Loki nods. “Yes. When I went back to the control room, she was with me that time. I managed to get her to talk to me, before she walked away, but…” He trails off, unsure how to describe what happened next—everything that was said and everything that wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” Mobius says eventually, when he’s been quiet for a few moments. “We don’t have to get into that. When she walked down the gangway, though, did you know what was going to happen?”

“Not entirely,” Loki admits. “I knew she was going to destroy the Loom, but beyond that I don’t think either of us knew what to expect. I don’t know where she went either, but when she was heading toward that—opening, I knew she was leaving for good, and she was taking the branches with her. She’ll sustain them now; we won’t need a Loom or a knitting needle or something ridiculous like that. It’s just Sylvie. She protects the branches now. She’s Yggdrasil.”

“Um… bless you?”

Loki laughs a little. “Nevermind. What’s important is that she’s giving us a chance, one He Who Remains never wanted us to have, and we don’t have to worry about losing it; she’ll be okay. I think maybe we all will.”

When a few seconds pass without Mobius saying anything, Loki risks looking up again, and when he does, he finds he’s looking into deep, clear pools of blue, and he remembers to breathe.

Mobius’ voice is a whisper when he says, “Thank you for telling me.” A gentle smile forms on his face, and his gaze doesn’t falter. Loki doesn’t look away this time either, feels like something might shatter if he does, and it’s something so pure and delicate that Loki fears he would break right along with it.

He’s suddenly aware of how close they’re sitting together, of how gentle but firm Mobius’ hand is in his own. Not long ago, he would have registered this kind of proximity to another person as a threat; Loki feels the walls he used to throw up so readily start to shift within him, but he forces them to stay put. He won’t let them control him anymore, not when they would prevent him from holding so much that is precious to him.

“I’m afraid…” He can barely bring his voice above a whisper. “I’m afraid because I think a part of me went with her. I’m afraid because… I don’t know if it’s a part of me I needed.”

Mobius lets that sit between them for a moment, his eyes still refusing to leave Loki’s, and at first Loki is worried he won’t say anything at all. But then he says something that eases Loki’s soul, tamps down on the fear threatening to burn him from within. “If there is a part of you that went with her, then it’s a part of you that belongs there. It’s not something you lost, it’s just… something that’s found its place.”

Loki feels his eyebrows knit together as the tears start to form in his eyes, the need for Mobius’ words to be true almost consuming him.

They’re so close together that if either of them moved forward a little, their noses would touch; it’s magnetic, the way Loki wants to close the space between them. He knows that if he were to do so, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from moving further, until they’ve fallen right over the precipice of everything sitting between them and find themselves within something entirely new, and it would be beautiful; it will be beautiful. But Loki becomes viscerally aware of all the broken parts of him that sit right underneath his skin. If a piece of him left when Sylvie did, then he thinks it left the rest of him on the verge of falling apart. He feels the scrape of it with every movement, with every breath, and if he’s too close to Mobius when it finally breaks the surface, then he won’t be the only one who gets hurt by it.

So as much as he might yearn to fall over that edge, he knows it would cause too much damage when there are sharp, jagged pieces threatening to tear him apart if he moves too quickly.

He ignored it as he felt these parts of him start to break; ignored it every time a crack gave way within him under the pressure, the force of everything he’s been through and everything he’s done, but he can’t ignore it anymore. Not when he has so much to lose in a way he doesn’t think he has before.

For now, he continues to hold himself together, keeps contained everything within him that threatens to break free, and he can let Mobius hold him, too, when he worries he’s not strong enough. Just a while longer, until he can find a way to heal instead.

He does so now—falling forward to hide his face in Mobius’ neck, he allows Mobius to take over for a moment. He feels a hand reach up to hold the back of his head, gentle fingers entangling themselves in his hair, and he lets himself be held together for a little while longer.

“Imagine how fun it would be, though!”

“I don’t know about you, but my idea of fun doesn’t generally involve being in such close quarters with that much of Tony Stark’s cologne. I already know what a room with two of him in it smells like, I can’t imagine it’s any better when he’s consistently stood right next to you.”

Mobius waves a dismissive hand over the table as he uses the other to take a bite of his sandwich. “Oh, please, you’d get used to it. Besides, when you’re doing all the crime-fighting stuff he’ll be in the suit anyway; you wouldn’t be able to smell him.”

“I suppose so,” Loki allows. “However, he’s not even the biggest problem. It’d be bad enough to be living on Midgard on a permanent basis, but to have the personification of the American Dream walking around? I’d never get a break from all the speeches about justice and fighting for my country and doing the right thing. It’d be a nightmare. And to be around my brother all the time?” Loki lets out an exasperated sigh. “He’s insufferable. I’d be back to villainy within a week.”

Mobius fixes him with a glare that says he’s deeply unimpressed.

Loki throws his hands up. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Mobius puts his own hands up in mock surrender. “I just think that hanging out with your brother would be less of a hardship for you than you’re making it sound.”

Loki scoffs as he crosses his arms. “Please. He’s an oaf. I don’t know why the Midgardians tolerate his presence, let alone his active participation in world-saving efforts. By all accounts, that obnoxious tower should’ve been destroyed as a result of him tripping over his own hammer by now.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk sneaking onto his face. “Mhm. Fine then, if not joining the Avengers, what about… Ancient Greece, or something cool like that?” He pops the last of his sandwich into his mouth and wipes his hands on his trousers.

“Are you joking?” Loki can hear the offense in his own voice. “The only thing I’d accomplish there is drinking enough of their wine to drown out all their worship to inferior gods.”

He’s fairly certain he can hear the eye-roll Mobius gives him.

“In any case,” he says, distinctly ignoring the other man’s antics, “I’ve already seen most of the more notable periods of Midgardian history; Thor and I certainly took it upon ourselves to visit often enough. I’ve seen everything from Ancient Greece to William Shakespeare to the abhorrent waste of tea that was the American Revolution. Trust me, none of it is conducive to unveiling my glorious purpose or whatever it is we’re trying to sort out.”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to sort out, and you know it,” Mobius admonishes. “Not Earth then? Alright, I mean you could try your hand at the whole ‘frost giant’ thing if you felt like branching out.”

This time it’s Loki’s turn to look unimpressed.

“Too soon? Alright, yeah, fair enough.” Loki can see the humour all over Mobius’ face—he’s clearly having a grand old time throwing outlandish suggestions at Loki in an attempt to either, a) get Loki to admit what it is he wants to do, or b) distract him from all the recent emotional upheaval he has yet to address. Maybe it’s a bit of both, maybe the two are related; either way, Loki doesn’t really mind. It’s nice, having someone care about what happens to him.

The distraction works both ways, though—Loki knows there’s a lot Mobius isn’t saying. He gets it if he’s avoiding the topic of his own departure; maybe he doesn’t want Loki worrying about it, which is ridiculous. He should know Loki will worry about it whether they address it or not. Mobius has been good at letting Loki talk through things at his own pace, though, so Loki won’t force him. If there’s one thing Loki can do, it’s provide a distraction.

“What do you think, then?” He asks, a smirk of his own growing on his face. “We’ve talked about it enough that surely you must have some opinion of what my glorious purpose is.”

The smile on Mobius’ face grows. “I dunno, I mean I still think King of Space sounds like a fun idea. I guess Thanos kind of tried that though, and look how it turned out for that guy.”

“Technically,” Loki cuts in, “he did actually succeed. For five years, the universe’s population was decreased by half. And who knows, now that the timelines are branching, there’s a very good chance he’s out there somewhere having made his success permanent. Say… an unlucky projectile finds its way to Tony Stark, and the Avengers never figure out time travel. Unlimited possibilities.” That last part comes out more wistfully than he intended.

“Unlimited possibilities,” Mobius echoes, after a moment. “And therein lies the problem.”

They both fall silent for a few minutes, the weight of it sitting between them. Loki thinks that’s part of what’s getting to him now, because sure, growing up, most people are told they can do anything, can be anything they put their minds to, but to know for certain? To know he could go anywhere, start any life he chooses in the endeavour to create an existence that is truly meaningful? It’s suffocating, in practice, to have all these choices.

After a while, Mobius shrugs. “I guess it’s not the worst problem to have, if you think about it. As opposed to the alternative…”

“Yes, well, the alternative did involve several humiliating losses for me, losses that were all predetermined, it seems.” Loki sighs, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table. “I think it’s just hard because even now, with all these possibilities, the most important role I could’ve held, one that could possibly have made up for all the things that I’ve done, was meant for someone else. I mean, sure, it could have gone either way, but at a certain point we agreed that it wasn’t going to be me. And, honestly, that’s great for her. I would never take that away from her, but anything I could do now just seems so trivial, you know? It was—it was naive, really, of me to think that—”

“Oh, would you stop with that!” Mobius cuts in abruptly, causing Loki to flinch back in his chair. “God, I’m sorry, I really am, but if I have to hear one more time about how you’re useless because you weren’t the one to sacrifice yourself on that gangway, I might smack you.”

“Mobius, what—”

“No. Listen to me for a second. I understand how upsetting it is, not knowing your purpose, or what to do with your long ass life, especially now that something else has been taken away from you, but fucking hell, Loki, have you ever thought that you don’t need to die to achieve it? That it doesn’t have to be something as dramatic as giving up your autonomy to be meaningful? Your purpose can be anything!”

Mobius is leaning across the table now, gesturing with his hands as he speaks as though he can mould understanding out of thin air and place it in Loki’s palms.

“I have to believe that everyone has one, that everyone’s life has meaning, and is free will not proof of that? Every action has some sort of reaction, and now that people are allowed to act freely, I think that’s even more impactful. The reaction isn’t predetermined anymore, you never know what it’s going to be, but you know it will be something. So I won’t accept that the only way your existence has some great purpose is if it ends in tragedy. I refuse to believe that’s true.”

Mobius sits back in his chair, deflating a little as he rubs his hands over his face. He can’t seem to meet Loki’s gaze anymore.

When he speaks next, his voice is much smaller, and it breaks something deep in Loki’s chest to find the shame hidden there as well. “Do you know what it was like for me? To be trapped behind that door? To not know whether you would be walking back through it?”

Loki says nothing, because he doesn’t. Hadn’t given it much thought past the regret of not getting to say goodbye.

“Loki, I had no idea what was happening. None of us did. All I saw was you and Sylvie fighting each other to get outside even though it was filled with temporal radiation, and for all I knew it would kill you the second you stepped out those doors. I had no idea if I was watching you walk away from me for the last time, if I would get to see you again without a stupid door in the way, if I would ever touch you—hold you again…”

He takes a deep breath, and Loki sees him swipe at his eyes, before lifting his head to look at him. “I know for you, it was devastating to watch Sylvie walk away, to just turn around and come inside and give up what seemed like your purpose, but for me? Loki, for me it was a goddamn miracle.”

Another crack sounds from somewhere underneath Loki’s skin.

Mobius reaches up to swipe at the tears starting to form in his eyes again. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I—I’m sorry, okay? I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but I can’t even tell you how relieved it makes me to think that maybe it wasn’t meant to be you. Because if it wasn’t, then maybe… maybe there’s a chance you’re meant to stay here with—with me.” His eyes widen for a second when his words seem to catch up with him. “Not here here, I mean, just—I meant here as in not there, not in the middle of a time-tree or… whatever.”

He smiles sheepishly, but it doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“All I mean is… you can be whatever—whoever—you want to be, and I’ll support whatever it is you want to do. But I won’t sit here and pretend that I’m okay with the idea that you’re meant to give it all up in the name of something bigger than yourself. It’s too much to ask of anyone, and no one expects it from you except yourself, so… please don’t make me live through that again.”

Usually, Mobius is the one to initiate contact between them. It’s instinctive to him, in a way it just isn’t with Loki, or maybe he just didn’t have enough practice before, what with all the self isolation. He finds it doesn’t take a single thought now, though, to reach across the table between them and take Mobius’ hands in his own.

As soon as he does, their eyes meet, and Loki refuses to let his gaze break when he goes to speak, feeling the significance his words will hold to the man sitting across from him.

“I won’t,” he promises. Maybe he’s being naive once more, but he finds it doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would to say those words and to mean them. “I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore. I’m sorry, Mobius.”

Mobius squeezes his hands a little. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he says, quiet but earnest.

He feels the weight of the things left unsaid between them, but it feels less heavy now. It feels bearable. He knows now that both of them are hurt, are picking up the pieces left behind by a shattered past, but he also knows now that it’s something they can do together. There are pieces that can be shared, empty spaces that don’t always need to be filled, and the chance to create new parts of themselves in the absence of what they lost; of what they never got to have.

The important part now is that they’re together, and if nothing else, Loki knows he can commit to that. For all he’s adrift in his own sense of purpose and the uncertainty of where he should go, he can make a vow to himself and to Mobius that he won’t run, and he can keep it.

For the first time, he knows for certain that there is someone more important than his own fears, because for Mobius, he’ll face them gladly.

Chapter Text

A few more chairs have been filled around the triangular table, now. B-15 still has her place beside Judge Gamble, Casey sits next to the other judge who still doesn’t so much as stir as people move around him, and Mobius has taken his own spot at the far left corner. There’s also another analyst now, seated between B-15 and Lieutenant Byrne, that Loki has vague memories of seeing around in the hallways.

Loki and Victor are sitting in two extra chairs at the back of the room. The only person their group is missing is O.B., who opted to stay down in R&A—Casey has already volunteered, enthusiastically, to fill him in later.

Loki’s having a hard time paying attention to what Gamble is saying, to be honest. She’s going over the new protocols that have been approved by the council and those that have been discontinued. She also got Byrne to report on the progress of their team’s efforts to remove all pruning devices from the field.

