Archive of Our Own

Mobius’ heart is emptier than it has ever been.

It’s a new feeling for him. Mobius has felt plenty of things during his time alive. He’s feared for his life, he’s felt righteous anger upon learning the truth of the TVA, he’s regretted the mistakes he’s made and he’s yearned for what he cannot have. But he’s never felt this before, this grief that threatens to double him over, knock him on his knees, and never let him back up.

He misses Loki. It’s as simple as that.

It’s weird, how easily it comes to him. Instinctual, almost, like something he has no control over–the beat of his heart or the rush of his blood.

He’d been so content with his life at the TVA. An eternity of nothing but the same old walls, the same old tiles, and the same old tie around his neck. He’d been fine with that for as long as he could remember. Then Loki came along and suddenly Mobius started paying attention again, to the world around him, the life that had started to dull. He remembered the type of wood the walls had been carved from and the cracks in the tiles beneath his feet and how tight the tie around his neck was wound—had always been wound.

He’d been balancing on a tightrope for as long as he could remember and he’d gotten so good at it he’d forgotten that it was possible to fall off.

And when he did, he’d landed face-to-face with the very God that had knocked him off.

Loki had begun to brighten the world for Mobius. Working alongside him, he’d started to dust off a piece of himself that had been hidden away. Something hidden for so long Mobius had forgotten it was there at all. The monotony of his life that he’d grown so accustomed to had been thrown completely out of balance and he discovered that he didn’t mind it at all. It should have surprised him, how he didn’t hate the sudden whirl of chaos bumbling around and messing everything up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much. Not when Loki peeled open something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was missing.

In his presence, he’d felt seen in a way he’d never felt before.

Now, in Loki’s absence, there are no more eyes on him. It had felt strange, to have so much of Loki’s attention on him at first. Then he grew so used to it that it became a sixth sense; the presence of Loki beside him felt like an extension of himself. Without him here, it’s as though he’s lost a piece of himself.

There’s a Loki-shaped hole in his heart, in his mind. Mobius isn’t sure there’s anything he can replace it with. He doesn’t think he wants to. Working at the TVA won’t fill it, and neither will his life on the timeline. He stands on a tree-lined street and he knows with certainty that only Loki can slot into place.

He’s a distance away from a beautiful house in a suburban neighborhood in Cleveland, Ohio. The year is 2022. Two boys are playing in the front yard. There is a man in a blue vest and khakis. He’s fiddling with a jet ski in the garage. He looks like Mobius.

He is not Mobius.

He could have been, in some other time. He may be, in some other time.

But not in this one.

Mobius watches Not-Mobius pick up one of his sons and swing him around. The other one kicks a soccer ball at the two of them. There’s laughter from the boys as Not-Mobius shouts and suddenly they’re all chasing each other around the yard. Mobius stares until his eyes start to burn. 

There is nothing for him here.

He’s watching a life that is already being lived. This life belongs to the dad roughhousing with his kids in their front yard. This life, simple and colorful and lively and with those jet skis in the garage, cannot be his.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want it. It looks so wonderful. He can see himself living it like it’s already happened. It has, in a way. He’d lived this life, at least for a little while, until he’d been brought to the TVA. He doesn’t remember it, but part of him can still feel it in his bones. Memories burned into his DNA. The phantom touch of little hands wrapped around his own, lake water spraying in his face, cold keys dangling between his fingers.

He stands there and grieves a life that could have been his.

And then, after a little while, he lets it go.

Mobius pulls out his TemPad and an orange door opens up in front of him.

With one last look at the life that he’ll never live, he walks away.

The thought of returning to the TVA without Loki beside him makes him nauseous. He doesn’t think he can handle going back there, staring at a tree made of a million branches on the screen and analyzing timelines to see if a He Who Remains variant is stirring up trouble. Shuffling back and forth between his desk and the cafeteria, attending mandatory meetings, and pretending that Loki’s absence isn’t the large, towering, trumpeting elephant in the room. He can’t do it. It might tear him apart.

And yet, rising above the fear of returning to haunted rooms and the memory of a voice he’s heard before and of losing himself again to the monotony that pulses beneath the walls, the floors, and the ceilings is a yearning for something he’s half-convinced he will never, ever have again. That yearning is what decides for him, to go back to the TVA. That burning desire to return to Loki, to see him again, to bring him back home. It only ever builds stronger with the more time that passes. His head spins with the might of it.

When he closes his eyes, Loki is imprinted beneath his eyelids. The new him he’d glimpsed for only a second, beautiful and powerful and glorious–green cloak and imperfect horns and echoing steps as he walked away from Mobius to fix all of everything, to save his life, never to see him again. He clings to the memory, sometimes afraid that if he doesn’t, there will be nothing of Loki left.

Mobius’ head tosses back and forth between two states of being, the more frequent a debilitating grief that constantly threatens to send him to the floor with his head between his hands and tears welling beneath his eyelids. Is it fair of him, to miss Loki so mightily, with all of his being consumed by it? Is it fair of him to grieve him, his peer, his comrade, his partner-in-crime, his best friend? Is it fair to miss someone who’d only left him behind because he had no other choice? To save all of everything, Mobius included, he’d had to leave everything behind. A sacrifice that had to have been made. It makes sense. It was selfless. It was a move that made Mobius so proud of him that he wanted to yell it to the sky. To tell everyone of the sacrifice Loki had made, for billions–trillions–of people who would never, ever know. Is it fair of him to miss him like this when it must have been the only way?

It must have been the only way.

He tries to convince himself of this because surely Loki would not have left him behind if there had been another option.

But sometimes, despite his best efforts, he dwells on the fact that Loki had left him behind, anyway.

Sometimes he feels so upset–so angry about it–that he has to take a lap around the hallways of the TVA, hide himself away in a dark, forgotten storage room where he might find some peace, hold his head between his hands and take slow, deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

It’s irrational, and he knows it, but he can’t help it. He’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that he and Loki had all of time together, the two of them side-by-side. That he’d see the crinkles of his eyes every day, that he’d brush his fingers against his when he passed him a file, that he’d make him laugh and revel in the burst of affection the sound of it stirred within him. He hadn’t even realized he’d been fantasizing about it, confident in the future of it, until all that he’d envisioned had slipped between his fingers.

How could Loki possibly have had the nerve to leave him for all of eternity without even having the grace to tell him goodbye?

It’s because Mobius would have stopped him, he suspects, but his professional opinion is that reason is a bullshit one. To sacrifice himself for the sake of everything is a heroic move, but not one that Loki deserved. They could have found another way, the two of them together. All of them together, even. All of the friends that they’d made. All of the people who cared about Loki. He’s convinced they’d have worked something out that would have saved Loki alongside everyone else. Why couldn’t Timely have gone out? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand why Loki left. Why had he ignored the plan? Why’d it have to be him?

He wishes he could know. Perhaps it would lessen his grief if he understood. If he’d had any idea what Loki was thinking. Why hadn’t he told him?

He clings to that question sometimes, when his heart thumps beneath his ribcage, when his fingernails dig crescents into his palms, when he can hear his blood rushing in his ears. Did Loki not believe in them? Did he think he deserved to weather the weight of everything in eternity on his shoulders alone? Did he not know Mobius would follow him to the end of time if he’d only had the chance?

He can’t ask him. He can’t ask him and it might be killing him. He’ll never know where Loki’s head was when he made that choice. All he knows is the look on his face and the tears in his eyes before he rushed out to the gateway. I know what I want. I know what kind of God I need to be. For you, he’d told them. For all of us.

He must have known Mobius would have recognized those words. So many different variants of Loki that he’d studied and so many of them had lived through that moment. There were so many thoughts racing around in Mobius’ head as he stared at Loki through the glass between them and not a single one was coherent enough to let out. He’d been so full of fear that all of his words escaped him, and he could only shout No!

Don’t do this, he’d thought. Please.

It had felt like a thousand years, watching Loki walk away from them–watching Loki save the timelines. It was something beautiful, something that took his breath away, something he knew he was lucky to behold. And it broke his heart in a way Mobius hadn’t even known it could have broken. In a way Mobius isn’t convinced he can piece together again.

He replays it all in his head on repeat, so many times it starts to blur together. It takes him back to when Mobius presented Loki’s life to him. He thinks that this would be a highlight in the reel of his own life. A core memory. Something that’s altered him fundamentally.

Before Loki and After Loki.

Mobius isn’t sure how much time he spends at the TVA working beside B-15 and adamantly pretending everything’s fine until something in him can’t anymore. As soon as he gets back into the swing of things it becomes obvious to him that she knows something’s still wrong–and she’s observant enough to know that Loki’s the reason–but she doesn’t prod much. She tells him she’s there for him if he needs her, that she’s grateful he came back but he can always step away if he needs to, and that hey, if you’d like, I can grab a cup of coffee with you sometime.

It means more to him than he lets on, that B-15 is so willing to be there for him. He doesn’t mean to be as nonchalant about how he’s feeling as he comes off as–he knows it would be helpful if he talked to someone. Anyone. But he’s worried, a little, that if he opens his mouth to talk about Loki he will never shut up.

Of course, if something is pent up for long enough, it will inevitably find its release.