Apparently, when Dox’s sympathizers were rounded up, a few stragglers remained hidden throughout the rest of the agents. Byrne is confident they’re all in custody now, and they’ve obtained warrants to search their rooms and belongings for remaining Time Sticks and modified TemPads, so any threat to the safety of those on and off the timelines has been highly mitigated.

The only loose end at the moment is Hunter X-05—Brad. No one’s seen Brad since Sylvie enchanted him when they took Victor back, and Loki certainly hasn’t run into him, so they can only assume he escaped to the timelines once more. Without General Dox or Renslayer around, he doesn’t have much room to cause more trouble—not counting Zaniac 2, of course—but Loki knows the analysts will keep watch for him anyway, just in case.

For the most part, though, everyone at the TVA has been adjusting well to the new state of the timelines and, consequently, the authority’s goals for their maintenance and protection. From what Loki has heard, around a quarter of the TVA workers have expressed interest in returning to a life on the timelines, so the loss in personnel will be accounted for going forward. Those who intend to remain have, rather reasonably, concerns about the treatment of agents and the overall management of the different departments.

Even when the TVA had more frequent fires to put out with branched timelines, the way people were treated here was, frankly, less than humane. One of the first mandates to be created under this new management is a restriction of consecutive working time, which now approximates to about 7.5 timeline hours, with multiple breaks required. Not all the necessary resources were readily available, but there are also plans to expand the automat and designate spaces for leisure, as well as allow personal spaces to be customized and made to accommodate each individual.

It’s not a bad start, Loki thinks, but there’s still a long way to go.

He finds that a symptom of working at the TVA for so long is a fierce sense of loyalty, and that alone seems to be incentivizing most of the workers to stay. It’s not loyalty to the TVA—no, that went out the window for most of them if not when the truth of their origins was revealed, then through everything that’s happened since. It’s loyalty to each other, a reluctance to leave the people they’ve been surrounded by their whole lives, and isn’t that reason enough to stay? As much as they’ve been hurt by He Who Remains’ rule, there isn’t much to be changed about it now, and if they’re not comfortable with the thought of starting over again, then Loki thinks it makes perfect sense for them to seek comfort—stability with each other.

Maybe one day, more of them will venture out and reclaim their lives by taking their place on the timelines, but until then, the TVA will keep working to become a better place for them to exist.

He’s not sure about the others yet, if they’ll ever change their minds about staying, but he knows Mobius will leave one day. He hasn’t said it, but Loki knows anyway.

Mobius is… different, now. Not in a way that’s detrimental, or would be obvious to someone who spends less time with him than Loki does, but it’s true all the same. There’s less of a sparkle in his eyes when he laughs, a longing in his gaze that wasn’t there before Loki had so suddenly and brazenly announced to him that he was a variant back when he and Sylvie had been brought in from Lamentis-1.

He feels badly about that now, how carelessly the words fell out of his mouth when he knew they would change the lives of so many. It had been in anger, in desperation, because isn’t that always how it goes? He says something he knows will give the other person pause, knows the exact right place to aim his sharp blades, and he strikes. He’d done it then, just as he’d done it with Thor, Sif, Fandral, their entire lives—with every Avenger he could sink his teeth into. He’d even done it to his mother, in the end—or a version of him had.

He’d done it because he’s so good at it; the satisfaction in knowing you have your opponent in the exact right spot to cause the most harm with one swing, in knowing you understand them better than they do themselves, in getting to be the person who stands victorious atop the remains of their shattered reality—it’s addicting.

But there’s something Loki understands now, an idea he knows would have been foreign to him not so long ago, and it’s that not everyone is his opponent. Sure, there might always be people who aim to hurt him, but he knows now that there are also the people who never will. Mobius is one of those people, and Loki had brought his reality crashing to the ground anyway. If there’s one thing he’s grateful for, in all of this—in being left in shambles while fate rejected him once more—it’s that he can make sure that he never hurts Mobius again.

And so he knows, eventually, Mobius will leave. He thinks it’ll be a while yet, because Mobius cares about these people too—about B-15 and Casey and O.B., and would never leave them when there’s work to be done, would never deprive them, or himself, of a proper goodbye. One day though, he’ll leave, because he’s meant for more than this; more importantly, he wants more than this and so Loki will make sure he has it. He won’t beg for him to stay, even knowing he might do so for Loki, because he’s done with cruelty. He meant it when he said he wanted to put something ahead of his own desires, and he thinks that of anything in this world, Mobius is important enough that he could manage it.

For now, though, in the midst of a council meeting he’s long since stopped paying attention to, he basks in having time with Mobius, in having them all together and within his reach because one day soon, he might not be able to.

“Mr. Laufeyson…?” The world around him forces itself back into focus as everyone in the room stares at him.

He gets a sharp elbow to the arm before he can respond. “Loki,” Mobius whispers a bit harshly. Loki shoots him his best glare.

“Yes, sorry, what was that?” He says, looking to Gamble now. He hears a chuckle come from somewhere that sounds suspiciously like Byrne’s direction.

“…Right. Mr. Laufeyson, you indicated to Hunter B-15 that you have some… expertise to offer? To Ouroboros and the R&A department?” Gamble says, in a tone that’s not entirely unsuspicious.

“Oh, right, yes. It’s actually Odinson, by the way. But yes, I spent some time studying mechanics, physics, and engineering, specializing in temporal theory and application, and a side study into horology. That’s not to say that I’m anywhere near the expert Ouroboros is, but I figured I might be able to lend a hand, as it were, what with all the required reprogramming of the TemPads and the TVA’s internal systems.”

Gamble fixes him with a look that’s definitely not unsuspicious. “I’m… sure he would appreciate the help. As you know, Casey has been assigned part-time to R&A for assistant work but I’m sure Ouroboros could use someone who understands the system functionality as he does, especially with Mr. Timely planning to head back to his timeline shortly…” She pauses, clearly wondering whether she wants to ask, and apparently deciding she does. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall seeing these studies in your file. When did you—”

“Oh, no, this wouldn’t have been in my file. This was only recent.” He can feel Mobius and Victor staring at him, and he can only imagine the confused looks on their faces. From where he’s sitting, Casey looks largely unsurprised, as though he’s trained himself not to react to the random shit that falls out of Loki’s mouth. He probably has.

“Alright, then… Well, seeing as I’m no expert myself, I’ll leave it to Ouroboros to judge the efficacy of these newfound—skills for himself. Your request to be placed in R&A is approved.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Loki says, giving her the most genuine grin he can muster.

Gamble narrows her eyes at him in response. She sighs and looks over to the analyst beside B-15. “Speaking of Mr. Timely’s departure, I believe we are ready to finalize the process for transferring individuals back to the timeline. With Mr. Timely, in particular,” she turns to look at Victor now, “we’ll be able to open a Time Door to the moment you were brought here. We’ve reviewed your request to have your memories of the TVA left unmodified and, given your work with the TVA handbook and the events of the control room, we’ve approved the request.”

Beside him, Victor rocks forward in his seat, a huge grin on his face. “Th-thank you, m-ma’am.”

“That’s conditional, of course, on your signing of a non-disclosure agreement of sorts that Tarian has drafted. A copy has been printed for you and you’ll have the chance to review it before you sign and return it to us.” 

The analyst—Tarian—reaches over to slide the document to Victor. 

“Its purpose is to ensure the continued anonymity of the TVA and its functions. In an effort to remain effective, the TVA’s policy of allowing our existence to be known only to those with whom we deal with directly will be maintained, despite our operations having a slightly altered purpose. We are no longer tracking activity of individuals that does not comply with the former Sacred Timeline; we are monitoring for dangerous activity that may pose a threat to the existence of the multiverse, such as the work of the variants of He Who Remains that resulted in the first multiversal war and the creation of the TVA.”

Gamble folds her hands together and seems to straighten in her chair as she addresses the room.

“Our priority is the safety and protection of the timelines, including the free will of the people within them. However, should the actions of any individual pose a threat to one or more branches, or to the TVA itself, we may see fit to intervene.”

Loki knew all this, already. The council has been very clear that the only people they plan to bring into the TVA going forward are those who actively threaten the branches and the free will of everyone on them. Essentially, they’re looking to make sure there isn’t a repeat of He Who Remains’ mad grab for power.

Given his—propensity toward this sort of thing, a team of analysts has been assigned to specifically monitor the variants of He Who Remains and ensure potential threats are mitigated. Mobius was asked to lead this team—along with his position on the council—so Loki’s sure if there’s any kind of nefarious plans brewing, he’ll know about it. For now, at least.

“Alright, that is all I have on the agenda for today’s meeting. Do any council members or guests have anything to address?”

Casey raises his hand, though he does so with a bit of a tremor.

Gamble nods towards him. “Councilor?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Casey says, folding his hands on the table in front of him, clearly aiming for more confidence than he’s felt in his life. “Ouroboros wanted me to let the council know that he’s started looking into—” He lowers his voice a bit. “The Miss Minutes Project. He doesn’t have a firm answer but he’s optimistic that he can get her functioning again. You know, in a not-a-threat-to-the-multiverse-as-we-know-it kind of way,” he adds with a slight chuckle.

“Excellent,” Gamble says, smiling kindly at him. “Thank you for the update, councilor. You can inform Ouroboros that his work on the project is appreciated, and to let us know of any further progress made on that front.”

Casey nods. “Yes, ma’am, will do!”

“Anyone else?” Gamble asks. “No? Alright then, thank you all for your time today. We’ll be in touch, I’m sure. This meeting is adjourned.”

As soon as Gamble’s done speaking, B-15 rises from her chair to open one of the doors at the front for her to leave through. Everyone else files out at a more leisurely pace, save for the sleeping judge—does he just live here? Loki wonders—and Victor quickly begs off to head back down to R&A. Casey looks like he’s about to follow when B-15 says, “Would you guys mind hanging back a sec?”

They follow her back into the war room, not straying too far from the door. The four of them stand in a bit of a circle, the unconscious form behind B-15 left unbothered.

B-15 looks a bit nervous, chewing at her bottom lip, but her arms are relaxed at her sides. “So, you guys probably noticed that I’ve been working with Judge Gamble more often, ever since the timelines started branching. She’s been really good about implementing all these positive changes to the TVA and making sure Dox’s way of thinking doesn’t make it too far up the chain of command. The council was kind of a mess for a while there, with Renslayer gone and then what happened with Dox…”

Loki sees a bit of sorrow on her face now, and it only just occurs to him that she was the one to find all those Minutemen, killed without a second thought by someone who was meant to be on their side.

She quickly shakes it off. “Anyway, the council’s reforming now, with the three of us on it, as well as Tarian and Lieutenant Byrne, but I guess there’s still an open judgeship because of Renslayer and…” She looks down, before turning to face Mobius. “Gamble asked me to fill it.”

Loki’s glad she wasn’t looking at him when she said it, as he isn’t quite in control of his facial features, but luckily Mobius is much more composed. He reaches out to grasp B-15’s shoulder, using his other hand to shake her own enthusiastically. “Hey, that’s great news! Congratulations B-15, that’s excellent. Really, you deserve it. I can’t think of anyone better to be behind that bench.” 

Casey’s stretched out an arm of his own to shake her other shoulder, nodding and smiling along with Mobius, echoing his praises.

B-15 smiles tightly at both of them before she turns to face Loki, Mobius’ hand still on her shoulder. He’s not used to seeing her so unsure, as if Loki’s reaction might determine her fate—it’s disarming, really.

Loki holds his hand out in front of him in offering. When she takes it, he uses his other hand to cover the back of hers. “Congratulations,” he says softly, hoping the smile on his face is enough to reassure her that yes, she is doing the right thing. When he gets the chance, he’ll tell her as much.

Her face relaxes a bit as she smiles. “Thank you.” She clears her throat, then turns to look at both Casey and Mobius again. “Thank you all.” 

Loki releases her hand and she slips it into her pocket.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know, before I officially accepted the position or anything. Obviously there are big changes to the judges’ responsibilities, but from what I understand, I can still be involved with the analysts’ projects, like Renslayer used to be to some degree.”

Loki catches the way Mobius sheepishly retracts his arm to scratch the side of his head as she says it.

“The actual judging part won’t really come into play unless we start bringing in dangerous variants again, but… I’m excited.” B-15’s smiling with her whole face now. “It’s important to me that things change for the better around here and it’ll be much easier to make sure that happens from a position like this.”

“Hell yeah, it will,” Mobius chimes in, having regained his composure, clapping her lightly on the back once more.

The group falls into silence for a bit, just on the verge of awkward—Loki’s suddenly very interested in the material of his shoes.

Mobius clears his throat. “Hey Casey, why don’t we try and catch up with Victor; we’ll go give O.B. the sparknotes for today.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” Casey says, nodding. He squeezes B-15’s arm before turning to follow Mobius. “Congrats, again.”

B-15 smiles at the two of them as they leave, turning back to face Loki as the door falls shut behind them. “Should we sit?” She asks.

Loki chuckles, unsure if he should meet her eye. “May as well,” he says.

He follows as she returns to her chair, gesturing for Loki to take Tarian’s. They both seem to take extra time to adjust in their seats—he crosses his legs as she rests an elbow on the table, clasped hands held in front of her.

A beat passes, then a few; the only sound in the room is the occasional snort indicating the judge is showing signs of life—the other judge, Loki amends, because B-15 is one now too.

When the silence becomes more awkward than anything Loki can think of to say, he goes to speak. “So—”

“I was—”

They both laugh weakly, just missing each others’ eyelines.

“Please, go ahead,” Loki says, gesturing towards her.

B-15 nods, her expression growing more solemn. “I was just going to say… I’m sorry. For your loss.”

Loki feels his eyebrows draw together in his confusion. There were a few things he had prepared himself to hear, but that hadn’t been one of them. “For Sylvie, you mean?”

She nods again, more tentative this time, his confusion clearly giving her pause. “Yes, I—realized I hadn’t actually said it before now, and I know you two were—close, so I just wanted you to know that… I am sorry.”

Ah, Loki thinks. That’s what this is about. “Thank you,” he says, with as much sincerity as he ever has. “She and I were close, yes, and I will miss her friendship.”

B-15’s eyes widen a bit as she realizes her own misunderstanding. She smiles a bit sheepishly as she says, “Sorry. I don’t know why I thought you two were—”

“Oh, I think a lot of people did,” Loki interrupts, knowing she can see the amusement on his face. “It wasn’t like that between us; it was easy enough to see that when we weren’t so caught up in the thrill of the great escape. We’re just… the same, really, though I suppose you know that well enough.” He tries not to sound bitter as he says it.

B-15 shakes her head slightly, her own eyebrows narrowing as she considers her next words. “No, I don’t think you are, at least not entirely.”

“No?”

She looks more sure now, when she speaks. “No. You aren’t the same, I don’t think. I mean, sure, technically you started out as the same person, but other than a similar nature, a way of thinking maybe, you stopped being the same a long time ago.” She shifts so she sits up a bit straighter. “I think the people we meet tend to bring out different parts of us, sometimes parts we know are there, sometimes not. You two just brought out something very similar in each other, something fundamental that you hadn’t seen plainly in a long time. So it makes sense that you were drawn to each other, because why wouldn’t you want to be around someone you recognize so much of yourself in? That’s human nature, isn’t it?”

Loki considers that for a moment, the way people tend to bring out different sides of each other, whether due to a sense of comfort or sheer force of will. Then it dawns on him, the way B-15 meant it.

“She brought something out in you, too.” He leans forward a bit, almost as if to reach out to her, but the contact isn’t necessary between them—not the way it would be with Mobius. “Something you hadn’t known was there—she showed you another version of yourself you hadn’t known to look for.”

She finally meets his eyes, and he can see the sadness, the longing behind the smile she gives him. “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

Loki chastises himself now, for how little he had paid attention to the interactions of the people around him. He’d been so focused on the Loom, the crises that seemed to come one after the other, that he didn’t stop to think about his friends in a capacity larger than mine, these are my people to protect. He supposes that’s reasonable, given imminent destruction of the universe as they knew it did require the majority of his attention, and what little was left over generally went to Mobius, but still.

“…Did you two ever—”

“No, no,” B-15 cuts in. “It was more that… I had never met anyone like her. She and I were—complete opposites, at first. She was on a mission to destroy everything I stood for, but when I finally woke up and realized she was right …” She looks down again, quickly swiping a tear away that Loki hadn’t even noticed had fallen. “She opened my eyes, in a lot of ways. She showed me the truth, showed me my life, away from here, outside the TVA, and I think maybe… I loved her a little for that.”

Loki hears her sniffle, though he can’t see her face where it’s ducked away from him, before she looks up again.

“It hurt me, to see her go.” Loki sees the pain in her eyes and wishes he had better braced himself for that, for the admission he had known was coming. “It hurt but… I think I understand why she had to.” She laughs a little ruefully as she says, “I think maybe we weren’t—aren’t—that different after all. But I also want you to know, Loki,” she reaches her hand along the side of the table as she says it, coming a little closer to closing the distance between them but not quite managing it, “that it wouldn’t have hurt me any less if it was you instead.”

He knows, logically, that she means it, because B-15 doesn’t have an insincere bone in her body, and yet he can’t quite bring himself to believe her.

She must see it, too, because her expression turns serious, tilting her head as she forces him to meet her gaze. “I mean it, Loki. No one here resents you for what happened. No one here believes we’d be better off if the roles were reversed. Do you want to know what matters to them? To me? It’s that we have a chance now; a chance to live and to do better, and no matter the outcome, both you and Sylvie made that happen, and I am so, so grateful for that. I’m grateful to both of you, for turning this place on its head and giving us the chance to understand, and to be better. Thank you.”

It’s Loki’s turn to swipe at his eyes, now, nodding his head as he does so.

“I also want you to know,” B-15 continues, sitting back in her chair a little, “that I’m not going to let things go back to the way they were before. I know when Renslayer was in charge of this council, it made some horrible, horrible decisions about the lives of other people, but knowing the things we do now, I really believe that everyone who’s still here wants to make it right.”

Loki smiles at her, though he knows it’s a bit sad. “I know,” he assures her. “It’s easy to see why people trust you. I trust you, and as long as you’re here, as long as there are people who see things the way you do, I don’t think we have to worry about the TVA going back to the way it used to be.” He pauses for a second, unsure how to phrase what he wants to say next. “Sylvie trusts you too, you know—in her own way.”

“Thank you,” B-15 says once more. She shakes her head a little, laughing lightly. “The trust of two Lokis, huh? The chances of that… Who knew we’d all end up here.”

“Who knew,” Loki echoes.

They fall into silence again, but this one has none of the awkwardness left over. Loki really does trust her, so he’s happy for the chance to reassure himself that she trusts him too.

After a few minutes, B-15 catches his gaze again. “You bring something good out in him, you know,” she says with a small smirk.

“In who?”

Her smile grows, a hint of humour behind it. She shakes her head a little, almost in disbelief. “I didn’t think too much of it, before, what it meant anyway. No matter what form it takes, though, it’s good. You’re good for each other. So… thank you for that, too, I suppose.”

Loki drops the pretense—he wants to use this chance to be more honest with the people he cares about, and she deserves it, besides. He sighs as he looks down at the table. “I worry… that after everything I’ve done—everything I am—he’d do well to get as far away from me as possible. You all would, really.”

B-15 narrows her eyes at him in amusement. “Loki. We all know, extensively, all the things you did before you got here. No one judged you for it then—not really, anyway—and I can guarantee he doesn’t now. And I don’t mean that in a ‘the flow of time was dictated and therefore it wasn’t really you’ type of way. All those things, your past, is still part of you, but it’s not a bad thing. The things you regret—you have the opportunity to exist beyond them now, not in spite of them. Don’t let guilt prevent you from living your life; I’m pretty sure Sylvie would kick your ass if you did that.”

They both laugh a bit at that, and her smile turns kind when she continues.

“It’s like I said. Everyone we know brings out something in us, sure maybe not always for the better, but it’s not always for worse, either. Sometimes it’s what they see in us, in what we could be, that’s important, too.”

Loki considers that, the way Mobius never seemed to judge him for all that he’s done. He remembers their conversations in the Time Theatre, when his interest in Loki’s motivations seemed mostly objective; how he never felt like anything he had done had truly disappointed Mobius. He considers what Mobius must see when he looks at him, and it’s with wonder when he realizes it’s nothing like what most people do; when it matters, Mobius has never failed to put his trust in Loki, and it’s one of the biggest reasons Loki’s been able to keep going at all. For a moment, he thinks that no one has ever looked at him that way, has so easily seen him for more than the things he’s done.

It only lasts the one moment, though, because he realizes he’s wrong. As meaningful as it is to be trusted by someone that he himself can trust so instinctively in return, Mobius wasn’t the first person to look at him that way.

Loki sits up abruptly, the realization taking him by surprise. He looks over to B-15 with wide eyes to see her hand braced on the table, as if ready for action.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

He shakes his head, shakes himself free of his thoughts enough to answer her. “Nothing! Sorry, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” He looks away, an air of disbelief in his next words, as if he can’t believe he’s saying them. Really, he almost can’t. “There’s someone I need to see.”

Chapter Text

“You sure about this?”

Loki takes a deep breath as he stares at the house a few yards away from them—though to call it a ‘house’ is generous, he thinks; ‘shack’ might be more appropriate.

“Not entirely,” he admits. Mostly, he’s anxious about the welcome he’ll receive. That’ll determine how the rest of the conversation goes, but there’s nothing he can do now to better his odds.

“Well, I’ll be here if you need me,” Mobius says, because he’s always kinder than Loki deserves. Their hands are clasped between them, despite the slight chill in the air. “There’s a bench over there that doesn’t look too shabby, I figure I’ll wait there until I hear the yelling start and I can charge in all heroic to save the day and shit.”

He says it as a joke, but honestly, Loki’s worried it’ll be necessary.

Mobius must see the way his comment did nothing to ease the apprehension on Loki’s face so he squeezes his hand, and says, softly, “It’ll be great. I promise. I’m right here just in case, but honestly I’m anticipating an afternoon of boredom. Even brought my magazine.” He pats his jacket as if to prove it. “Whenever you’re ready, you can walk over, okay? Not a second sooner.”

Loki turns his head towards Mobius, knowing that when their eyes meet, the knot in his chest will loosen. It does, a bit, enough for him to take a deep breath, but even the depths of Mobius’ blue eyes aren’t enough to ease the tension festering within him—no, there’s only one thing that will do that now.

“Thank you,” Loki whispers. Mobius gives him one of those gentle smiles. 

He looks back towards the house, the overcast making it look even more grey than it probably is, but the entire town is affected by it. It’s a bit grim, if he’s honest, but he knows the people living within these buildings are anything but.

Eventually, he lets Mobius go in favour of slipping his hands into the pockets of his TVA windbreaker—this one, mercifully, doesn’t have VARIANT splayed across the back—and begins his walk over.

When he reaches the door, it takes him a second to build up the courage to lift his arm. There’s no going back now, he thinks, ruefully. With more confidence than he actually feels, he reaches up and knocks three times on the wooden door.

He takes a step back and listens for the heavy footsteps he’s come to associate with the person on the other side, as much as he does the thunder and lightning he grew up with.

It feels like ages before the door finally opens, and then he’s there. Filling the entire door frame is the God of Thunder himself—Loki’s brother.

Thor looks good, healthy. His hair is even longer than Loki remembers, which surprises him given the images he saw of Ragnarok showed most of it gone. He is short an eye, though, and the sight reminds Loki so viciously of their father he almost loses his balance.

He’s dressed in casual Midgardian clothes, a red t-shirt and black jogging pants, and half of his long hair is tied in a knot at the back of his head. There’s a bit of sweat at his brow and on his neck, as well as spotted on his clothes, and he’s holding a water bottle Loki’s sure is bigger than his forearm.

He’s smiling when he answers the door—because of course he is—and Loki sees the moment the recognition hits him. His his eyebrows start to climb up, his mouth falling open for a moment before he smiles even wider than before. Quickly, though, his expression drops and there’s fury on his face before Loki can even blink. He barely has the chance to register the water bottle falling to the floor before he’s stumbling backwards a couple of steps, a hand flying up to his face in reaction to a fist as hard as a rock catching him on the cheekbone.

He tries to shake it off, but admittedly, Thor’s every bit as strong as he remembers, and he has to reach out an arm to steady himself on the door jamb to regain his balance.

He laughs a bit, breathlessly, shaking his hair out of his face, before saying, “I suppose I deserved that.”

A beat passes, then two, and then a deep voice. “You’re here.” Loki looks up to see the anger still written all over his brother’s face. “It’s impossible. How are you here? I felt you die, I held you as the life left your body. I saw the Mad Titan murder you in front of me!”

He sees Thor becoming more frantic now, the anger overlaid with something else—something like disbelief, but not entirely in a bad way.

“I don’t understand! How is it that you’re standing before me once again? Brother, you’re here!”

Despite the anger and whatever other emotions his three brain cells are trying to process, Thor steps forward and pulls Loki into his arms with such force that all the wind is knocked out of him. He feels arms as thick as logs cage him close to Thor’s chest in a hug that would make most chiropractors envious.

Loki reaches his own arms around his brother, gently pats him on the back as he nods into his shoulder. “I’m here,” he agrees. He lets Thor hold on as long as he needs to, resigning himself to a lifetime here if that’s what he requires.

Thor does pull back eventually, but keeps a hold of Loki’s shoulders like he’s afraid Loki might disappear if he lets go completely. The fear isn’t entirely unwarranted.

There’s still anger on his face, disappointment as well, when he says, “You faked your death.”

Loki shakes his head. “No, I didn’t, not this time, I promise you.” He sees the disappointment fade, immediately replaced with confusion. Loki realizes now he’s not quite sure how to go about explaining it all. “A lot’s happened.”

When he doesn’t say anything further, Thor nods slightly, stepping back and gesturing for Loki to come inside.

The shutters are all drawn, except for the back of the house where Loki can see what little daylight there is streaming in through the door to the back room. He has to pause after a few steps, as there’s just stuff strewn everywhere. He can make out the outline of a sofa, a couple of arm chairs, and a large pile where he imagines a coffee table would be, as well as a large axe he hasn’t seen before leaning against the wall.

Thor steps around him, starts grabbing clothes and bits of paper off the sofa and throwing them haphazardly to all sides of the room.

“Please, sit!” He calls over his shoulder, not waiting for a response before he continues to the back of the house. “Tea?”

“Lovely,” Loki calls back, stepping over books and knick knacks to sit down on the edge of the sofa. He hears rustling coming from the other room—the kitchen, he guesses—and eventually Thor reemerges carrying two cups of tea. He’s also thrown a wool cardigan on over his t-shirt, and Loki has to stop himself from scrunching his nose in disgust thinking about how much sweat it must be subjected to.

He accepts the cup from Thor’s extended arm as his brother takes a seat beside him. “Two sugars; I hope that’s still alright,” he says, setting his own cup down, precariously balanced on a wobbly pile of books on the table—if you could call it that—in front of them.

“It’s perfect,” Loki says. He takes a sip before twisting to place his cup on the arm of the sofa beside him. When he’s confident it won’t topple over, he turns back to face his brother, folding his hands in his lap. After a moment’s silence, he admits, “I’m not entirely sure where to begin.”

Thor shifts to face him as well, crossing his legs so one ankle is resting on his knee, an arm outstretched along the back of the sofa behind him. “How about from last we saw each other? When Thanos and his army invaded the Asgardian ship?”