It’s a little thing, really, that causes it. He’s walking down the hallway with a pen in his mouth, hot cocoa in his hand, stack of files in the other, grumbling to himself around the pen about stupid… variant asshole… how am I supposed to deal with… is this really… best he can do… how many of… this is exhausting… and on top of… finding Loki… oh shit.

He loses his grip on his cup of hot cocoa and watches it fly through the air. It splatters on the wall and directly onto one of the new posters. The cup falls to the floor and the cocoa stains the colorful tree, drenches the cartoon TVA workers, and then runs down the wall with quiet drip, drip, drips.

It’s not his most dignified moment, but the anger that suddenly, abruptly courses through his whole being has him throwing his files to the floor with a much louder than necessary, “Fuck!”

Lucky–or perhaps unlucky–for him, B-15 is not far away, chatting to someone with a thoughtful expression. At the sound of Mobius’ voice, she turns to look at him. Immediately, the look on her face morphs to one of concern. Mobius is slinking to the floor with his back pressed against the wall, fiddling with the pen between his hands and clicking it over and over as he tries to calm his beating heart. He hears her footsteps rather than sees her approach, as now he’s trained his gaze to the floor–at the files that have scattered everywhere, at the puddle of steaming hot cocoa, at the cup mocking him from a distance away.

There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder as she crouches down to his level. “Mobius?”

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. The sudden, red-hot spread of fury is already dwindling, twisting into something bitter and broken and devastating. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I’ll get something to clean this up.”

“Mobius. It’s alright.” She speaks to him tentatively, like the wrong word will send him spiraling again, and it might have annoyed him if he wasn’t actively falling apart. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Mobius can’t look at her right now. He feels embarrassed and guilty, and like he might break apart with the swell of emotions clashing together in his chest. “I dropped my hot cocoa. It splashed onto the poster.”

“That’s all? It’s alright. We can get a new one up there no problem.”

“It’s not–that,” he sighs, and finally looks up at her. “It’s–it’s everything, B.” He’s taken to calling her B., as of late. B-15 seems so impersonal, what with everything they’ve learned about the timelines, and while she hasn’t officially changed her name herself, she doesn’t seem to mind the new nickname. “Everything in this stupid place reminds me of–” His voice breaks a little, and he’s already too embarrassed to feel embarrassed about that. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence, because B-15’s face goes from concerned to understanding.

“Alright. Let’s go talk somewhere.” She stands up, then, and offers a hand out to Mobius. He lets out a breath, then takes it and lets her help pull him up. “No good in keeping all of this to yourself.”

Mobius leans over to start piling the files between his hands, shuffling them into place and tucking them under his arm. He looks at the mess of cocoa on the floor and then at the spot on the wall where it’s still dripping down. He frowns. “Do you want me to–”

“I’ll ask someone to get it later,” she tells him, “and the next time someone throws a cup of hot cocoa at a poster on the wall, you can clean it up that time, alright?”

He lets a small smile curl his lips upward and follows her as she leads him away from the mess. They walk for a little while in comfortable silence, although there’s still a guilty feeling squirming in his stomach. That, and exhaustion, and grief, and sadness, and a whole storm of other things he can’t quite put a name to.

She stills beside a dark-colored door, opens it, and steps aside to let him in. The room is small and quaint, with a few comfortable-looking chairs positioned around a bright, circular orange table. Some bookshelves line the walls, and a desk sits in the corner of the room with a couple of papers scattered atop it. There’s a small desk lamp on the left side, also orange in color. “I’m not sure I’ve seen this room before,” he tells her as he pulls a chair out and flops down into it. He adjusts his tie as she pulls out the chair beside him.

“Not many people know of it. I come here to work sometimes when I get a little stressed from everyone else.” B-15 turns toward him and gives him a knowing look. “We need to talk about it, Mobius. You’ve been managing your caseloads fine, but I know it’s bothering you. Clearly,” she says, gesturing to the room they’re in. “Didn’t I tell you that you could step back? The position is always going to be open for you.”

Mobius’ fingers continue to fiddle with the tie between his hands, even after he’s adjusted it more comfortably. “I thought–I was hoping–the distraction would come in handy.” He looks at the dark, wooden walls that line the room, and tries to find faces in the grain. “Doing work here, I thought it would be better than doing nothing at all. Trying to help where I can. Trying to help maintain the timelines that he saved.”

He doesn’t want to say Loki’s name. It feels too real, somehow. He’s worried it will feel unfamiliar on his tongue. It's like too much time has passed and Loki has traveled too far away. So out of reach that he can’t be real anymore. Like he’s become something abstract in his absence, a myth or a legend, the story of a savior that skirts the line between truth and fiction. Something of a fantasy, instead of someone that Mobius knew once upon a time. Not long ago at all, and still so long that he sometimes has to wonder if he’d ever been there at all. Loki feels more like a character that might’ve been written in a book of fairy tales instead of someone he’d grown close to. Someone he could never take his eyes off of. Someone tangible and sincere. Flesh and blood beneath his fingertips.

“You’re doing good work here,” B-15 says. “All of the branches have been kept safe from harm. We’re locating He Who Remains variants all the time. But you can’t do your best if you can’t take care of yourself, Mobius. I know I didn’t know him as well as you, but I think I knew him enough to say he wouldn’t want you to push yourself like this. You’re helping where you can, and he–”

“He isn’t here,” Mobius cuts her off, and it doesn’t feel good, the way that it settles in the air between them. B-15 looks at him sadly, and it makes him feel worse. He pushes himself forward in his seat and looks away from her as he lets it all spill out from where it’s all started bunching together beneath his chest. “He’s not here and I still see him everywhere. I walk into the automat and I see him picking at his pie, I walk into the library and I see him sleeping, I sit at my desk and I see his chair pulled up next to mine. Everywhere I look I see where he isn’t. And I want to be here because to be here is the only thing I can do. I can’t live a life on the timeline that isn’t mine, and I can’t just pretend he isn’t gone. I can’t just… move on with my life.”

He pauses for a moment, searching for the words in his head to describe how he’s feeling. “Being here is the only choice I have, even if it hurts to be here at all. It’s the only place I can figure out where he’s gone to. The only place I can figure out how to get him back. And I have to believe there’s a way to get him back,” he tells her, “because if I never see him again I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do with myself. Loki is–” He almost trips over his name, and he swallows to try to ease the tightness in his throat. “He’s stubborn and a little cocky and easily distracted and he’s also caring and attentive and thoughtful and apparently the most selfless person in all of existence, and I miss him. And I don’t know what to do with it. With all of it.”

“You come to me about it,” she tells him. “Or O.B. Or Casey. You’re not alone, Mobius. You’re not the only one who misses him.”

At some point, tears have gathered in his vision. The bookshelves in front of him get blurry. He tries to blink them away.

“B., I–” he clears his throat, “I am so angry with him. And I feel guilty about being angry at him. And I wish he was here.” There’s a tight, twisty feeling in his chest as he thinks about telling her the truth that he hasn’t let himself speak aloud. He thinks of Loki, somewhere far off in the universe, away from everything he’s grown fond of, away from all of his friends.

He thinks of all he’d do to get him back to them. All he’d do to get him back to him. He thinks of soft hands and blue eyes and green magic and fond looks and small smiles and toothy grins and it feels like his heart spasms beneath his chest.

“I love him.”

It feels lighter than he thought it would, the truth.

Some of the weight on his shoulders eases.

He likes the way it sounds.

Suddenly, there’s a hand being placed gently on his own, and when he turns to look at her, B-15 has a smile on her lips and a kindness in her eyes.

“I know.”

He blinks.

He blinks again.

And then he furrows his eyebrows.

“You know?”

“Well,” she shrugs, “you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“What?”

Mobius thinks he should maybe feel embarrassed, but he’s mostly baffled. Not subtle?

He thinks of all the times he’s found himself zoned out and staring at Loki. He thinks of placing his hand on his back, leading him somewhere with his arm around his waist, fingers brushed against his own, or a foot in between his legs while they sit at a table. He thinks of smiling at him for longer than is probably appropriate, of vouching for him again and again, of being by his side every time he has the opportunity to be.

It is possible, he reasons, that he has, in fact, been less subtle than he realized.

“You look at him like I’ve never seen you look at anyone else,” B-15 says. “You never take your eyes off him.”

Mobius tries to ignore the way that makes him feel. “You’re the only one who picked up on this, right?”

She shrugs, which isn’t very helpful.

Mobius crosses his arms over his chest and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how it happened. Just that it did. He came into the TVA–he came into my life–and everything was different after that.” He kicks at the floor and scuffs his shoe against the tiles. “Even with all that’s happened… I wouldn’t change any of it. Except for the part, you know, where he went bye-bye.”

“He did it for everything, everyone,” she tells him. “That includes you.”

“I know. And I–” He sits up a bit, to look at her better. “I don’t care if he doesn’t feel the same way that I feel about him. I don’t need him to. I can live without that, even if it stings a little. I just want him back. Any way I can have him.”

“Well,” B-15 tilts her head toward him, “get him back, then.”