Loki looks down and clears his throat. “Right. The difficult part about that is that it wasn’t actually the last time I saw you, though it was the last time you saw me—or a version of me, anyway.”

Thor’s brow furrows in confusion once more. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“The last time I saw you,” Loki starts, slowly, “was in New York, when I was being arrested following the Chitauri’s attempted invasion.”

The furrow in Thor’s brow deepens, and Loki can practically smell the wood burning. Then, all at once, Thor’s expression turns to understanding, his eyes widening. “You’ve come from the time heist.”

“Sort of,” Loki allows.

“You escaped with the Tesseract! Our plan almost fell to ruin!” The anger is coming back in his tone now.

Loki grimaces. “Yes, well… To be fair, it had fallen, quite literally, at my feet, and everyone was so preoccupied with that big, green oaf—”

“Banner,” Thor cuts in.

“…With Banner, then, that no one had noticed. It was almost too easy, to just grab it and make a swift exit.” Loki chuckles briefly at the memory.

Thor’s glaring at him.

He clears his throat again. “In any case, I didn’t make it very far. I crash landed in some dryland on the other side of Midgard when these—soldiers appeared out of nowhere. They told me they were from something called the Time Variance Authority and… apprehended me.” He sees Thor’s mouth tick up in amusement. “Do not get too excited, now—the only reason they were able to subdue me is because they had weapons of a kind I had never seen before! Anyway, once I arrived at their headquarters, I learned that there was something called the Scared Timeline, in which everything that has happened or will happen had been dictated by these Time Keepers. The TVA—that’s what they call themselves—was created to protect that single timeline and to essentially execute anyone whose actions fell outside of it. Apparently, my escape was not… TVA-approved.”

He pauses, giving Thor a minute to absorb everything he’s said. The blank stare on his face does not bode well for the rest of his explanation.

“But…” Thor starts. “Why have we never heard of this—TVA before?”

“Never needed to,” Loki says. “You never acted outside the Sacred Timeline and so they left you alone.”

Thor’s silent again for a moment. “The time heist, though. Surely they would have intervened then?”

“According to the TVA, everything you and your little group of vigilantes did was supposed to happen.” Loki struggles not to roll his eyes as he says it.

“Hm. Good to know,” Thor replies, his eyebrows raised. “What about you then, you said they executed anyone who didn’t follow the Sacred Timeline?”

“They were going to,” Loki says. “But one of their agents—Mobius—was searching for another version of me—a variant—that had escaped custody and was killing off their hunters. They agreed to stay my execution in exchange for my assistance.”

He goes on to explain everything that happened in their search for Sylvie and everything that happened after, up until she killed He Who Remains.

“So the TVA was destroyed then?” Thor asks.

“No, not entirely. When she pushed me through the Time Door, I wound up at some—past version of the TVA. Mobius didn’t recognize me, when I found him there.”

He explains the time-slipping, and the problem with the Loom, and how they were back to searching for Sylvie again, though this time it was a lot more difficult, given she had infinite timelines she could have been hiding in.

He struggles to describe everything that happened once they brought Victor back to the TVA, given he lived through it hundreds of times, and so the details of the first run-through have faded. He thinks he manages well enough, though, and stumbles through the implosion of the Loom and how he had to learn to control the time-slipping in order to get back to a point where he could prevent it from happening. How he came to learn that no matter what he did, there was no fixing the Loom at all.

“Sylvie and I both realized at the same time, I think, what had to be done,” he says, looking down at his hands. “We wound up back at the TVA, to the point where the Loom was about to be destroyed again, and we both just—ran. Tried to be the first one to make it to the Loom, to take its place. She almost got ahead of me, but I stopped her, tried to reason with her. I was—I had been so sure that this was it, that this was what I was meant to do, but the problem was, so was she. I saw it in her eyes, brother; she had been running for so long, and I thought that maybe she was right—it was time for her to rest.”

He finds himself fighting back tears, just as he had been during those last moments with Sylvie. And just like he had been then, he’s failing. He reaches up to swipe away a stray tear with his finger before looking to Thor. There’s no more anger in his expression—only sadness, empathy for his brother.

Before he can protest, Thor is dragging him into a hug once more, though this one is gentler, meant to comfort Loki rather than himself. He feels more tears fall as Thor says in a soft voice by his ear, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

Loki hugs him back, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t deserve the kindness Thor is showing him, but—in a manner that’s eerily similar to Mobius, Loki realizes—his brother never was inclined to keep him at a distance; Loki knows this because he used it to his advantage repeatedly and on purpose, but Thor always, always believed in the best Loki had to offer. It’s a wonderful, terrifying thing, and Loki hopes desperately to never take advantage of it again.

Thor lets Loki be the one to pull away this time, but he keeps a strong hand on the back of Loki’s neck—a gesture Loki remembers from their childhood, one that nearly brings tears to his eyes all over again.

“You’ve come so far, brother. Mother would be so proud.”

Loki’s eyes sting as he sucks in a breath, blinking rapidly for a moment before letting a gentle smile form on his face.

Thor lets his hand drop and Loki takes a breath to compose himself before speaking again. “That’s enough about my multiversal travels. What about you, brother? Have you no adventures to tell of Thor and the Warriors Three?” He smirks as he says it, hoping the light jab removes some of the sorrow that has settled between them.

It does, a bit, and so Thor tells him everything that happened since New York. He always had a penchant for the dramatics, so Loki’s sure many of the details are exaggerated, except maybe for Frigga’s death. He gets quieter—a rare occurrence, for his brother—when he talks about that day, and seems to avoid specifics, even though Loki already knows it was all his fault. No amount of careful story-telling can protect him from that.

Loki listens as Thor continues, though, telling stories of robot armies threatening to destroy Midgard, and his resulting investigation into the Infinity Stones. He recounts their time on Sakaar, tells him about the Valkyrie and the Grandmaster—that one a bit sheepishly, now he thinks of it—about a rock of some description named Korg, and about a sister neither of them knew they had. He describes Ragnarok, how Surtur emerged to destroy their home and how they only just managed to escape with their people’s lives.

He struggles again, when he gets to Loki’s death. It was that, Loki realizes now, that signified the beginnings of the war against Thanos. The Titan gained the second Infinity Stone, on their ship, and it became the point no one could return from; no one could run from. He aches for his brother, for all that he went through in such a short period of time, and Loki wasn’t there.

Thor describes the war—losing it, and killing Thanos anyway. Vengeance, he thinks, really does run in their family.

He’s happier, when he talks about New Asgard, about finding and cultivating a new home for their people, despite having lost half their population. Loki can only be grateful he wasn’t alone, that he had the Valkyrie and the strange rock-person beside him in the endeavour to rebuild—and rebuild they did. New Asgard is thriving, despite all that they lost, and it leaves Loki in awe of his brother and their people; it reminds him, too, that he is not of their blood, and makes him yearn, once more, for the parentage that isn’t his.

When Thor describes the time heist, he’s rather vague with his recounting, and Loki suspects he just never bothered to grasp what was going on when it was explained to him. Thor could be a lot like the Destroyer at times, Loki thinks—just point him in the right direction and he’ll annihilate everything in his path. It sounds like it worked out though, the Avengers having successfully brought everyone back. Thor’s expression turns dark when he explains what happened next, how Thanos came back as well, and how though they were able to defeat him this time, the victory was more pyrrhic in nature.

Eventually, his story ends with how he wound up back here. A group called the Guardians of the Galaxy—which Loki understands to consist of a squirrel, a tree, a bug, Thanos’ daughters, one of their lovers, and a living battering ram—invited Thor to join them, but he declined for the time being, opting instead to take some time for himself after everything that happened. Loki is mildly surprised to learn he made the Valkyrie King of Asgard, but then to be king was never something Thor wanted. Neither was it something Loki himself wanted, he supposes.

They sit in silence for a few moments, letting everything that was said settle between them. It’s lifetimes, really, that they’ve lived in each others’ absence, and yet it’s nothing. Thor feels no more out of place in his life than he ever has, and it’s easy to imagine letting him be a part of it again—given Thor would consent to it, of course.

He only remembers now to be worried that Thor might ask him to leave. It would be understandable, given everything Loki’s done, even if he’s not exactly the version of himself Thor has known. He lied, he stole, he actively plotted to kill Thor and his friends multiple times; he even got their mother killed. Hell, Loki doesn’t know if he can forgive all that, let alone ask someone else to, even if that someone is his brother. If there’s anyone who would, though, he knows it would be Thor, and maybe that’s the reason he’s here, now, laying all his cards on the table—if Thor rejects him as he is, maybe this is finally his proof that he’s as irredeemable as he always suspected.

The silence goes on long enough that the sadness starts to seep into Thor’s features again—seems to weigh him down.

“I’m sorry, about your friends,” Loki says eventually, softly.

Thor sniffles, then laughs a bit as he wipes at his eye and turns to face Loki again. “No you’re not.”

Loki smiles gently. “I can be… indifferent, about the fact that they’re gone, and still sorry that it wounds you.”

Thor smiles tentatively back at him, and reaches out to grasp his shoulder. “Thank you, brother.”

They fall into silence again, this time a more comfortable one, each taking sips from their tea though they’ve long since gone cold.

“Why now?” Thor asks abruptly.

Loki’s eyebrows draw together. “How do you mean?”

Thor shakes his head slightly. “I mean, why have you come here, to see me, now?”

Loki remembers words from a different version of himself spoken long ago, words that sounded like a confession. He realizes now that maybe, given enough time, they become true for all versions of him. “Honestly? I… I missed my brother. And I wondered… if he missed me.”

When he turns to look at Thor, he sees a mix of surprise and sorrow looking back at him. Thor turns away for a moment, as if considering what he wants to say next. He inhales a bit sharply, turning back to face Loki, a thoughtfulness on his face that’s a bit of a rarity.

“I know you do not remember it, but I told you once… I told you that I thought the world of you. And for all that’s changed, for all that we’ve been through, together or otherwise, I find that that hasn’t.”

“Oh,” Loki manages to breathe out. He can’t bring himself to meet Thor’s gaze.

He feels a strong hand on his shoulder once more. “I’m glad you’re here, brother.”

Loki thinks it’s a wondrous thing to find there’s no deceit, no ulterior motive to his actions when he reaches up to pat Thor’s hand on his shoulder, looks at his brother, and says, “Me too.”

Mobius is sitting in between them on the sofa, his hands clasped in front of him, and Loki can see his knuckles turn white every few seconds or so.

It’s kind of adorable, actually, seeing Mobius this nervous. Loki can’t judge him, really—it’s not every day you meet the God of Thunder and have tea in his living room. Loki thinks it’s more than that, though. 

Through his work as an analyst and dealing with dangerous variants, Mobius has met his fair share of deities, royalty, supernatural enigmas, and what have you. So really, it’s not like him to be this tense around new, powerful beings, which is why Loki deduces that it’s this powerful being in particular, and their relationship by association, that’s putting him on edge.

Thor, for his part, seems to be enjoying himself. As much as Loki will go to the ends of the earth to argue otherwise, he knows his brother is not, completely, daft. He has to know the significance of Mobius’ presence, and even if he didn’t, the nerves rolling off the other man in waves would have been an indication that he’s not just some analyst tasked with escorting Loki around the timelines.

“So,” Thor says, his fist nestled under his chin in a false show of innocence, “I’ve heard a great many things about you and your TVA in the past little while.”

Mobius sits up a bit, his eyebrows raising as he turns towards Thor. “Oh? I hope nothing too incriminating,” he says, chuckling. “One thing I know about Loki is that he loves to talk, so I can’t imagine all the shit he’s been saying.” He seems to tense up when he says it, even though Thor and Loki both laugh a little.

“Ah yes,” Thor says, wistfully, “Loki always could talk his way out of any situation, growing up. Not so much when we were older but then he may have just been… out of practice.” There’s no malice to the way he says it, and he even meets Loki’s gaze over Mobius’ shoulder as if to reassure him of that.

“Right.” They all fall silent for a moment, and then Mobius sits up straight again, as if realizing there’s something he meant to say. “I’ve heard a lot about you too!” He says, quickly.

“Is that right?” Thor asks. “What kind of horrors has my brother told you of me?”

Mobius sputters a bit as he responds. “No! No horrors, not really. I mean he told me a bit about you when you were growing up—that time with the snake and the whole, ‘Yeugh, it’s me!’ thing—” He does the hand gestures and everything— “I’ve heard about a few times, but yeah, no—no horrors or anything like that, just—well, just normal sibling stuff I guess. As normal as you guys can get, I mean…”

“Well, normal just about went straight off the rainbow bridge with this one,” Thor says with amusement. “In fact, he himself almost went off of it quite a few times.” He laughs now, and it’s the contagious laughter, the one that makes everyone around him laugh with him, and Mobius does so now.

Loki turns to wag a finger at both of them. “Now, hang on a moment.”

The rest of the visit goes well, Loki thinks. Thor continues to poke fun at Mobius, and Mobius learns to poke back. Mostly they settle into storytelling, adventures they’d each gone on with Loki, and while every once in a while, he has to remember to feign offense at one of their comments, Loki actually finds he feels more at peace than he has in a long time. 

He likes hearing their perspectives, their recounting of things he had always seen a certain way suddenly brings them whole new meanings—nuances he never would have considered on his own. It’s almost like he gets to live through them again, and this time he gets to do it with both eyes open.

Something sits in the room with them, this crowded little place containing everything that remains of his brother’s life on Midgard. He can feel it in the walls, but also feels it flowing between them. Loki knows it’s something he’s felt before, but never with this much… capacity. Never this much volume. Mostly, he associates it with his mother, remembers it like a tether between them, something that was only present so long as they were close, something he never knew to look for when she was too far from reach. It doesn’t feel like a tether now, though. It feels like something that’s a part of him, surrounds him. Flows through him like the blood in his veins and leaves him connected to these two people in such similar and yet vastly different ways. 

It’s love, he thinks, and knows. And it’s warm, and comforting, and something he doesn’t feel like he has to hold on to in order to keep, because it will stay with him, now, wherever he goes. It’s a piece of him, and it is all of him, and it’s something he knows he’ll never lose. Even when he can’t hold on to people, to things, this love will stay with him. It’s terrifying as much as it’s liberating, to know it lives within him now, and he basks in it—he’s been doing that a lot lately, he thinks.

Eventually, it’s time for them to go. As the three of them carefully make their way back to the front door, Loki allows himself one more glance around the room. It’s lived in, it’s loved, and it feels like it will be for a while yet. He smiles, just a small one, just to himself, before ducking his head and following Mobius out to the porch.

Loki turns back to look at his brother leaning on the door jamb, a smile on his face, and Loki’s never been so glad to see it.

“Alright, you have the TemPad? Didn’t manage to lose it in the last hour or so it’s been in your possession?” It’s in jest, but honestly Loki wouldn’t put it past his brother, given the state of his house.

Thor does look a bit panicked for a second as he pats himself down, but ultimately is triumphant when he pulls it out of his pocket to brandish in front of Loki. “I’ve got it!”

Loki smirks, but is silently relieved; he had to do a bit of work with that one to create a direct line to his own TemPad, as well as make sure Thor can’t accidentally open any Time Doors and get himself lost within the infinite multiverse, because that would be sure to ruin an afternoon. He wanted Thor to be able to reach him, though, if he wanted it too, and it seems like maybe he does.

Teaching him to use it had been another task entirely; Asgard was not deprived of technology in any sense, but the inner workings of the TVA aren’t exactly intuitive. Loki only barely managed to keep his insults to a minimum, and there were a few moments where the TemPad was at risk of an untimely end at the hands of Thor’s temper.

“Good,” Loki says. “Now don’t go sitting on it or anything, or else I’ll have to come back to see why you haven’t contacted me, and I’d rather not risk catching any illnesses in that house of yours.”

He hears Mobius snicker beside him, and Thor looks about as unimpressed as he gets. Loki thinks he understood though—he won’t be leaving him behind anymore.

After a few moments, Mobius sucks in a deep breath and reaches around Loki to squeeze his shoulder.

“Well,” he says, probably feeling out of place but doing his best not to show it, “I’m gonna go make sure the… Time Door has a big enough space to let us through.” It’s complete bullshit, but Loki’s thankful for it anyway. Mobius turns to smile at him, somewhat conspiratorial, but genuine all the same. “I’ll leave you to it,” he adds softly. Loki smiles back at him, all the anxiety from when he first got here nowhere to be found.

“Alright,” Loki says. “I’ll be right behind you.” 

Mobius nods gently, then lets go of him in favour of turning towards Thor, his arm reaching in front of him like he’s expecting a handshake to suffice the God of Thunder. “I’m really glad I got to meet you, your Majesty.”

Thor laughs heartily. “Please,” he says, “call me Thor. Or better yet, call me brother.” He smiles wide, reaching out as if to accept the simple handshake Mobius offers, but he uses it to pull the other man in close; he yanks so hard that Loki won’t be surprised if the rest of the day is spent in the infirmary getting Mobius’ shoulder put back together.

He hears a small, “oof” as Mobius hits his brother’s chest and can’t help but laugh at the ordeal. Thor is smiling, Mobius has recovered enough to return the embrace, and Loki sees everything that’s important to him standing in the doorway of a shack on Midgard—will wonders never cease?

When Thor lets Mobius go—to his credit—he only stumbles back a little. Looking a bit dazed, Mobius nods towards Thor and squeezes Loki’s arm one last time in a reassuring gesture before turning to walk a few steps into the street.

Loki looks back at his brother, his large figure taking up the entire doorway once more. Then he steels himself, knowing the question he wants to ask but unsure how prepared he is for the answer. “Are you happy?”

Thor’s smile widens a little. “Yes. I am.” Loki lets out a sharp exhale, his eyes darting down, but Thor continues. “Moreover, now I am content. Thank you for that, brother.” He reaches out to grasp the back of Loki’s neck once more, forcing him to meet his gaze. Loki allows himself a small smile in return.

Selfishly, he feels relief at that. Unlike a version of himself that was younger, understood less of his relationships to other people, he would never begrudge his brother what happiness he could find in this life. There will always be a part of him, though, that yearns to be Thor’s equal, to be needed by his brother, and so while he wouldn’t take pleasure in his brother’s misery, he might’ve carried regret in not being a part of that happiness.

Now, though, maybe he will get to be a part of it. Now, he knows he is part of the reason his brother is content. And it’s more than he ever knew to ask for.

Thor gives him a little shake before letting his arm drop, but keeps his eye on Loki’s face.

“And you? Are you happy?”

Loki feels his smile falter just a little, bashfully. He turns to look behind him until he sees what he’s looking for.

“Yes,” he says, knowing his answer is only truthful because of the man standing a few yards away, fiddling with his TemPad. His smile widens as he turns back to his brother. “I think I will be.” He’s not at all surprised to find his eyes are stinging a little, and the tears that form in happiness are reflected right back at him by the person who has always been there; the person who always will be.

Chapter Text

Loki reaches in front of him, feeling the suction of the tube pull the container out of his hand and watches it fly to its destination. He turns back to the counter to sign off on the repair request form and deposits it into the Completed pile.

After what has to amount to several days, the combined efforts of Loki and O.B. have put a significant dent in all the work they have to do to the TVA TemPads in circulation. There’s the changes due to the ban on pruning as well as a few other modifications approved by the Judges’ Council, so virtually everyone has had to submit a request to R&A.

They’ve both spent a lot of time here, lately; Casey, too, though he has council responsibilities to consider now on top of his work with O.B. and Victor. Judge Gamble asked all of them, after the initial chaos, to join the new Judges’ Council, but only Casey, B-15, and Mobius accepted. Victor had said no for obvious reasons, and it seemed that O.B. was just genuinely happier in R&A doing what he’s always done—keeping the authority running with minimal interaction with those in positions of power. He’s entirely open to suggestions from the council and has happily taken on the projects they’ve asked him to consider, but a seat at the table just doesn’t seem to be something he’s interested in, and they can all respect that.

It had been a surprise to everyone, though—maybe mostly to Loki himself—when Loki had said no. It was a shock to his system to realize he was repulsed by the idea of actually being in charge of something, especially this place, but once he thought about it, it seemed rather easy to accept. Partly, it’s because he can’t think of one single reason that anyone here should trust him with something like a position on the council, but honestly? He doesn’t need it. He’s come far enough by now to know that to rule was never going to be something that fulfilled him, and he thinks as long as there are people he trusts and who will listen to him that are in charge, that’s all he needs, anyway.

It still terrifies him to no end that he can’t assign a value to his so-called glorious purpose, but it makes him feel better to know that he doesn’t need to rule. He’s closer to figuring it out, and for now, that’s enough.

Recently, Loki has taken over working on most of the TemPad updates, as O.B. has been putting the finishing touches on his latest project with Victor: the TVA Handbook, Volume Two. 

They asked Loki to look over some of their work, but mostly, this has been an O.B. and Victor thing, which is fitting—it was their combined genius that created Volume One, after all. It’s taken them a while to get through it, even considering how much reworking they had to do, and Loki’s fairly certain it’s partly because they’re a little reluctant to finish it; once they had, Victor would be leaving.

It’s a bittersweet thing for all of them, really. He’ll be the first person the TVA has ever returned to their timeline after a long line of people who never got the chance. It’s the start of a new era for the TVA, one that aims to protect rather than oppress; it’s their chance to get things right after eons of faceless, graceless dictatorship. 

At first, Loki tried not to let it be a reminder of all those who came before, those who were found guilty of crimes beyond their comprehension and sent to a truly gruesome fate. It was hard, though, especially when he himself had almost met the same end and only escaped it by the will of his own survival instincts. And maybe, he had thought, it should be a reminder—aren’t those who forget history only doomed to repeat it? So while it might be painful, a weight on the shoulders of everyone who knows the toll paid by those who didn’t ask to cross the bridge in the first place, it’s a weight they carry together. It remains so that it won’t be forgotten.

There’s relief in that, as much as there’s guilt and regret; there’s relief in knowing the mistakes of the past won’t permeate the future. Sylvie may have been the one to gift them all that chance, the opportunity to move forward and to try again, but it’s up to everyone she left behind to use it.

Loki’s fiddling with the next TemPad in their pile when he hears familiar footsteps quickly approaching in the hallway. He looks up just in time to see Mobius rush in, breathing a bit heavily from the exertion—Loki has to stifle his laughter at the sight.

“Is it time?” Loki asks, once it seems like Mobius has recovered enough to hold a conversation.

Mobius nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He just finished talking with the council. We’re all gonna meet outside the war room.” He looks around, confused. “Where’s O.B.?”

“O.B.!” Loki calls.

They hear some rattling and banging, an enthusiastic “Here!” before the man in question pops up from behind one of the counters where he’s been sitting on the floor. “Is it time?” He asks, his eyebrows coming together just slightly.

Loki smiles sympathetically, and nods, pointing to the front of the room where Mobius is standing. “Yes. Mobius has just come to get us.”

O.B. follows his gesture, face brightening when he finds the other man. “Mobius! Hi!”

“Hey, O.B.,” Mobius replies, his smile kind. “You ready?”

“Yes, let me just—” O.B. disappears behind the counter and they hear some more clattering before he pops up again, closer to Mobius this time, and it makes the other man blink in surprise. He’s holding a paper bag now and moves to stand beside Mobius at the front of the room. He looks back to Loki, nodding. “Let’s go then!”

Loki feels fondness creeping into his expression and allows it to exist there. He shifts his gaze to find Mobius looking back at him, and they share a smile while Loki takes a deep breath before both turning to follow O.B. into the hallway.

The council is already waiting for them when they arrive—B-15 smiles warmly at each of them, Tarian and Lieutenant Byrne are speaking quietly to each other, though Byrne offers them a small nod of acknowledgement, Judge Gamble is her usual shade of intimidating yet professional, and Casey, bless him, just looks happy to be included. Loki notices the absence of the other judge and wonders if there’s any situation for which he’d actually resume consciousness. Victor stands off to the side, though close to B-15, and Loki would bet anything he’s simply trying not to faint.

O.B. walks right up to Victor, and, either oblivious to the other man’s anxiety or choosing to ignore it, smiles brightly and says, “This is for you!” He holds up the paper bag.

Victor looks between O.B.’s cheerful expression and the bag, clearly hesitant, but reaches out shakily to take it and peers inside. Some of the tension seems to fall away from his face once he recognizes the bag’s contents, but he doesn’t remove them, instead smiling and shifting the bag to hold it in one hand. He extends the other, which O.B. accepts readily, shaking it firmly.

“Th-thank you, my f-friend,” Victor says. Despite the stutter, his words take Loki back to a time he himself had spoken them. Almost instinctively, he turns, and is filled with relief to find Mobius beside him—as always, Mobius is looking back, a knowing smile formed on his face and nothing but warmth in his eyes. Loki breathes.

Thankfully oblivious to the inner turmoil Loki is experiencing just beside him, O.B. smiles and says, “No problem!”

All at once, Loki wants to leave—wants to take Mobius by the arm and go somewhere, just the two of them, just to prove that he can, but he forces himself not to. There’s time for that, for all of it, and for now that knowledge is enough. Now, it’s about Victor, and the very future of the TVA, and Loki does his best to remind himself of how miraculous it is that he can be here for it.

Gamble clears her throat, startling Loki from his thoughts, and they all turn to face her. “I think that’s everyone. Now then, in the future, we won’t make such a production of sending individuals back to their rightful places on the timelines, but in this case, we on the Judge’s Council deemed it appropriate given the nature of Mr. Timely’s work with the TVA and the fact that this has never been done before. Again, I’d like to thank all those involved for their efforts in making this possible, and Mr. Timely, especially, for all that you’ve done for us here at the TVA. We do not wish to perpetuate the belief that a life on the timeline is something to be earned, but, if it was, you have earned it several times over.” She pauses, nodding solemnly towards Victor. “Thank you.” 

She turns now to address Byrne.

“Lieutenant, you have the Time Door ready to be opened?”

Byrne nods, retrieving their TemPad from their pocket. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good,” Gamble says. “If there’s no objections, we may proceed. Lieutenant?”

Byrne hits a couple of buttons on the TemPad and a Time Door warbles open just ahead of them.

Gamble takes a second, as if considering the door itself, and turns back to Victor. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Timely.”

Victor breathes in shakily, but turns to B-15 and they share a firm handshake. He does the same with Casey, Mobius, and Loki, giving them each a rare smile through the tension that has seeped back into his features. He nods towards the rest of the council, and turns back towards O.B., considers him for a second, and obviously makes some sort of decision because he steps forward and pulls the other man into a tight hug. It ends quickly, but O.B. smiles at him when they pull back.

“Good luck,” O.B. says, uncharacteristically quiet. Victor nods, squeezes O.B.’s arm before turning away and taking a step towards the Time Door. He regards it warily, as if nervous it might disappear before he can step through it. Nodding a little to himself, he steps forward again, until only a couple inches separate him from the life he was once stripped from in the name of everything standing behind him. 

He turns to look back at it all once more.

Loki watches as he scans the faces of the people left, the people he’s leaving, and hopes he doesn’t feel regret—hopes he found everything he sought and can return without the question he maybe always had: What if? He watches Victor smile as he takes them in, grasp the bag at his side firmly, and says, one last time, “Thank you.” He looks right at Loki as he does.

He doesn’t stick around for a response—maybe doesn’t need one—and he ducks his head and takes that final step into liberation, the first step into the rest of his life.