“Like it’s that easy?” He huffs a breath through his nose. “I’ve been trying to piece it together, but barely. I’m still not sure where to really start.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she says, “because it’ll drive you crazy if you don’t. And you don’t have to figure it out yourself. I’m sure O.B. would love to help. And Casey. And if you need me for anything, I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

She pauses for a moment and takes her hand off of his to prop up her face, elbow on the table. “Loki deserves a life here if that’s what he wants. It feels weird without him here, even if he wasn’t here for that long. Of course, whatever you do to get him back, make sure you manage to keep the timelines safe. We don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Mobius smiles at her. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen to any of the branches with you at the helm here.”

B-15 smiles back.

“You’ll figure it out, Mobius. I know you will.”

He hopes she’s right.

After his talk with B-15, Mobius does his best to seek out the other's help.

More often than not, he finds himself perched up on the counter in the Repairs and Advancement department. He offers O.B. a hand with whatever he’s working on when he can, but for the most part, O.B. bustles around and keeps himself busy while Mobius throws theories in the air rapid-fire. Mostly it’s inane, rambling, mindless nonsense that neither of them can make anything out of.

Sometimes, O.B. starts talking to himself, numbers and calculations and words that Mobius doesn’t recognize beneath his breath. When that happens he keeps himself quiet to not distract him, and instead explores the room, investigating parts of it he hasn’t before. His shoes click-clack against the tiled floors as he meanders around, fidgeting with trinkets and gadgets and touching things he probably shouldn’t be.

There are small computers, disassembled TemPads, and tiny, handheld calculators. There are file cabinets and desk lamps and so many papers and files strewn all over the place Mobius has to wonder how O.B. keeps track of anything in the room. He’s always fluttering about in a flurry, some sort of organized chaos that Mobius can’t help but be impressed by.

Now, he sits on the floor with his legs stretched out as he absentmindedly flips through the second volume of the TVA handbook. O.B. is busy assembling something behind the counter–Mobius can hear him tinkering while he talks to himself. From where he sits, he can see the doorway leading into the room, the counter he and Loki stood at while they tried to figure out his time-slipping. If he tries hard enough, he can kid himself into thinking he sees the shape of Loki standing there again.

There’d been a clumsy shaking of hands, Loki knocking over a pneumatic tube, Mobius completely misremembering the last time he’d been here (had he just forgotten throughout his ridiculously long lifespan? Or had his memories from four hundred years ago been wiped, too?) and black hair framing a cheeky grin, arm on the counter and eyes on his. And then, minutes later, Loki time-slipping back into the present only to (rudely) bump into Mobius and nearly knock him over. He’d been too mortified by the concept of his skin peeling off to pay it much mind then, but the memory of Loki’s small ”Hi,” pulls a smile to his lips, now.

He’s skimmed through the handbook a few times, but everything in it still doesn’t mean much to him. There are a few things he recognizes–temporal aura, temporal radiation, and a theoretical diagram of the tree composed of all the timelines–the Tree of Time–but aside from that, everything flies past his head. He’d asked O.B. once if he’d tutor him in the art of quantum physics and engineering and whatnot, but after O.B. told him it would take him centuries to learn it all, he’d quickly given up on that idea.

He needs to take what he knows–what he’s good at–and figure out how to apply it here. How to use the best of himself to find Loki. But he isn’t sure what good a failed-hunter, washed-up analyst can pull off here. This isn’t exactly his area of expertise.

And yet, there’s no use dwelling on it. Mobius may not be some mastermind of science, but he’s not an idiot either. He’ll figure something out. He has no other choice.

Mobius tosses the handbook to his left and grabs a file folder sitting on the floor beside him. He flips it open, pulls a pen out of his pocket and clicks it once.

His eyes flick over what he’s jotted down on a piece of paper, trying to make sense of everything he knows.

LOKI

STATUS: MISSING. PRESUMED ALIVE

LEADING THEORY: TREE OF TIME. NOT SPOTTED ON ANY RADARS.

LOCATION: UNKNOWN. INACCESSIBLE VIA. TEMPAD UNTIL COORDINATES PINPOINTED

That’s all he’s got written down. The paper stares back at him from where his hand hovers over it, pen threatening to spill ink.

How is he supposed to find someone who doesn’t want to be found?

And when he finds Loki, how is he supposed to convince him to come back? Wouldn’t he have, already, if he wanted to? If he could?

Mobius’ head hurts.

At the bottom of the page, he scribbles out a message. It’s unprofessional, and any other analyst would be scoffing at him, but this isn’t official TVA business. Not yet, anyway. Just Mobius. And, well, his friends, but they don’t need to see the papers until he figures out something they don’t already know.

I miss you.

He snaps the folder shut. He can’t think like this. He needs… a moment. To recoup and recover.

“O.B.,” he calls as he stands up, stretching his back a bit, “I have to go clear my head. Might grab a slice of pie. Want me to bring you one?”

“Pie?” O.B.’s head pops up from where he’s hidden behind the counter. “I haven’t had pie in a while.”

“You haven’t slept in a while, either.”

“Don’t need to.”

“That’s arguable. What kind do you want? I’m partial to key lime or apple myself, but–”

“Cherry. And,” O.B. puts down whatever contraption he’s holding between his hands, “I think I might come with you, actually.”

“Really?” Mobius walks toward the counter, tapping the folder against it a few times. “Who’s gonna watch over the room?”

“Well, it managed fine when I stepped out to help save the timelines from collapsing,” O.B. shrugs. “Should be fine now.”

Mobius pats him on the shoulder as he steps out, and they walk together toward the automat. There’s a smile on his lips as he tries to convince his friend to try a bit of his pie.

“Have you ever even had key lime pie? It’s delicious. No way you haven’t had apple.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m getting cherry pie, Mobius.”

“When Loki gets back, he’ll tell you I’m right. Although, now that I think about it… I’m not sure I actually saw him take a bite of it.”

“I know what’s right. And it’s cherry pie.”

“You ever had cherry pie from McDonald’s?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been. Hard to go anywhere when you’re the only employee in the department.”

“I think we should visit Sylvie, sometime. Get you some from there.”

“Is that such a good idea?”

“Oh, she might get pissed off about it. But yeah, I think.”

When he walks into the automat with his friend next to him, the sight of it hurts a little less than it normally does.

Pie with O.B. becomes a commonality. The engineer tries several new slices of pie but denies Mobius’ offer of key lime every time. He tells him he’ll only try it when Loki gets back. It’s a small thing, but he appreciates it. Eventually, slices of pie with O.B. turn into sandwiches with B-15  turn into smoothies with Casey turn into snack breaks with all of them.

It’s a welcome lull in between stressful hours pouring over textbooks, pacing the halls of the TVA, trying and often failing not to curse at the walls when he comes up empty for the thousandth time.

The presence of his friends helps to lighten the weight. It starts feeling a little easier to carry. Maybe they can find him, with all of their minds together. But sometimes, when his friends are talking around him, conversing easily about a new case, or a new He Who Remains variant spotted, or gossiping about other TVA agents, or even theorizing about Loki, he gets a little out of his head.

He’ll hear the sound of B-15’s voice to his left, the scrape of a fork against a plate, a question from Casey. He’ll see them in front of him, alive and present and hopeful, and he’ll focus on an empty chair. Focus on where Loki isn’t with them. Focus on where he would be if he wasn’t gone.

Mobius can’t help it, the way the memory of Loki pops up in his head and refuses to leave. He’s doing better with his friends beside him, but even the good moments feel wrong. Incomplete. Someone is missing, and nothing that anyone does can erase that. Loki’s not here. Loki’s somewhere else, far away from the rest of them, and he’s alone.

Sometimes he feels the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, a whisper in his ear. Sometimes he sees black hair out of the corner of his eye and whips around to find nothing there. Loki’s everywhere he looks, and he’s not here at all.

Sometimes Mobius will rest his head in his hands, shut his eyes, and doze off without meaning to. He almost always dreams of Loki. The feel of those new horns around his fingers, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to the top of his hand. Quiet confessions, bright blue skies, the orange of the TVA, and a tree he can’t quite piece together. He’s in his dreams in a thousand different places but Loki’s presence is always a constant. And when he wakes up, Loki’s ghost slipping between his fingers, he feels cold.

He fantasizes about their reunion, sometimes, about winding his arms around Loki and squeezing him tight, about demanding to know what he was thinking, about just holding his face in his hands for a while. Sometimes he fantasizes about kissing him until the two of them are breathless.

It’s a tried-and-true method of motivating himself out of any funks.

They meet pretty often, now, all of them. B-15 doesn’t always make it, but Casey almost always accompanies Mobius and O.B. while they work in the Repairs and Advancement department. Mobius has cleared off one of the counters lining the room, shuffling everything to the next one over after asking O.B. for permission. That’s where he’s kept all his files on Loki–where he works most of the time, sitting in a desk chair he pulled up with a green mug of coffee almost always placed precariously close to his papers. (Miraculously, he hasn’t knocked it over once.)

He sits in his chair now, arms propped on the armrest, spun around to face O.B. and Casey. O.B.’s behind the counter, staring at a computer screen while Casey peers at it from the other side.

They’ve been discussing Loki for a while and Mobius feels a little drained, a little demotivated. He reaches to take a swig of his coffee when a thought pops into his head.

“Could Miss Minutes just… find him, do you think?”

O.B. briefly glances at him, eyebrows furrowed. He looks a little disappointed, a little unimpressed.