The door warbles again, and this time it closes. There’s a stillness in the air, as they all stand with their gazes fixed to where it stood only moments prior. They’re fleeting things, Time Doors—Loki doesn’t think he’s ever really considered that before. It hits him now, the finality they leave in their wake. Opened, they can lead you to any place—any time; closed, they leave you stranded, more so than any other door you could walk through, and it’s suffocating in its own way, in how they can seal your fate in such a simple yet profound manner. It makes Loki feel for his own TemPad, and he exhales for what must be the first time since Victor disappeared through the door when he feels it in his pocket.

He hears the whirring of Gamble’s chair somewhere behind him and is relieved he isn’t the first one to make a sound.

“Well,” she says. “I think we can consider that a success. Thank you all for being here as witnesses. Council members, I’ll need two of your signatures to finalize Mr. Timely’s return, if you don’t mind.”

Byrne takes a manila folder from her hands, pulling out one of the pages and resting it against the wall to sign it. Mobius steps over to take it from them as they finish, as well as the pen they’re holding, and uses his knee to place his own signature. He hands the folder back to Gamble, who thanks him and turns to head down the hallway, Byrne and Tarian following behind her.

Loki almost laughs at how abrupt it all had been—after the buildup, the anxiety, the way this moment had symbolized a turning of the dials for the entire organization, it was brought to an end by a bit of paperwork. It hadn’t even been notarized, Loki thinks, and immediately chastises himself for it (how Midgardian).

Almost automatically, he turns to Mobius so they can share in the ridiculousness of it all, but this time, Mobius isn’t looking back at him. Loki can’t see his blue eyes, knows he wouldn’t see any humour in them anyway, but they’re turned away from him, squinting down to where Mobius still holds the pen in his hands. He looks at it like he’s confused by it, maybe even offended, and Loki has the urge to take it from him before he burns a hole through it and into his skin with his stare.

Instead, he says, “Mobius?”

Mobius doesn’t move, doesn’t give any indication that he heard him, that he’s aware he’s still surrounded by his friends.

Loki tries again, softly. “Mobius, are you alright?” He reaches out to touch the other man’s arm gently, trying not to startle him.

His efforts turn out to be in vain as Mobius’ whole body jerks slightly at the touch, and he blinks harshly before seeming to rip his gaze away from the offending object in his hands. When he turns to look at Loki, Loki swears he was blinking away tears.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I’m—” He stops, shakes his head. “No, I just need—I gotta—” He doesn’t finish his thought, just pats Loki’s hand where it still rests on his arm and walks quickly away.

Loki watches him go, bewildered, entirely unsure what had caused such a reaction. Sure, Victor’s departure ought to have created an emotional response in all of them, but he hadn’t anticipated this, not from Mobius.

He looks around at the others, but they all look just as taken aback as he feels. Well, except maybe B-15. She’s still staring after Mobius; there’s a crinkle to her brow, but it reads more like concern, rather than confusion. After a moment, she shakes her head softly and turns to face Loki, a sad, resigned smile on her face. Inclining her head towards the hallway, she says, “Go.”

Not wasting a second, he nods quickly, and turns to follow where Mobius had left.

Admittedly, it takes Loki a couple of tries to find him. He had been about to make his way to Mobius’ living quarters before remembering one more place he should check first. He opens the door to Renslayer’s old office, exhaling in relief when he sees a familiar head of grey hair tilted downwards where Mobius is sitting on the sofa.

He doesn’t look up when Loki enters the room, gently closing the door behind him. He doesn’t look up as Loki makes his way to the other side of the sofa and sits down next to him. He doesn’t look up when Loki takes the empty tumbler from his hand, shaking slightly, and places it gently beside a familiar pen on the table in front of them.

Loki has never been in Renslayer’s office before, only caught glimpses when he was made to wait outside like a child in a physician’s office when Mobius made his visits when they first started working together. It’s bland, he thinks, in the same way the rest of the TVA so often is, but he realizes after glancing around the room that it’s also a bit menacing. Sure, there’s the pair of sofas, inviting and open, creating the illusion of safety and warmth, but everywhere the edges are sharp. The desk is large and commanding, the faux Time Keepers loom over the entire office, and the lighting is somehow both harsh and hard to see by. 

That isn’t what unsettles Loki the most, though—it’s the artifacts, the keepsakes, displayed proudly around the room, reminders of what the TVA had stood for, all too recently. He doesn’t recognize most of it, though there’s an empty stand where he imagines a blade could go—a blade approximately the same size and shape as Sylvie’s. The thought makes him shudder.

Eventually, Mobius moves to pick up the pen he’d still been staring at. He brings it closer to his face, and by virtue of their proximity, closer to Loki’s, so he can finally make out the words printed along the side. Franklin D. Roosevelt High School. Loki doesn’t recognize the name—until, of course, he does. Suddenly, the setting seems much more appropriate.

Mobius shakes the pen softly a couple times before tossing it to the sofa beside him. He exhales, bringing his hands up to rub harshly at his face, and, to Loki’s mild surprise, chuckles.

“She and I always had a talent for it—getting under each other’s skin, I mean.” His smile is fond, if a bit rueful. “It’s what made us such good partners, good friends, I think. Who better to motivate you than the person who always seems to be a couple steps ahead of you?” He laughs again. “I think I beat her out, in the end, though, don’t you?”

Mobius turns to look at Loki now, and Loki gets the feeling he’s actually waiting for an answer.

“I suppose so,” Loki says, and it’s the truth. “Is it such a bad thing? To finally win against your opponent?”

Mobius shakes his head, chuckling again. “That’s the thing. She wasn’t my opponent. Or, she wasn’t supposed to be, anyway. Maybe that makes it worse. She was my friend. And even when she wasn’t, we were the same.”

“How do you mean?” Loki asks.

“We existed the same way. We came to be here the same way. We’re saying everyone here was a victim of He Who Remains? Well, so was she. She had a life on the timeline, same as everyone else, the only difference is, we’re still here and she isn’t.”

Loki has no response for that, at the moment, so he says nothing.

He hears Mobius inhale, and a beat passes before he speaks again. “One time, she asked me if I could go anywhere, at any time, where would I go. It took me a while, but I did have an answer for her.” 

Loki remembers that, remembers the last words Mobius was able to get out before Renslayer had him pruned. The memory makes him itch with fury.

Mobius continues. “I’ve been thinking now, about how I never thought to ask her what she would do. I’ll never know what her answer would be. For the longest time, it was her and I, allies to the end. And it all changed so quickly, and now I’m the one wondering where she would go, if she could. If she wanted to go anywhere at all.” He scoffs a little, then adds quietly, “For all time…”

Always, Loki thinks, but he doesn’t say it. 

He considers everything Mobius said, about Renslayer and the way they were all the same. How even though there was a version of her that worked to perpetuate He Who Remains’ rule, there were countless others that didn’t; she didn’t ask for this life, and maybe all she did was the best she could with it. 

Immediately, he shakes the thought away. No one, no matter the circumstances, could say the best version of themselves is the one who betrays their friends. Loki knows that better than anyone, and it’s how he knows the best version of himself is still to come.

“You’re wrong about her, I think.”

Mobius turns to look at him again, eyebrow raised. “Oh?” He sounds genuinely intrigued.

“Look, I know she was your friend, and you worked together a long time, and yes you were both variants kidnapped by He Who Remains, but that doesn’t make you the same.” He remembers what B-15 had said to him once, in a shockingly similar conversation about him and Sylvie. “You started out the same way, maybe, but honestly I think that’s where the similarities end.”

Mobius shifts beside him, turning so they’re facing each other more fully.

Loki nods, almost to himself, as he recognizes the truth in his own words. “Yes, I don’t think you’re that similar at all, actually. Think about it. We may not know what she was like on the timeline, but we know that, twice, she used her position to knowingly suppress the free will of others. First as He Who Remains’ right hand, and again as head of the Judges' Council, as a TVA worker. Even when Sylvie and I were brought back here and revealed the truth about the TVA, she saw no reason why that might change her motivations. We saw the opposite happen with B-15—she learned the truth about this place, these people, and it was enough for her to do the right thing. Renslayer? She learned the truth and she worked against us anyway. She pruned us anyway. Time and time again she chose the oppressive nature of this place over the people she should have cared for, her supposed friends and allies. Maybe that speaks to the kind of person she is on the timeline, maybe not, but this version of her was not your friend. She was given the same chance as the rest of us, the chance to change, and she looked the other way. She looked to what she knew, despite the cost to billions—trillions of lives and did her best to ensure it couldn’t change for the better.”

He pauses, reaches out a hand to gently hold Mobius’.

“Do I think her story is tragic? Yes, of course I do. It’s tragic that she was ripped from her life and made to serve an unforgiving, all-knowing dictator. But Mobius, by the end she knew all of that. She knew the truth and she didn’t care. So do I think she’s the same as you or I?” Loki shakes his head, wanting to make sure Mobius understands. “Not even a little.”

He sees Mobius blink rapidly for a second, feels the way he squeezes his hand. He looks down before nodding sharply, as if he regrets doing so.

Loki reaches out with his free hand to cup Mobius’ face and gently turn it back towards him. He can see a tear has fallen and softly wipes at the wet track with his thumb.

“I’m sorry this has happened, and that you’re hurting. But I can’t let you think that Ravonna was just a victim in all of this. She knew the truth and she used it to her advantage.” He softens his voice as he continues. “So yes, we can mourn the tragedy, and yes, we can be glad for her variants that now get to live their lives freely, but we don’t have to feel guilty for moving on just because others can’t. If we did… love, we’d never get anywhere.”

The silence that follows almost makes Loki want to take back his words—he can’t though. He can’t because he knows they’re true. As cruel as it feels to speak them—to even think them—they’re true all the same, and it’s where people can sometimes get lost in their grief. They get lost in that guilt, in the notion that it would be unfair to live their lives, to move forward, when someone else is no longer able to. And yes, maybe it’s an oversimplification, and it’s often just one facet to grief, but he needed Mobius to hear it, and he thinks maybe he needed to say it. 

For Mobius, it’s because he’s misplacing his grief, his sorrow, and he’s giving it to someone who doesn’t deserve it for reasons that don’t exist. So if he’s going to feel it, if he’s going to mourn, he should do it truthfully, without the misguided idea that somehow, he’s still here when someone else isn’t. It’s not about choosing lives, it’s about the paths we take and the choices we make along them that determine where we’ll end up. Loki knows this because it’s exactly the same as he’s felt, as he feels for Sylvie, and while he can’t tell Mobius he knows how to grieve her properly, he’d like to help remove some of that guilt from a place in which it doesn’t belong.

If he thinks about it too long, about how strongly their grief seems to reflect one another, he’ll either laugh or cry. Since he doesn’t know which it will be, he forces himself to think instead of this moment, of the way Mobius’ skin feels heated beneath his palm. Of the pale blue eyes that so often remind him to breathe and how right now, in this moment, they’re taking his breath away.

He sees the tears starting to form and he wants to say something else, something comforting, and just as he starts to consider what that might be, Mobius reaches up with his free hand to grab Loki’s wrist and pull him closer. Their lips crash together, and it’s harsh and the angle is wrong, and all Loki can think is it feels like finally.

Mobius lets his hand go in favour of reaching up to tangle his fingers in Loki’s hair, and that’s alright because Loki finds it’s much more important that he hold Mobius’ face in both his hands. He turns his face so their noses slot together and he can feel the wetness of another tear that has fallen down Mobius’ cheek, so he uses his thumbs to swipe at Mobius’ eyes as their mouths move together. 

The hand that had been on Loki’s wrist falls to his waist and he feels it rub up his side slightly. He lets one of his hands slide down to Mobius’ neck and he finds the skin there is just as hot, if not moreso. Mobius lets out a muffled groan, just a small one, and seems to stop himself almost as soon as it happens. Loki knows better than most just how much of Mobius’ life has been spent restraining himself, and so Loki will be having exactly none of that, thank you. He opens his mouth a little, just enough to swipe his tongue along Mobius’ bottom lip, just to see what would happen. As it turns out, what happens is Mobius’ mouth opens in response, and Loki lets out what he desperately hopes is a delighted sound as he gently explores Mobius’ mouth with his tongue.

As he feels more of Mobius than he ever dared to hope for, it occurs to Loki to be embarrassed about the fact that they’re currently snogging in the office of the woman Mobius had just been mourning. The thought is fleeting, though, partly because Loki could care less about whether they’re properly honouring one of the people who had fought so hard to ensure his failure, but mostly because nothing matters outside of Mobius.

Nothing matters except the way Mobius’ fingers feel in his hair, like they’re trying to become a part of it. Nothing matters except the hand on his waist, desperate and yearning and a promise to never let him go. Nothing matters except the glory of having this man, this lovely, wondrous man in his arms, and he thinks that, maybe, nothing ever will.

It doesn’t matter that they’re both still broken, that Loki hasn’t found a way to put the sharp pieces of himself back together. It doesn’t matter that Mobius had just been crying over a friendship that was never truly his, that Loki can taste the bitterness of alcohol leftover on his tongue. It doesn’t matter that after everything, after all their effort to be where they are now, Mobius will still walk away, still needs more than the TVA can give him, and Loki will let him go.

It’s a lie, of course. They’re all lies that Loki is determined to believe, a deception, because the first person the God of Mischief learns to lie to is himself.

He thinks, though, that even when everything else comes flooding back in, when they finally separate and everything that has sat between them for all this time comes rearing its head once more, that he’ll be okay. That they both will. For as long as they have each other, the rest can be dealt with. He believes in them, in himself enough for that.

He remembers, distantly, that he hadn’t wanted to fall over the edge with Mobius; that he stopped himself because he knew they weren’t ready. He doesn’t know if he was wrong then, but what he does know is that maybe it’s okay to let themselves have things, to move forward, even if it means to fall. Because there’s no use in holding themselves back in the name of those who can’t.