“Okay, alright. Not my best idea. You can just say no.”

“No,” he tells him and focuses his attention back on the computer.

Mobius groans and slinks down in his chair a bit, bringing his free hand up to rub at his temples. “What are we missing?”

“What aren’t we?” Casey asks.

“Helpful,” he huffs.

“What ideas have we gone through so far?” He looks toward Mobius, who reaches for a file folder and starts reading the list of things he’s jotted down inside of it.

“Let’s see. Trying to track his aura didn’t work ‘cause the last trace of it was right where he walked into the portal. It fizzled out beyond that. O.B. tried to pick up on any bits of temporal radiation anywhere, but couldn’t find even a hint of it. It’s safe to assume the Tree of Time isn’t emitting radiation. O.B.’s pinpointed some of the emptiest parts of the universe as-is and there’s been no sight of him there.”

He sighs. There aren’t many things they’ve covered, only because they keep coming up empty for ideas. “I’m not sure where to look. Could we use Loki’s magic, maybe?”

O.B.’s head perks up.

“What are you thinking?”

Mobius leans forward. He sets the file aside. “I wasn’t really thinking. Just throwing stuff out there.” He scratches at his mustache for a second, letting the idea bounce around in his head. After Loki had destroyed the Loom, he’d brought the branches back to life with his magic. If they’re infused with it, then maybe picking up on it will lead them to the Tree. Lead them to Loki.

He stands up and walks over to O.B., mind whirling as he starts to piece the idea together. “The branches have Loki’s magic in them, right? If we can, I don’t know, tap into the frequency of that magic couldn’t we locate where it is in the universe? Could it lead us to the Tree?”

O.B. tilts his head. A thoughtful look passes over his face. “It… could. Theoretically.”

“Okay. Okay,” He claps his hands together. “So–just track the frequency. That’s easy, right?”

“Sure,” he agrees. “If we knew its specific wavelength. It’s typically different for every person.”

Mobius glances at Casey. Casey shrugs at him. “Don’t look at me.”

“Magic was banned in the TVA for the longest time,” Mobius frowns. “How’d we manage that if it’s different for everyone?”

“All magic exists on the same frequency,” O.B. explains, “but the wavelengths are rarely identical. Some are long, some are short, some in between. Regardless of the length of any waves, the TVA eliminated the usage of magic by blocking the frequency entirely.”

Mobius rests his hands on his hips, fingers tapping against the fabric of his pants. “Okay… how do we figure out the wavelength of Loki’s magic?”

“Well… if you and I had magic, our wavelengths would be different. But if we were two variants of the same person… we’d likely have the same wavelength.”

Mobius blinks.

“That’s it?”

O.B. nods. “I think so, but I could always be wrong. I’ve never looked into this before, but it makes sense.”

“So… if we managed to figure out the wavelength of any Loki variant’s magic… we’d be able to find the Tree?”

“Yes. We could scan for any waves identical to that of Loki’s magic.”

Mobius takes a deep breath. Figure out the wavelength, track it, find the Tree, find Loki. Only four steps. Only four steps between him and Loki. He might not be so far away after all.

“This might not lead anywhere,” Casey warns him. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Well, it’s our best bet.” Mobius tries to settle the spark of excitement threatening to burst in his chest. Best not to get too worked up, lest the plan fail. It wouldn’t be the first time. Just focus on each step of the plan. One at a time.

First, they need the magic of any Loki variant.

Lucky for him, he knows one.

Mobius pulls his TemPad out from his pocket and flips it open. “I think it’s time I pay Sylvie that visit.”

Broxton, Oklahoma is a very underwhelming place to be. Mobius stands in front of this McDonald’s for the second time in his life and wonders what in the world about it is so appealing to Sylvie. He’s set the TemPad to a week or two later than the last time he was here. He hopes she might appreciate the little break from the TVA she had.

He also hopes that Sylvie agrees to his plan at all. He’d rather not have to scour the timelines for another Loki variant and kidnap him from his life just to scan him and send him back to whence he came. The ethics there seem a little flimsy.

The door swings open with a push. Mobius scans the restaurant in front of him, eyes skimming over all the people sitting, eating, and talking. Closest to the door he hovers near, a dark-haired woman is sitting across from a blond man. Her hand reaches out to touch his. They’re both laughing. Mobius ignores the tiny flare of jealousy he feels and makes his way to the counter.

Sylvie is… not there.

Instead, a different woman stands behind it. Her skin is brown and tucked beneath a red-and-white hat are a few stray curls. He taps his fingers against the counter and reads the nametag on her chest. Jamie.

“Hi,” she says with a small smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Jamie. Lovely name,” he tells her. “I came here to see my friend Sylvie. Would you happen to know when her break is?”

“Oh, sure.” Jamie points behind her with her thumb. “She’s on her break now, actually. Out back, I think.” She tilts her head slightly. “She’s been a little popular lately. Sylvie’s really nice, but I wasn’t sure if she had many friends. Well, until someone came to see her just a few weeks ago. I think maybe she’s got a secret boyfriend she didn’t tell any of us about.”

Mobius’ eye does not twitch. That would be ridiculous.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he lies through his teeth. “Thank you so much for your help, though. Have a good day,” he tells her with a smile and walks out the door to go find Sylvie.

He kicks a bit at the concrete beneath his feet as he walks past the cars in the drive-thru. It’ll be nice to see Sylvie again, even if he thinks the sight of him might immediately put a scowl on her face. She probably hadn’t meant it when she told him she’d see him around. Or, if she had, maybe she hoped it would be on her terms.

Mobius rounds the corner and sees her leaning against the wall, a cup between her hands. Her hair’s strewn over her shoulders, waving a bit with the wind. She’s gazing out at the sky and doesn’t turn at the sound of his footsteps. She lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip.

“Coke?” He asks, stopping just a little ways away from her. He squints a bit with the sunlight in his eyes. She briefs a glance at him. No scowl passes her face, but she does let out a small sigh as she looks back at the sky.

“Orange.” Sylvie gives the cup in her hand a little twirl. He can hear the sound of the ice swirling inside it.

“What?”

“Orange drink.”

Mobius furrows his eyebrows, not sure what she means by that. “And that’s… what? Orange… soda? Orange juice?”

“You’ve never gone to McDonald’s and had an orange drink?” She looks at him now, a bit unimpressed.

“I don’t make pit stops here all that often.”

“Right. Too busy at the TVA.” Sylvie scoffs. “No orange drink there?”

“No.”

She thrusts her hand out at him and shakes the cup. “Try it.”

He looks at her in peculiarity, but leans forward and takes a sip anyhow.

It does, in fact, taste orange.

“Not bad,” he states, then leans against the wall beside her.

“I know.”

There’s a beat of silence between them. Mobius isn’t sure how to broach the topic he came here to discuss. He could say Hi Sylvie, I need to scan you to go rescue Loki from wherever he ended up because he’s all alone and I’m in love with him, or he could say, Would you mind if I scanned you to go save the variant you that you ditched, or maybe even Sylvie I need your help.

That last one probably works the best.

“I need your help.”

Sylvie drops her hand to her side. The ice clatters inside the cup. “Of course you do. You know, I can’t get a moment’s peace around here. Loki saved all of the timelines,” she says, gesticulating with her free hand. “What more is there to do?”

“Save Loki,” he tells her. “I need to find him.”

“Save Loki? From the choice he made? From the choice that saved everyone?” She looks at him like he’s crazy, and maybe he is, but that doesn’t matter. “He made a choice, Mobius. Are you going to take that away from him?”

“Sylvie, I’m not going to undo what he’s done.” He shakes his head. “But wherever he is, he’s alone. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“He’s alone? How do you know?”

“Well, I didn’t see anyone follow him into that portal,” he huffs. “And hey, if he isn’t, I can turn around and walk away. Leave him and his new best friend to protect the Tree together.”

She squints at him.

“Are you jealous of a person that isn’t real?”

Mobius clears his throat and does not answer the question.

“Mobius, is your friendship with Loki more than just that?”

He talks over her, crossing his arms over his chest. “That is not what I came here to talk about.”

She smiles at him, now, lifting her cup to take a sip from her orange drink. “It makes sense. I can see it.”

“What? Me and–?”

“Sure. He’s got that twinkle in his eye when he looks at you.”

Mobius rubs at the back of his neck and ignores the sudden rush of warmth in his face. “Okay, listen. Regardless of any hypothetical feelings for Loki–”

“I wouldn’t say hypothetical. It’s a little obvious, now that I think about it. Not sure how I missed that.”

“–I need to know if you’ll help me find him.”

Sylvie doesn’t answer him immediately. Her fingers tap against her cup as she bites at the tip of her straw. “If I do this for you, do you promise to never bother me again?”

“Well–”

“Never again?”

“Sure.” He pauses. “Do friendly visits count?”

She lets out a thoughtful hmm, then slowly shakes her head. “I suppose not, but why would you want to visit me anyway?”

He shrugs. “I like you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

She smiles, then rolls her eyes and looks away from him and at the sky again. “I guess I might consider you something along those lines.”

“So… what do you think?” Mobius can’t help but feel hopeful, with the way Sylvie’s face has softened into something kinder. “Will you help me find him?”

“Alright, fine. I’ll help you.” She pushes herself off the wall and starts walking away from him. He’s quick to catch up to her. “Just give me a minute, alright? I’m grabbing a thing of fries if I’m going to be helping you lot.”

“Oh, I’ll come with you. I need to grab a cherry pie for O.B. anyway.” Sylvie gives him a look, and tells him deadpan,

“You’re gonna have to pay for that.”

“I’m sorry, what is it we’re trying to do here?”

Sylvie’s sitting on the counter with her hands in her lap, boots kicking at the side of it. Her orange drink sits to her left, a thing of fries perched against it that Casey has been unsubtly glancing at. O.B. is hunched over a metal table that wasn’t here when Mobius left. He’s tinkering with something, a small device with a handle and a screen. Every few moments O.B. points it at the table and a red laser shoots out of it. Whatever it is he’s testing, he doesn’t seem satisfied when he turns the laser back off.

“I need to scan you,” he tells her, leaning over to grab a wrench. “Or your magic… both, technically. If I figure out your magic's wavelength, I can scan the universe for that wave. Theoretically, that should lead us to the Tree of Time–assuming it’s still infused with Loki’s magic.”

“Didn’t you already scan me?” Sylvie asks. “You know, when the TVA first kidnapped me and ruined my life?”

“That scans for temporal aura,” O.B. says, “which is almost the same thing. But instead of that, we’re scanning for your magic. Your magic isn’t included in your aura.”

“Why?”

O.B. looks at her. “I’m not sure. If I had to make an assumption, it might be because your magic is not intrinsically linked to your being.”

Sylvie sighs and wraps a strand of hair around her fingers, eyes locked on the floor. “What’s stopping you from using this scan against me?”

“Sylvie, what would we do with it?” Mobius scoffs. She shrugs at him.

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t be the first time the TVA took advantage of me.”

He frowns. She’s got a point, he supposes. Historically speaking, the TVA has a subpar track record. But now they’re trying to fix it. And Mobius isn’t asking this of her as a TVA agent, anyway. He’s asking her as a friend.  “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

She looks at him for a few silent seconds. Then she frowns and shakes her head. “No. I suppose not.”

He smiles at her before he walks over to O.B. to peer at the contraption he’s tinkering with. “So what are you doing here?”

Casey speaks up from where he’s standing by the computer, fingers dancing over the keyboard. “O.B. is trying to alter a temporal aura scanner so that it doesn’t scan Sylvie’s aura, but her magic instead.”

“Is that going to work?” He tries to catch O.B.’s eye, but the man is focused on the machine he’s working with. Sylvie pipes up from behind them,

“Why is it so small?”

“It’ll be faster to alter this than to make something entirely new from scratch. The temporal aura scanners near the lobby of the TVA weren’t always there. For a few thousand years TVA agents had to scan variants manually, with–” O.B. picks up the object he’s been messing with and points it at her, “these!”

“I don’t remember these,” Mobius frowns, leaning over to peer at it. It sort of resembles a TemPad, except for the backside of it that comes to a laser-shooting point. “Why don’t I remember these?”

“Your memory was erased, remember?” Sylvie tells him. “‘Course you don’t remember.”

“Right.” Mobius deadpans. O.B. suddenly thrusts the Magic-Scanner-Thing in Mobius’ hands and straightens up with a smile. “I keep… forgetting that. What do you want me to do with this, exactly?”

“Try it out.” O.B. looks at him expectantly.

“Try out the thing that shoots a laser?”

“Yes.”

“Well… I’m not magical. It would be useless on me. Really, I think it’s best if we just scan Sylvie with it first–”

“Absolutely not,” Sylvie says at the same time that O.B. shakes his head to tell him,

“Can’t. If it’s faulty and we scan you with it, the results will just come up empty because you have no magic. If it’s faulty and we scan Sylvie with it, I’m not sure what will happen… but it won’t be very good. Her magic might be stripped. The scanner might combust. Worst case scenario, somebody gets immolated.”

“Somebody gets what, O.B.?”

O.B. shrugs. “It should be working fine now, I think.” Then he frowns. “Alright, let me look at it again.” Mobius doesn’t even have the chance to hand it to him before he’s plucking it back out of his hands. O.B. taps the device on and a small outline of him appears on the screen as he turns it around on himself.

“Wait, O.B., hold on a second–” Mobius isn’t quick enough to pull the scanner out of his hands before he clicks the laser on. It shoots up to the top of his head and starts mapping over his body in slow movements. The further it progresses, the more filled in the diagram of O.B. becomes on the screen.

“I think it’s working!” Casey shouts from the computer. Sylvie leans back to peer at it while Mobius can only stare at O.B. in fear. He’d said worst case someone gets immolated, right? Mobius lets his eyes dart around the room, mildly afraid to take them off of O.B. Is there a fire extinguisher in here? Room full of scrap and trash and trinkets and gadgets and there’s not a single fire extinguisher in here?

“What am I looking at here?” Sylvie asks. Mobius feels sweat on his palms as he risks a glance at the ceiling. When was the last time someone checked if those sprinklers were up to code?

“The scanner is analyzing O.B.’s frequency. That’s what this is.” Casey points to the screen as he starts explaining things to Sylvie while Mobius spots a fire extinguisher on one of the top shelves of the cabinets. “Because he doesn’t have magic, it’s only giving us the frequency of him. If it scanned you, it would give us both.”

“Sylvie,” Mobius whisper-hisses at her, and she looks at him as he points to the fire extinguisher. “Fire extinguisher. Can you get that for me?”

“You can’t get it yourself?”

“You have magic, Sylvie, I don’t want to climb up that shelf and knock everything over.”

Sylvie rolls her eyes at him, but turns around and lifts her hand anyway. Mobius watches as the fire extinguisher floats up and off the shelf. Just as it’s almost within reaching distance, it starts plummeting. “Casey, hands off my fries.”

“Just one?” Casey asks.

“Sylvie, the fire extinguisher!”

“Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late, I had a meeting run a little later than I thought it would. What’s happening in here?” Mobius turns his attention toward the doorway as B-15 walks in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she looks around the room and at the four of them. He takes the moment to glance back at O.B.

O.B. is still focused on his scanner, laser flickering over his body. He waves at B-15. Given the lack of a loud clank in the room, Mobius assumes that Sylvie’s caught the extinguisher, but turns around to confirm anyway. She appears to be in a standoff with Casey, one of her hands hovering over one of his, a fry between his fingers. The fire extinguisher is no longer falling but floating in the air, and Mobius reaches up to grab it. He swivels around to O.B., fire extinguisher between his hands and ready to spray.

When he looks at him, the laser is scanning over his feet before it abruptly blinks out. Mobius waits a few seconds until O.B. fixes his glasses to look at the screen of the device before he slumps over and lets out a sigh of relief.

B-15 slowly walks over to the counter. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on? Sylvie, when did you get here? I didn’t think I’d see you again for–well. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Waiting for O.B. to do–something,” Sylvie tells her. “Scanning my magic to find Loki. Only here to help out and then I’m gone again. For real, this time. Mobius promised.” She glances at him, then offers her fries to B-15. “Would you like a fry?”

“I’m good, thank you.” 

Casey sounds affronted, “How come–”

“Because she’s not trying to steal them from me, Casey.”

Casey ignores that comment with a frown, tossing his fry in his mouth before Sylvie can stop him. He ignores the death glare she gives him and instead beckons O.B. over. The two of them look at the computer together, and O.B. reaches down to pull a notebook out from under the counter and begins to write something in it.

“How’ve you been running things, B-15? Ready to give up on the place and make your home on the timeline yet?”

“No, Sylvie, I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Well. McDonald’s is actually quite fun to work at if you’re ever interested.”

Mobius stays back for a moment to watch the people in front of him. B-15 and Sylvie are both peering over the counter at the computer screen, now. O.B. is still writing, transcribing whatever Casey’s telling him onto the paper. Mobius watches B-15 hesitantly reach over to take one of Sylvie’s fries. Sylvie only smiles at her. After a moment, O.B. perks up and starts talking, and everyone’s attention is on him again.

His heart tugs in his chest at the sight of it all.

When he approaches the counter to peer at the computer screen, the emptiness at his side still feels cold.

“...so this is my frequency. When we scan you, we’ll see a similar frequency–and then a different one for your magic. From that, we can determine the wavelength of your magic and scan for that specific wave to find anything in the universe that matches it. It should lead us to Loki.” O.B. explains, pointing to different things on the screen.

“And just to make things clear,” Sylvie slowly asks as she hops down from the counter, “I am not going to burst into flames?”

“Well, I didn’t.” O.B. points his scanner at Sylvie. “Should be fine.”

Mobius frowns and holds up the fire extinguisher again.

They all stand there in anticipatory silence as the laser shoots out of the scanner and starts making its way down Sylvie’s body. She looks nervous but doesn’t try to stop it. The scanner bathes her body in red light, and her fingers clench and unclench at her sides. When it reaches her chest, O.B. speaks up.

“There. See that?” He points at the screen on the scanner and Mobius looks at it. Where O.B.’s body had been filled in with just white, there are bits of green speckled throughout Sylvie’s form on the screen. “That’s her magic. The scanner is picking up on it. The frequency should be fed through to the computer.”