Loki shifts in Mobius’ arms, wanting to be closer, to hold him tighter, when there’s a knock at the door.

He pulls back reluctantly, though his eyes don’t open. Mobius curses under his breath as Loki leans forward to hide his face in Mobius’ shoulder. Neither wants to let go.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes B-15’s voice from outside, “but there’s something I wanted to show you guys. Or… someone, I guess.”

Mobius exhales before responding. “Okay!” He calls. “We’ll be out in a minute.” Loki swears he hears a chuckle from the other side of the door before footsteps recede.

Loki forces himself to pull back again, and he replaces his hands on Mobius’ face to encourage him to meet his gaze.

“We’ll be okay,” he says, forcing as much resolve into his voice as he can muster.

Mobius smiles, and it’s one of Loki’s favourites, the one lined with humour and affection, and he nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We will be.”

Chapter Text

Their hands brush together every once in a while as they follow B-15 down the hallway. She hasn’t spoken yet, hasn’t elaborated on what, exactly, she wants to show them, and Loki doesn’t know if it’s awkwardness or suspense or what but to be honest, he doesn’t really care. He’s mostly just annoyed that he has to touch Mobius less than he could before and it’s making him irritable. Honestly, doesn’t everyone around here know he has attachment issues?

When they get to one of the hallways leading towards the war room, B-15 pulls them into an alcove. She looks between them, and then back out at the hallway, as if concerned she might get into trouble, which is ridiculous, considering she basically runs the place now. When she turns back towards Loki, he widens his eyes at her, hoping his expression conveys what he’s aggressively thinking at her. Can we get to the point?

Either the message does not come across or—more likely, in Loki’s opinion—she ignores him.

“Maybe this isn’t the best place for this, actually…” B-15 says.

Loki’s about to lose his mind, and maybe Mobius can sense this, because before Loki can respond, he gently puts a hand on his arm, placating, and says, “I’m sure it’s fine. And even if it isn’t, who’s actually gonna say anything to the TVA’s newest judge?”

B-15 seems to realize he’s right, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her, so she nods a bit. “Right. Okay. So, this was actually just meant to be for you, Loki, but I think it might do both of you some good. You can say no if you want, but I did speak to Gamble and she said as long as we don’t do or say anything that puts the TVA at risk then she doesn’t have a problem.”

“A problem with what, exactly?” Loki asks, a bit exasperated.

“A problem with us making a visit to one of the timelines.”

This does take Loki aback, actually. Sure, he had his own trip to the timelines to visit Thor, which of course he had to get permission for (the number of bureaucratic hoops he had to jump through made him question exactly how important it was to him to see his brother, but the thought was fleeting) and was told under no uncertain terms that it was a special circumstance and was not to become common practice. He ignored the bit about not mentioning the TVA, but hey, it’s in his nature to cause a bit of mischief where he can. He raises his eyebrow at B-15, a silent gesture for her to continue.

B-15 smiles at him, somewhat conspiratorial. “I don’t want to get into too many details, but there’s someone I thought you’d like to see—someone I’d like to see, too, so if you can both agree to keep it discreet and to keep quiet about the TVA, we can go right now.”

Loki nods, and turns to look at Mobius who is doing the same.

“Good, let’s go then.” B-15 starts pulling her TemPad out of her pocket.

“You’re not even going to tell us where we’re going, then?” Loki asks.

She smiles again. “You’ll see in a moment.”

She hits a button on her TemPad, a Time Door warbling open in front of her, and she steps through without waiting to see if she’s followed.

Loki turns again to look at Mobius, who’s already looking back—gods, Loki doesn’t deserve him—and takes a deep breath before turning to step through the Time Door himself.

Any wariness he felt dissipates as soon as he takes in his surroundings. He steps from the aged tile of the TVA onto the luxurious stone floors of the palace he grew up in. There’s a window in front of him, and outside he can see the brilliant gold shimmer of the city, the flourishing greenery, and, in the distance, the glint of the Bifrost. 

He’s home.

His breath catches in his chest as he takes it all in: the familiar palace walls, the brilliant blue sky allowing the sunlight to flood the hallway, the intricacies of the murals strung up all around him. He has the faint urge to dash down the hall until he finds his mother—oh, his mother, is she here? Is Thor?

The only thing that keeps him grounded is the hand he hadn’t noticed slip into his, gently squeezing, a reminder and a comfort and an anchor. He meets Mobius’ eyes and they breathe together.

B-15 clears her throat beside him, and it’s a good thing, too, because he had genuinely forgotten she was there.

He turns to look at her. “You brought us to Asgard?”

“I did,” she says, smiling softly. “Though it’s not exactly the one you’re used to.”

“Right,” he says, because he should have expected that. Looking around him again, he tries to find things he doesn’t recognize, different artwork or a misplaced tree. It all looks the same though, so he looks back at B-15. “Where—when are we, exactly?”

“We’re in Asgard a few centuries before you last saw it. That’s not the main difference though.” She turns slightly, and inclines her head. “Follow me. Oh, and maybe conjure us some more… appropriate outfits.” And with that, she starts walking down the hallway.

Loki shakes his head, chuckling to himself, but he shrugs his shoulders and feels familiar fabric fall over him. It’s not quite the same as the real thing, but for now even the illusion is enough to add to the nostalgia of it all. He looks over to see Mobius taking in his own newly-transformed clothing—blue robes, to match his eyes. He tugs on his hand and they start to follow B-15, her own robes now billowing slightly behind her.

It’s a bit odd, Loki thinks, to let himself be led through his own home, but he’s so caught up in the elation of being back within these walls that he doesn’t have it in him to protest. He continues looking around and craning his head to see outside, as if taking it all in for the first time. The odd guard passes by them, but they’re in a fairly public area so he doesn’t expect they’ll be stopped. He does subtly turn his face away when they get close enough, unsure if he’d be recognized but wanting to be cautious anyway. After this happens a couple of times, Mobius calls out to B-15.

“Hey, hold up a sec. Do we need to be worried about someone recognizing Loki? Or running into his double or something?”

B-15 shakes her head, slowing down enough to walk beside them. “No. Trust me, there’s no chance of someone recognizing the prince here.”

The way she says it makes Loki narrow his eyes at her, but she ignores him, instead turning down a hallway that leads further into the palace.

She comes to a stop in front of a door, one Loki has walked through many times, and turns to face them. “Remember what I said: no TVA talk. Got it?”

Loki nods as Mobius says, “Yes, ma’am.”

B-15 considers them for a second before nodding back, and she gently turns the handle, pushing the door open. She walks in ahead of them, then stands to the side, allowing them to pass her and venture further into the room. There, sitting on a lounge chair off to the side, reading by the light of a lamp far too extravagant for its purposes, is Loki.

Well, almost.

It’s Loki before she became Sylvie.

He recognizes her as soon as he sees her—despite all that’s different about them, their features are similar, and her robes are the same shades his mother had always dressed him in, growing up. She can’t be more than nine or ten years old, maybe a bit younger than Sylvie was when the TVA had first come for her.

He’d stopped in his tracks, he realizes, and the younger Loki—younger Sylvie?—has looked up from her book to survey her visitors. Clearly not finding them to be a threat, she fixes her gaze to Loki and raises an inquisitorial eyebrow—because of course, even a Loki this young is a master of facial expressions.

Loki smiles slyly at her, but turns to look at Mobius now standing behind him, still staring after the young girl with a look of awe on his face. He catches B-15’s gaze, but she just smiles.

He turns back to the child, and she seems to track his movements as he strides over to stand next to her.

“Hello,” he says. When the only response he gets is a furrowed brow, he gestures to the chair next to her and asks, “May I sit?”

She nods, so he does.

He points to the book in her hands. “What are you reading?”

She tilts the book closed so he can scan the cover. It’s one he recognizes, but not enough to remember the story. He tells her as much.

“I’m afraid I can’t recall how that one goes. Is it any good?”

The young goddess shrugs. “It’s alright. I prefer books about magic.”

Loki’s eyes widen a bit at the verbal response—her tone is clipped, especially for a child, and it reminds him so much of the Sylvie he knows. He smiles at her and leans in a bit, conspiratorial. “You know, I always preferred those ones, too.”

Her mouth twitches, like she might want to smile, but she doesn’t, and Loki doesn’t fault her for it.

“Do you know any decent magic, then?” He asks, sitting back in his chair a little.

She nods. “My mother teaches me. I’m not as good as her, yet, but she says one day I’ll be even better.”

Loki can’t help the flutter in his chest, at that—at the mention of Frigga. “She’s right, I’m sure. It just takes practice. And you’ve got lots of time for that.” The words leave his mouth before he can fully appreciate the meaning behind them, the gravity they hold. When he does, he feels the breath leave his body and he turns to look behind him, and he sees Mobius smiling at him, encouraging, and it’s alright, because his words are true. This version of Sylvie, and countless others, they all have time.

“Can you do magic, too?” The child is asking.

He fixes his expression, not wanting her to see any of his sorrow in it, before turning back to face her. “I can, in fact. My mother taught me, as well, when I was younger. Power like that, like you and I have… It can change worlds, and I’m grateful for her everyday, that she saw fit to teach me." He knows he sounds wistful as he says it, so he forces some humour into his tone when he continues, smirking. “Though to be completely honest, when I was your age, I mostly used it to taunt my brother.”

She matches his smile, this time. “That’s what I use it for, too.”

“Good,” Loki says, entirely sincere. “Do you want to see something cool?”

She hesitates, but eventually the curiosity must win out over the skepticism because she nods.

Loki holds out his hand, palm facing up, and together, they watch as miniature fireworks dance and explode over his fingertips, the bright colours reflecting off of their faces.

He shifts his gaze to look at her, this younger version of someone he both is and isn’t; she’s looking on in wonder, and her eyes reflect so fiercely a woman—a goddess he had once sat across from on a train. A goddess who sacrificed everything so that the rest of the universe might go on. A goddess he wishes could see them now so he could say to her, Thank you.

When the magic fades, he lowers his hand, and the child looks at him, forcing their eyes to meet. She asks, “Who are you?”

Loki almost laughs. I’ve been asking myself the very same, he thinks. But she doesn’t care about all of that, all the inner struggle he suffers daily in the face of the question, Who am I? She doesn’t mean it in the same way he does, and so it’s a relief to be asked and to have an answer.

He smiles. “A visitor,” he says, because that’s what he is, at the moment. “A friend.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Her expression is just on the precipice of hopeful, and it’s a sensation Loki remembers well, from his childhood. Always on the edge of hope, never quite daring to reach it. And it breaks his heart not to be the one to pull her to the other side, but she’ll get there. She will because unlike those who came before, she’s not destined to lose. He’s seen what she can become, the person she can grow into, and it’s beautiful and it’s powerful and he can’t wait for her to live the rest of her life.

“I would, if I was staying longer. Unfortunately, my friends and I will have to take our leave shortly.” He keeps his voice soft, and inclines his head in the direction of Mobius and B-15. Her face drops slightly. “You should ask your mother, though. She’ll be able to show you.” 

She nods, and as she’s opening her mouth to say something else, the door behind them bursts open and a woman rushes into the room.

“There you are, my girl. Oh, hello. Visitors, have we?” Frigga stops just a few paces from Loki, turning to take in the presence of the others when she registers him.

Loki stands, slowly, to meet her. He finds he’s at a loss for words, unsure what to say to his mother, after all this time. For all that he’s envisioned seeing her again, being in her presence and yearning for her forgiveness, he finds himself wholly unprepared to stand before her once more. His movement causes her to turn back, though, and their eyes meet, and his start to sting.

Luckily, B-15—ever the one for propriety—chimes in, taking a few steps forward. “Forgive us, Your Majesty. We don’t mean to cause any trouble—”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Frigga says, waving a slightly dismissive hand. Her eyes haven’t left Loki’s face, a bewildered smile taking over her features. Loki can’t help the smile that forms in return.

No one says anything for a few moments—Loki can practically hear Mobius holding his breath—and then Frigga blinks a few times before turning towards her daughter.

“Darling. Your brother’s been about painting the palace blue with tales of your tragic death at the hands of a couple of runaway horses. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” She asks, eyebrow raised.

One look at the child beside him tells Loki that, yes, she does happen to know everything about that. He recognizes the mischief in her eyes as if he were looking in a mirror.

However, true to the chaotic powers that be, she adopts a concerned look on her face when she responds. “Of course not, Mother. I have not seen him since we dined together this morning.”

Frigga looks disbelieving, if amused, and Loki wonders how he ever convinced himself he’d managed to fool her in his youth—nothing has ever gotten past this woman.

“Right,” Frigga says. “Well I suppose we’d better catch up with him before he starts to settle into his mourning period then, hm? Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

The young trickster tries and fails to hide a smirk as she stands and places her book down on the chair behind her before taking off towards the door. She looks back when she reaches it, and Loki winks at her as she opens it enough to slip through and disappear from sight.

Loki smiles to himself as he turns back to face his mother.

She regards him for a moment before she says, “We haven’t met in this life, have we, child?”

“No, not strictly speaking,” Loki replies, his tone coy. “We really didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just—”

“Don’t fret,” she interrupts, and Loki is silently relieved—he really isn’t sure how he was going to explain their presence while adhering to B-15’s one rule. “I’m sure it’s none of my business.” Her smile contains multitudes; amusement, forgiveness, comfort, love. It makes his chest ache. “It’s good to see you, Loki.”

Loki exhales sharply, feeling his eyes start to sting again. “It’s good to see you too,” he rasps.

Frigga reaches out to touch his arm, gently, and it takes all his strength not to fall forward into her embrace. But she isn’t the mother he knows, not really, and so the solace he might find in the circle of her arms is not his to accept. It’s enough for him to know it will be there for her child—her children when they need it most, and he hopes they both seek it out as often as they can, for as long as they can.