“It’s working?” Mobius asks, helpless to the hope trying to wiggle into his heart. “Can we find him?”

“We’re still going to have to scan for the waves.” O.B. looks at him. “If we’re wrong about our theory, it won’t lead to him.”

“Well, let’s not be wrong, then,” he says. “Casey, anything?”

“I think the second frequency is coming through,” Casey tells him. “This should be Sylvie’s magic.” Mobius walks over to the computer to see what he’s looking at. There are two separate waves on the screen, both of differing wavelengths. The second one has much shorter ones, and he points at it as he asks Casey a question.

“Is that one her magic?”

“Yes,” he explains. “There’s the wavelength. If we scan for waves on the frequency that magic occurs at with this specific wavelength, it should lead us to Loki. Theoretically.”

“Okay. How do we scan it?”

“Can I go now?” The laser has shut off. Sylvie dusts herself off as though there may be any laser residue on her. “Everything all set?”

“Why don’t you wait until we get Loki back?” Mobius asks. “You know, in case we still need your help.”

Sylvie sighs and takes a seat at the table. B-15 plucks her drink and fries off the counter, then walks to the table to give them to Sylvie. “Thank you. Would you like a sip? It’s orange.”

“Orange?” B-15 raises an eyebrow as she pulls a chair up beside her.

“O.B.” Mobius turns to him. “How do we scan for this?”

“Miss Minutes can help with that,” he says. “Casey, can you get her?”

“Sure thing.”

Casey grabs his TemPad and opens it. Within a few seconds, Miss Minutes is hopping out of the screen. With a smile, she asks, “Hi, everybody. How can I help?”

“Miss Minutes, we need you to scan for magic waves of this length,” O.B. tells her. “It’s on the screen here. Keep in mind, we need you to scan the whole universe, so it might take a–”

“I’ve detected some! Would you like me to pull the coordinates up?”

“Yes,” Mobius says, eyes darting to her. He can’t help it, his heart starts to race. “Yes, yes.”

Miss Minutes pulls up a hologram of a coordinate plane. She scrolls through it for a while, until it reaches an abrupt stop. Then, small coordinate points begin to appear out of nowhere–at first only a few, and then several, and then so many so fast that Mobius can’t keep track of them all.

He doesn’t have to, because by the time the points have filtered out they’ve painted an image on the screen.

It’s a tree.

“It worked,” O.B. says. He seems surprised. “Wow, Mobius. That was great thinking.”

Mobius wants to say something, anything, but he can’t speak. There’s a thousand words stuck in his throat. He stares at the screen in front of him–at the picture of this tree–and feels something swell in his chest. Suddenly, he feels dizzy, nauseous, and like maybe the lights are a little too bright. The screen gets a little blurry and he grips the counter to keep himself balanced and blinks a few times to try to clear his head.

“That’s–” He clears his throat. “That’s where he is.”

After all this time with nothing, and finally, they may have a plan that works. Not another failed attempt, but something that will finally lead Mobius back to Loki. He could be only moments away from seeing him again. From holding him again. He hadn’t held him enough before he lost him.

He thinks of the last time–the only time–he’d hugged him, chin on his shoulder as Loki’s fingers gripped at the back of his shirt. He’d have held him longer if he’d known it would have been the last. Told him all of the things he can’t tell him now–that he’s proud of him, that he loves him, that he hopes he’ll see him again. He hears thank you, my friend echo in his head and it almost sounds like Loki’s here, saying it to him again. You’re my favorite, he’d told him. Sure, he’d sort of teasingly directed it to Sylvie, but they’d both known he meant it for Loki.

If only Loki had known how much.

And then Mobius thinks of the last time he’d been between Loki’s arms at all–after he’d knocked into him with a force that sent them both flying across the floor and saved his life. He could hardly feel him with the weight of the suit on his body, but his heart thumped not only from adrenaline as Loki rolled him over and off of him. He’d kept his arm on his side, and Mobius felt the phantom embrace long after he’d taken the suit off.

He needs to have Loki between his arms again. Needs to feel him, solid and certain underneath his hands. Assurance that he’s real, safe, alive. He might cling to him for eternity if Loki lets him. He might never let go.

Mobius snaps out of his head at the sound of Miss Minutes’ voice. “All of the waves seem to condense in this one point,” She explains. She points to the center of the tree. “This is where the concentration is highest.”

“O.B., can you–” Mobius puts a hand to his forehead. “Can you put those coordinates–the ones at the center–in for me? Find out where that is?”

“I don’t think we have to,” Casey says. “Look at that.”

Mobius squints at the hologram as he tries to figure out what Casey’s getting at.

And then it hits him. When he looks closer, at the opposite end of the hologram, there are colorful, flickering squares.

“Miss Minutes, can you–” he points at them, “show me what that is?”

She pulls at the hologram to reveal a glitching mass. Some of the branches of Loki’s tree extend toward it–almost touching, but not quite.

Mobius stares blankly at it.

That is the Void at the End of Time.

And Loki’s tree exists just beyond it.

“I think I need a minute,” he says, and he pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he shuts his eyes.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” He hears O.B. say. “Miss Minutes shouldn’t be able to pick up on anything past the Void.”

“Maybe Loki wants us to find him?” Casey asks.

“But I’m not sure how that would affect our radars…”

“Renslayer showed me that,” Sylvie says. “She told me there was no way to get past the Void with the TemPad because there was nothing there to lock onto, so I pruned myself to get to the Void. And then we had to get past Alioth to find He Who Remains at the Citadel.”

“Please, no.” Mobius covers his face with his hands now. “I don’t want to see that again. Just the first time was enough.”

“Well, I’m not sure you have to. When we were in Chicago, I sent her to the Citadel with my TemPad.”

Mobius takes his hands off his face to look at her. “What? When did you do that?”

“After you left me with her. What, did you think I’d killed her?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Mobius frowns, “but maybe a little. You did kill He Who Remains. And lots of Hunters. You don’t have a great track record.”

“Can you blame me?” Sylvie crosses her arms over her chest. “I sent her there instead of killing her. Figured it’d be worse. Hadn’t counted on her leaving so easily.”

“Right. So you can send me there, then.” Mobius makes his way over to her as he realizes what she’s saying. “Just like that. No stupidly dangerous conquest?”

“Not this time,” she smiles. Then she pulls out her TemPad and a Time Door appears in front of her. “There you go. Should take you right to the Citadel. Or whatever’s there now,” she says, gesturing to the tree on the hologram. “Loki, I assume.”

Mobius stares at the Time Door and suddenly everything feels too real. His head is spinning. His heart races beneath his chest and his palms get clammy and he wonders how likely it is that he’s going to have a heart attack right here, right now, and somehow manage to die before he can even make it to Loki.

And yet, despite the sudden nerves, his feet are taking him to the door before he even realizes it. He pauses for a moment in front of it to look around at his friends, who are all watching and waiting. “Okay,” he says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but when I come back, I’m coming back with Loki.” Or not at all, he thinks, but only to himself.

Sylvie smiles. “Go get him.”

Mobius stares at the door, hand hovering in front of it.

Just on the other side of this door is everything he’s been waiting for. After what’s felt like a lifetime of yearning for someone he once had, here’s his chance to get him again. To feel him again. To see him again.

Mobius takes a deep breath.

I’m going to see him again.

He walks through the door.

Black stones crunch beneath Mobius’ feet. He hears the Time Door close behind him just as a pebble rolls off a rock and scatters away. Mobius turns his head to watch it fall. It echoes as it bounces against the cliffside, falling until it lands somewhere far beyond Mobius’ line of sight. Then he reaches down and touches his fingertips to the ground to feel the cold, jagged stone there. When he looks closer, he realizes there are streaks of gold throughout it. It almost looks like any cracks in the rock here have been filled in with it. He traces a line of it with his fingers, pressing them between the line where sharp, black stone meets smooth gold.

He stands and shifts his gaze upward.

His breath hitches in his chest.

Everything is green. Up, down, left and right, everything is bathed in green light. Thick, glowing green strands surround him, some darker, some lighter. It reminds him of strings of yarn, knit together to form something bigger, something beyond him, something beautiful.

Mobius recognizes these for what they are, for what they’ve become. Individual branches of different timelines saved by Loki, intertwined with his magic forever. The very same ones that led him here.

He reaches his hand toward one, the tips of his fingers brushing softly against it. When they touch, the strand seems to react to him, a shockwave of white light bursting in place. It lingers for a second before it slowly fades. He traces his fingers down the side of it and light sparkles beneath his fingertips.

It makes him feel a little dizzy, touching a timeline like this, as though it’s the most casual thing in the world and not something nobody has ever done before.

Well, save for Loki, of course.

He can’t help but wonder why they’re reacting to him. They’d reacted to Loki, but of course, he’d been reviving them. Mobius is nothing but an observer. A grateful one, at least, to behold something as breathtaking as this. He thinks about how everything around him is Loki’s doing–Loki’s creation–and the whirlwind of emotions it stirs in his chest might have been enough to knock him over any other time.

Slowly, Mobius lifts his other hand to the same branch. He wraps each finger around it, gently, until his hand is wrapped around it entirely. Light blazes from the contact, his skin briefly flashing red as the glow illuminates his hand. When he pays closer attention, he can feel the thread pulsing beneath his fingers, as though the magic is breathing life through it.

It’s beautiful, and hypnotizing, and Mobius isn’t sure how long he spends standing there, watching stars spark between his hands and feeling the echo of a beating heart.

Eventually, he looks away and lets go. The empty air between his fingers almost feels unfamiliar. He turns around in place, examining his surroundings. The black, stone hill carves into a staircase in front of him. It extends so far that Mobius can’t see the top, but when he looks just beyond that–as far as his neck can stretch–he can see the sky bathed in brilliant, blue and purple lights.

It’s like an aurora, if it were made of a million lights, if it sparkled and shone down upon his face, if the aurora breathed life into him. 

He reaches up as a powerful, pink blast zips between the lights, squinting his eyes against it. It illuminates his hand–the rest of him, too–and for just a second, the green is bathed in pink. But as quickly as it came, it twinkles out, and Mobius is left there, hand to the sky, reaching for something he can never grasp.

He turns to the staircase and begins to make his ascent.

It takes a long, long time.

The further he gets away from the bottom, the more his footsteps seem to echo around him. It is the only sound that fills the silence surrounding him.

Sometimes while he climbs, rocks crumble underneath his feet. Sometimes, a glimmer of gold shines in his eyes. Sometimes, he has to move a branch out of the way or duck beneath it. Sometimes, one of them hangs in the air beside him, parallel to the stairway if only for a little while, and he glides his fingers alongside it and watches it glow under his hand while he walks. When they veer back out of the path he almost mourns them until he remembers where they’re leading him to.

Who they’re leading him to.

Every step he takes, he thinks of Loki. Every step he takes, the climb gets a little easier. Except for the few times he has to pause to put his hands on his knees, take a breath, and briefly find it within himself to glare up at the top of the hill that is only just beginning to come into view.

Next time he comes here, the Time Door is going at the top.

Although, hopefully, there won’t be a next time.

If everything goes well, he and Loki will be out of here in no time with the branches safe enough to leave behind. And if worst comes to worst, Mobius has nothing better to do than to stay here for the rest of eternity.

Mobius isn’t sure how long the whole thing takes, making his way up from the bottom of the stairs to the very top. By the time he reaches it, his legs burn, and he’s a little out of breath, and he thinks he’s probably got a few more gray hairs on his already-gray head.

And then all of that fades into the distance because suddenly his heart stops pumping. His fingertips go numb and he can’t remember his name. He can’t remember anything at all. All there is, all there has ever been, all there will ever be, is this moment. Here, now, with this black stone beneath his feet and the branches of every reality in existence reaching up into the air around him.

Here, now, with Loki.

He can hardly see him with all of the branches that surround him, that he clings onto, but in between the gaps, Mobius can make him out. He’s sitting in a chair a little distance away from him. It’s glimmering gold with only hints of the black rock that makes up the ground. It’s the opposite of his crown, he realizes when he looks a little closer.

Loki’s eyes are closed. His head is leaned back against the chair, fingers wrapped between a bundle of branches. One of his hands drifts about absently, gliding up and down a few of them, hand twisting gently every so often. They glow beneath his touch, a brighter green than they already are.

Mobius thinks he should be doing something right now, something important, maybe, like breathing, or saying something, or taking a step toward him, but he can’t remember how to do anything at all.

Loki is in front of him again, for the first time in a very, very long time, and Mobius is frozen in place.

He stares at Loki and remembers, again, the last time he’d seen him face-to-face. Door between them, glass cold against his skin as he pounded on it, a racing heart, and a fear that only grew when he realized how helpless he was. Loki’s teary eyes and a soft smile and a goodbye, a goodbye, but not a real one. Certainly not a good enough goodbye to warrant leaving him forever.

Mobius reaches up to wipe at the tears in his eyes and tries not to feel silly about the fact that he’s tearing up at all. Then he clears his throat and watches Loki’s eyes spring open in shock.

He stares at him, trying not to smile at the sight of him alone, and says, matter-of-factly, “You left without saying goodbye.”

Loki does not say a thing at all. He just stares at him, their eyes making contact. Mobius doesn’t think they’ve ever gone this long face-to-face without saying anything to each other, but he doesn’t bother to break the silence. He’s content to stand here and stare at Loki until his eyes fall out. As long as he’s never out of his sight again.

Eventually, Loki’s fingers slip off of the branches he’s holding. Although he hangs on to a few of them, enough drift away to where he can see all of Loki between them. His hair’s longer, Mobius realizes. Then he remembers that his is, too.

Loki looks away from his eyes, after a moment, to examine him instead. They dart from his head to his torso to his feet, and then around him, head tilting slightly. Mobius can’t help but wonder if Loki even believes what he’s seeing–he’s been alone for how long?–and decides to take mercy on him.

He lifts his arms into the air and turns in a slow circle, trying to assure Loki that he’s here in front of him. And then he says as much as soon as he’s facing him again.

“You know, Loki, nobody’s ever thought I was so good-looking that they weren’t sure if I was real before, but I have to say I’m a little flattered.” Mobius lets the words slide off his tongue, a meager attempt at familiar playfulness to loosen the tension in the air. Although he isn’t sure it works–in fact, he thinks he might’ve caused the opposite, because Loki’s face crumples in front of him. “Oh, Loki–listen, I–” He has no idea what he’s going to say, to try to make up for it, but it doesn’t matter.

Loki abruptly pushes himself off his chair, and when he takes the first step toward him Mobius stops talking. It’s only a few moments before Loki’s in front of him, but not a second longer before his arms are wrapped around him.

If Mobius were a different, stronger, meaner man, he would shake Loki off of him and demand to know what he was thinking, how he could have left him behind like that. But as it is, Mobius is warm, understanding, and–what’s really the biggest factor here–incapable of denying Loki anything at all.

He wraps his arms around Loki, a bit surprised at the branches he finds there stretching from his cloak. It doesn’t matter, though, as he feels them drift apart to make room for his hands, where they settle at Loki’s back.

He clings to him, eyes falling shut as he does. His fingers tighten around Loki’s cloak and grip the soft fabric there. Loki’s hair tickles his neck, and the band of his crown is cold where it touches the side of his head, and everything is perfect.

Loki’s hands are gripping onto the back of his jacket. Mobius can feel the weight of them resting there, and when he feels Loki’s fingers twitch almost imperceptibly, to hold onto him tighter, his heart skips in his chest. Mobius is aware of every point of contact between the two of them. It almost burns, how warm he feels where they meet, how harshly his heart is pumping his blood through his body. It’s warm, where Loki’s chin rests on his shoulder, where his arms touch his sides, where his hands have settled, and where Loki starts to move his thumb back and forth against his back.

It’s that, he thinks, that breaks the dam. His eyes are suddenly far too wet and a few tears are dripping onto Loki’s shoulder before he can stop them. He can’t even feel embarrassed about it, about breaking like this, because Loki is here, finally, between his arms. Really here.

He pulls away from Loki, suddenly, to cup his face between his hands. He’s a little blurry in front of him through the tears in his eyes. His fingers explore the skin there, on Loki’s face, trailing over it softly. It’s his turn, now, to make sure that Loki is real. To make sure this isn’t another dream.

And Loki picks up on it, of course, because he knows him. Because they know each other.

Loki’s hand reaches up to grab one of Mobius’, fingers slotting on top of his. “I’m here,” he tells him, and oh, that’s Loki’s voice. He might have forgotten what it sounded like, after all this time, but he remembers, now, how could he have forgotten?

There are so many things Mobius wants to say to him. He wants to ask Loki why he had to be the one to go, wants to tell him how proud he is of him for what he’s done, wants to explain how badly he was hurt when he left but that he understands, really, why he had to, at least he thinks he does, anyway. But the only thing that comes out is the simplest of them all.

“I missed you,” he tells him. “I missed you.”

If Loki wasn’t crying before, he is now, because Mobius can feel a sudden wetness beneath his fingers. He wipes it out of the way with the hand Loki isn’t covering, thumb swiping softly against his cheek. He takes the opportunity to let his hand drift, turning it over to let his knuckles glide down against his face. He’s barely thinking about anything he’s doing, only guided by instinct, by the need to feel Loki’s skin against his. He’d forgotten what he felt like. He never wants to forget again.

Mobius can feel the way Loki’s jaw moves beneath his hand as he speaks. “I missed you, too,” he says, and Mobius can’t help but smile. “You can’t know how much I missed you.”

“I might have an idea,” he says, “if it’s anywhere close to how much I missed you.” He pauses for a second, to tilt his head at Loki. “But I definitely missed you more.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrow. “There’s no way you missed me more. I’m all alone out here.”

“Oh, so you only missed me ‘cause you’ve got nobody else around?”

Mobius can’t help how he teases him. It’s so easy to slide into such a familiar back-and-forth with Loki. He’d missed him, he’d missed this, their stupid banter and their nonsensical arguments and the tone of voice Loki took on when they were doing something like this. All this time that’s passed and it’s as though nothing at all has changed. Mobius wants to kiss him, now, just like he did then.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. Of course not. I missed you because–well.” Loki pauses, then. Maybe he’s trying to find the right words to say, or maybe he’s forgotten just why he missed Mobius so much, or maybe some other thing has made Loki stop. But he doesn’t care, because he can’t help himself with Loki at all, he’s come to find. He sees the pout of Loki’s lips and the crinkles of his eyes and the curls of his hair and the curve of his nose and the blues of his irises and all of it comes together to shape the most beautiful person Mobius has ever known. The person he has loved like no one else.