Eventually, she steps back, and turns her head to address all three of them. “Forgive me, but I have a few… matters to attend to.”

Loki smiles. “Of course, Your Majesty. And—thank you.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” Frigga says, smirking, and with that she walks away from Loki for the last time.

They all stand in silence for a few moments, letting everything that’s just transpired settle between them.

B-15 is the first to move, stepping forward so she’s beside Mobius. “Well,” she says, “ready to go home?”

Loki considers her for a moment, then shakes his head slightly. “You go ahead. We’re not quite done here, yet.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I promised Gamble we wouldn’t be gone too long.”

“And we won’t be. I promise. You go on before us, and we’ll be right behind you. Or, you know, you could jaunt about the palace for a bit if you want; it is quite magnificent, so I’ve heard.”

“No, no, I’ll head back and see if I can find Casey—I felt a bit bad about leaving him out, but it’s not like this was a planned group activity in the first place,” she says, exasperated. “You both have your TemPads?”

“We do,” Loki confirms. “Really, it won’t be long. Don’t fret.” He can almost hear Frigga’s voice again as he says it.

Loki takes Mobius out to one of the mountains north of the palace, far enough from the city and the surrounding farmlands that they shouldn’t meet any stragglers. It’s a place he happened upon when he was searching for more—discreet passages out of Asgard when he was younger, so really there’s a good chance no one else even knows about it.

It’s a clearing, about halfway up the range, with enough trees to provide cover from unwanted observers but, at the right angle, has a perfect view of the palace grounds, the gold structures shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun. Loki’s always been quite fond of it; he’s glad to have the chance to visit one more time.

He conjures a blanket for them to share in the shade of one of the trees, and they lay it down before sitting up against the trunk, shoulder to shoulder.

After a while, Mobius asks, “Do you think it was really her?”

Loki furrows his brow. “Who?”

“Sylvie. I mean, I know it wasn’t her her, but was it her, do you think?”

Loki feels the edge of his mouth tick up. Only this man would ask a question like that and expect a serious answer. But Loki feels that he can give him one.

“I think so. As much as I’m her, or she’s me, or any version of us is each other. She won’t be the same—she can’t be the same, because part of Sylvie’s history is the TVA, and, thanks to her, this child will never have to know about it. So she’ll be different, and she’ll be a little bit the same, but in some ways it doesn’t matter, does it? She gets to live her life the way she chooses for the same reason any of us do. Maybe she’s a version of Sylvie that was dealt a different hand, but the way I see it, Sylvie lives on in all of us, now.”

Mobius nods, and that’s it for a little while. They sit together, watching the movement of the city below, listening to the wind rustle the trees above them.

It strikes Loki, again, just how similar they are in their grief. They each lost someone they thought of as a friend, an equal, to a cause bigger than any of them knew to understand, and somehow, in spite of it, they’re meant to move on.

Loki knows, intimately, that Sylvie and Renslayer are not comparable, but it’s fascinating how not very different they are at all. They each worked, for a long, long time, towards a goal that could never really be accomplished, for reasons that were both selfish and yet endeavoured to serve the greater good. And now, just like everyone else, they leave versions of themselves behind, to exist in altered forms and to live free of predetermined fates.

He wonders what Renslayer would say now, if she could see that Sylvie won; if she knew they found a balance between order and chaos. He only wonders for a moment, though, because he finds he just… doesn’t care. He’ll be there for Mobius, and he’ll understand his sorrow, but he doesn’t have to join in it to do so. He said earlier that he recognizes the tragedy in her story, and he does, but he also meant it when he said doesn’t think they should use the chance Sylvie fought for to hold themselves back from living in the name of someone who would rather have seen them dead.

His thoughts turn back to the present moment, the view of the palace he spent centuries growing up in. It’s strange, to be back here, in that it isn’t strange at all. Asgard is home, and maybe a lot happened the last time Loki was here—a lot that he can’t take back—but a lot happened before that too. His entire life happened here. His brother was here, and his mother, even his father; he learned about the world and his place in it and the things he could do to change it; he laughed in his youth and he withdrew as he grew older and it all happened right here. And it feels like home in a way no other place ever has—no other place ever will.

So maybe it’s fitting that he should bring Mobius here, to say to him the thing he’s been dreading and change the course of his life. Too much has happened away from here, and so maybe his retribution is to let this be the place his life becomes altered once more.

Loki can’t bring himself to look up from his hands in his lap. His voice is low when he says, “I understand, you know. That you have to go.”

He hears Mobius shift beside him, can practically feel the other man’s gaze on him. “What?”

Loki takes a deep breath, willing the tears not to form. “I know that the TVA isn’t what you want, not forever, and I just wanted to tell you that I understand, that I—I don’t expect you to stay, just for me. Okay? We have this chance now, all of us, to live and I don’t want—”

He’s cut off by a soft hand on his cheek, turning his face towards Mobius’ so the other man can gently press their mouths together, and yes, everyone knows Loki loves to talk, but he thinks this might be something he loves even more.

The kiss doesn’t linger, just meant to ground him, as Mobius so frequently does, but he keeps his hand on Loki’s face when he pulls back enough for Loki to make out the blue of his eyes.

“Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere.” He must see Loki getting ready to protest because he rushes to continue. “Without you, I mean. I’m not going anywhere without you, alright?”

Mobius glances down quickly, shifts his body to face Loki a bit better, before looking up again.

“You’re right. The TVA isn’t going to be what I want forever. But guess what? We have time now. We have time to figure out what we want, and so if you need to stay for a while, if you want to stay, then that’s what we’ll do. God knows there’s enough to occupy ourselves with around there, and we can make a game plan, but in the meantime I’m not in any rush, okay?”

Loki nods, looks back down at his lap as he blinks away the tears starting to form.

“Is that what you want? To stay at the TVA?” Mobius asks softly.

“I don’t—I don’t know. Not—not really, not forever. I don’t know. That’s the problem, Mobius, I still don’t know what to do, who to be, and I don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck. I don’t want to keep you in that place just because I don’t know who I am.”

Mobius nudges his face softly to get him to look back up. “Hey, is that what you’re worried about? Being stuck? Loki, I could never feel stuck as long as you’re around. But also, you know you don’t have to stay there just because you don’t know what your life plan is, right?”

Loki furrows his brow. “I don’t know what I should be doing, though,” he says. “How do I know where to start if I can’t even say where I want to end up?”

The edge of Mobius’ mouth ticks up. “Earlier, you said that there’s no use holding ourselves back just because there’s people who can’t move forward anymore. And you were right. So let me tell you, holding yourself back because you’re not sure what your endgame is? It’s just as pointless. Do you know where people wind up when they’re too scared to move forward? Exactly where they started. So I’m asking you, is the TVA where you want to be?”

He considers this, whether he wants the TVA to be the place he finally settles. He has friends there—family, really, and he has a job he’s good at and a space he’s familiar with, and he could easily live out the rest of his days serving the timelines just as he’s doing now. He could. But deep down, he knows it isn’t what he wants. He feels it in his bones, the way he’d yearn for something else if he was to stay for much longer. He also feels the guilt that goes along with it, with leaving everyone behind, but the truth is, none of them are being left behind anymore; no one is being left to a fate they can’t alter, and he believes in his friends enough to trust that if they need to, they’ll move on, too.

“No,” he says, finally. “I don’t—I can’t stay there forever.”

Mobius nods, and their faces are so close together that it makes the tips of their noses brush. “Okay. So we’ll go. It doesn’t have to be today, and it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but we’ll go. This is our life, our lives, and we’ll do whatever we like with them, okay?”

“Okay,” Loki says, and he lets his eyes flutter closed.

The truth is, he hadn’t considered that he and Mobius could do this, could pick up and leave, together, and take their uncertainties with them, because when had he been taught that he could? Growing up, he had seen the loose ends, the question marks, the unknowns shut away and forgotten, and so he had thought that, in the face of the question of who he is, he would stay behind. He would let those who know what they want continue on and he wouldn’t let himself be the reason they couldn’t. When had he seen anything that wasn’t fully formed take its place in the world? When had he ever been told that purpose is not a condition, but an everlasting goal?

If he’s honest, Loki would say he’s felt like an uncertainty for a long time, before the Loom was destroyed, before he had even been brought to the TVA, but he told himself he understood his purpose because to be unsure was to be cast aside. All his life, the ugly, unfinished, unwanted things were either banished or tucked away to sit beneath the surface, life continuing on above but always out of reach. That was what he knew, and yet here Mobius is telling him that he doesn’t have to have the answers, doesn’t have to forge a path in order to begin walking along it. It’s mystifying, and he doesn’t understand it, but he can trust that it’s true because he would trust this man with anything—with everything, and if, for Mobius to move on and to live, he doesn’t have to be left behind? Well, he’ll hold onto that like a lifeline.

To some, it might seem such a simple thing: to offer the world the things that you are rather than the things you hope to be; to grow continuously and to find the answers to your questions as you accept what the world offers in return. But to Loki, it’s everything he didn’t know he could have; it’s the idea that his indecision, his uncertainty is not pervasive; it’s the knowledge that he can be so sure about something—someone—and it won’t be tainted by the fears he can’t shake, the inability to hold his purpose in his hands and to live by it. It’s the comfort in knowing that he will not be abandoned by the people he loves when he maybe doesn’t have the answers.

He thinks of his father, now, the man who had taught him what it meant to be worthy of a place in the world, and he feels sorry. He’s sorry for the king who became so insecure that any uncertainty he faced was cast into darkness, as if to be unseen was to be inconsequential, even when those uncertainties were his own children. He sought control in a way Loki hadn’t even comprehended until now; if something could not be controlled, could not be dictated, then it was hidden, forgotten, and Loki can’t think of a better way to ensure you never move forward, not entirely.

Loki wants a life, and he wants it with Mobius, and so with the courage he only has because of the man sitting next to him, he’ll allow himself the chance to live it. It’s liberating, really, to know he can leave questions unanswered, he can take his uncertainties with him, and so he’ll carry them and nurture them until he isn’t so unsure. He’ll find his purpose in them, he’ll find it in the places they go, and he’ll find it in the man he… in the man he loves. He’ll find his glorious purpose in the unknowns, and for the first time, the vastness of possibility doesn’t feel so suffocating.

So for now, he takes Mobius’ hands in his own, and he tilts their foreheads together, and in this first act of a life they can choose to live together, they breathe.

Chapter Text

“Here’s the file you asked for.”

Loki looks up from where he’s been reading the TVA Guidebook—Volume Two—to see B-15 holding out a manila folder in front of him.

“Thank you,” he says, standing and taking it from her. “Have you spoken to Mobius?”

There’s sadness in her features when she smiles at him. “Yeah, he caught me just before the meeting.” Her gaze darts down briefly before she continues. “You’ll be heading out soon, then?”

Loki nods. “As soon as he’s ready. We’ve been making our rounds, but don’t worry; we were saving the best for last.” He winks at her, hoping she doesn’t try too hard to look past the facade.

She huffs out a laugh, as she says, “Sure you did.” She shakes her head a little. “This is it then, is it?”

“This is it,” he replies. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. We’ll be around, eventually.”

She smiles at him. “I know you will.” Loki can see she has more she wants to say, so he waits. “Are you scared?”

Loki smiles back. He shakes his head. “No. I’m not, really.”

B-15 considers him, and she nods softly. “Good,” she says. “I’m glad.” She reaches out to squeeze his arm. “Good luck, Loki.”

“Thank you,” he says.

She lets her arm drop and she smiles at him one more time, and then she turns and walks away.

“You sure you got the right location?”

“Yes, it says so right here, do you want to check it again yourself?”

“No, no, it’s fine, just making sure.”

“Oh, honestly.”

Loki shakes his head in exasperation, tapping away on his TemPad, before the Time Door opens in front of him.

“After you,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

Mobius looks wary, but not to the point that Loki’s worried they’re doing the wrong thing. He just needs a moment.

So he takes one, and eventually, when he’s ready, Loki watches Mobius steel his expression and duck his head a little as he takes the few steps needed to get him through the doorway. After a beat, Loki follows.

He’s been on this street before, so he recognizes all of it for the most part. The typical, cookie-cutter, American suburbia that belongs to a man called Don and his children. The setting sun casts a rather elegant glow across the houses, and even Loki has to admit it’s quite beautiful. The golden hues are nowhere near those of the regal architecture of Asgard, but he can still see the appeal.

Mobius is a few paces ahead of him on the sidewalk, so he closes the distance between them, and they both watch as a man, not so different from the one standing beside Loki, indulges his children in whatever whimsical adventure they’ve managed to dream up from the safety of their front lawn.

“The yard could do with a bit of work.”

He hears a soft chuckle. “Nah,” Mobius says. “It’s great. Best house on the block, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Loki says, because it is. It really is. How could it not be, given its inhabitants?

Then, because he’s thinking it, he says, “It feels… different, with Sylvie not here, doesn’t it?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mobius nod a little. “Yeah. I think it does.”

They fall silent, then, and they watch for a while, basking in the wonder of simply existing.

After some time has passed, Loki hears Mobius breathe in sharply.

“So,” he says. “What do we do now?”

Loki can’t help but smile as he turns to look at Mobius, and the smile only widens when he’s met with blue eyes looking back at him, the golden glow making them even more brilliant. When he answers, it’s with more surety than he thinks he’s ever had before, and it’s wondrous. “We can do whatever we like.”

Mobius smiles back, and reaches out his hand a little so he can tangle their fingers together.

“For now,” Loki continues, “we can just wait here for a little bit. Let time pass.”

And they do. With the world, the universe, and everything in between stretched out in front of them, they wait for a while, together, and they let time pass.

Somewhere in the distance, a goddess is watching. Somewhere in the distance, she holds their lives in her hands, just as she will for as long as the tree she breathes life into continues to grow. Somewhere in the distance, she smiles.