All of this, together, stomps out the last flame of resistance that has been fighting for oxygen inside of him.

Mobius leans forward and kisses Loki, just like that.

Like he hasn’t daydreamed about it for hours, like he hasn’t half-convinced himself Loki could never feel the same, like he hasn’t been scared that he’d ruin everything if he ever made a move.

It’s different now. With all the time they’ve spent apart, Mobius doesn’t want to spend any more of their time together without Loki knowing just how much he loves him.

His free hand comes down to rest against Loki’s chest and his lips press against his softly. He’s not afraid, exactly, but he wants to tread carefully. Mobius can feel the beat of Loki’s heart through his chest underneath his hand, how it quickens with the push of his lips. And the next thing he feels is the hand on his back sliding down to his waist, pulling him closer as Loki kisses him back.

His own heart starts to race at the feel of it.

Loki kisses him just as softly as he is at first, slow and gentle. The thumb at his waist starts to trace little circles there. Loki moves his fingers down Mobius’ hand to wrap them around his wrist, thumb pressed against the pulse point. Mobius might melt in his arms, he thinks. Loki could completely unravel him with just the push of his lips against his own, warmth radiating down his body from where they touch. He could stay like this forever–until time ceases to exist. Just him and Loki, bleeding into each other until there’s no way to tell them apart.

Loki pulls away from him for a quick breath, allowing Mobius to catch his own, only to kiss him harder when he leans back in. He tilts his head to deepen their kiss while his hand on his wrist moves to the side of his face, cupping his jaw. Mobius grabs at the nape of Loki’s neck, fingers pushing into the skin there as he chases his touch. He parts his lips, lets him in, lets him pull them deeper. Mobius’ hands reach up, forgetting about Loki’s new crown in his desire to run his fingers through his hair.

“Stupid horns,” he pulls away to say, and Loki laughs against his lips when he kisses him again.

“You don’t–” He asks in between kisses, “like them?”

“I love them,” Mobius answers, pulling away just a little to grab at a horn. It’s cold beneath his fingertips, cracked where the gold meets the stone. Loki looks up at where he holds it as Mobius caresses it, slowly gliding his fingers up and down it. “Suits you, I think.”

Loki smiles and leans forward to kiss him, softly this time. When they pull apart again, he brushes their noses together and Mobius has to close his eyes at how powerful the rush of affection he feels is. “I have wanted to do that for a very long time,” Loki tells him. Mobius doesn’t hide the smile that forms when he says this. He plants a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid. Didn’t want to lose someone so close to me.” Loki’s hand trails softly through his hair. He’s looking down at him with so much affection. He’s practically glowing with it. Happiness–contentedness–looks so beautiful on him, and Mobius can hardly believe it’s directed at him. Loki gets a little quieter as he says, “Not someone so important.”

“Me neither,” Mobius whispers, and then, with a frown, says, “It happened anyway.”

Loki looks down at him, and that warm look turns into something pained. He shifts slightly, as though he’s going to pull away, but Mobius’ hands dart to keep him in place. Mobius is never going to let Loki walk away from him ever again.

“Mobius, I had to do this.” Loki’s frowning, now, expression hurt. “I had no other choice.”

“I believe you,” Mobius tells him. All of his uncertainties about why Loki had done what he did seem to vanish in this moment, at the sincerity in his voice, at the sadness on his face. “But I don’t understand. We had a plan. What happened to it?”

Loki shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. The hand at his waist tightens, his fingers digging into the flesh there. Mobius reaches for it, slides Loki’s hand into his own. “Loki?”

“It didn’t work,” he tells him.

“What didn’t work?”

“The plan didn’t work.” Loki opens his eyes, then takes his hand off Mobius’ face to rub at his own. He massages his temples lightly as he starts to explain. “I tried so many times to make it work. It didn’t work. It couldn’t work. I couldn’t fix the Loom. Nobody could. So I had to fix it myself.”

Mobius doesn’t understand what Loki is trying to tell him. “What do you mean it didn’t work, Loki? We didn’t try the plan. Timely didn’t have the chance to go out there before you did.”

Loki smiles a bitter smile. Mobius wants to reach forward with his fingers, smooth his thumb over his lips until it softens into something genuine. “I time-slipped, Mobius. Over and over, trying to get the plan to work. It never did.”

He understands, then, what Loki is telling him. And then he feels afraid.

“How many–” Mobius furrows his eyebrows, “How many times, Loki?”

Loki is silent.

“Loki, how many times?” Mobius leans forward to meet his gaze when Loki looks away. “Loki?”

Loki shrugs, and, like it’s nothing, answers him. “I lost count after the first few thousand.”

Mobius’ head spins and he has to take a step back, but he’s careful not to let go of Loki’s hand. He squeezes it instead, grips it so tightly he’s a little worried he might hurt him, but he needs a mild amount of support while he tries to wrap his head around what he’s just been told.

“Over a thousand? Over a few thousand?” Mobius puts a hand to his head, blinks a few times. “I think I need to sit down.”

Loki lets go of his hand, but Mobius grabs it again. “No, you’re coming with me.”

He pulls the two of them to the ground and they sit side-by-side. Mobius watches the branches that cling to Loki’s cloak move with them. He finds himself staring at them while he tries to think.

Loki, in his attempt to fix the Loom, had gone through the same thing so many times he’d lost count of them. All this time Mobius had spent upset with him when Loki had gone through that? He can’t even imagine it. How had he not gone crazy?

He looks back at Loki’s face and finds him staring forlornly at the chair he had been sitting on. A throne, Mobius realizes. A prison, maybe. Trapped here to watch over all of existence, after all he’d done to save it.

Mobius doesn’t know what to say to him. There is no way to make this better.

“I’m sorry,” he settles on, but it feels like the wrong thing to say. “If I’d known–”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Loki turns toward him. “It’s a burden I didn’t want you to bear. You couldn’t have helped me, Mobius. This is what had to happen.”

“We could have figured something out,” Mobius tells him, but he isn’t sure how much he believes it even when he says it. Loki gives him a look like he can read right through it. He probably can. “I would have tried. I would have tried forever.”

“I know you would have.” He smiles. “That’s precisely why I didn’t want to tell you. If I’d told you, you’d have stopped me from going out.”

“Of course, I would have. Are you kidding me? Loki, you–this isn’t–there has to be a better solution.”

“I spent centuries searching for one, Mobius!” Loki shouts, suddenly, and Mobius briefly shuts his eyes at the sound of it. He doesn’t sound mad, or upset. He sounds defeated, more than anything, and it hurts to hear. “What was I meant to do? I had no other option.”

“I don’t know,” Mobius admits. “But I still wish you’d told me. You shouldn’t have had to handle this alone.”

Loki smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It is my burden to bear, Mobius. My glorious purpose.” He pauses, then continues. “That’s what you told me.”

“What?”

“I went back to our first meeting.” Loki rests his elbows on his knees as he stares into the distance. “Back to when you questioned me, showed me my life. I asked you for help. How to choose who lives and who dies. And you told me about the boy. The one you couldn’t prune.”

Mobius’ heart plummets in his chest.

“You explained to me the chaos that resulted from your choice, all because you’d forgotten the big picture. The right choice to make was the hard one. The impossible one.” He looks at him again. “That most purposes are more burden than glory, and you just have to choose which burden to bear.”

Mobius stares at him as he takes in what he says. Loki had gone back to see him one last time. To ask him for advice. To Mobius before he knew him. To Mobius before he cared about him. To Mobius that hadn’t yet been changed by Loki. To before he’d had the chance to. To a Mobius that wasn’t hopelessly in love with him.

Mobius, now, starts to feel a little pissed off.

“You went back in time to a me that didn’t know you and asked him what he thought?”

Loki blinks in surprise. “Well, I–yes.”

“I had no idea what you were really asking me, Loki. How could I have given you the right answer?” Mobius stands up, puts his hands on his hips and starts to pace. Loki watches him from where he sits on the ground, the branches that trail from him waving slightly. “If you’d asked the actual me, the me that is standing in front of you, the me that knows you, I’d have told you something different.”

“You’d have told me what I wanted to hear, Mobius. Not what I needed to.”

“Not what you needed to? Which was what, Loki?” He spins around and throws his hands in the air. “That you needed to sacrifice yourself for everything else? Loki, what you did is incredible, and selfless, and the most heroic thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.” He doesn’t miss the way Loki’s expression shifts at his words, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “But it was also fucking stupid.”

He looks mostly offended, now. He parts his lips to say something, but Mobius can’t let him say a word before he finishes what he wants to say.

“You want to know what I’d have told you, Loki, if you’d asked me? I’d have told you what I did that day, and I’d have told you that I don’t regret it at all, anymore.” Mobius comes to a still in front of him, remembering the boy he hadn’t pruned. He remembers the chaos that came from it, of the timelines that branched because of it, of the variants that appeared as a result of it. And he thinks about how all of those people that came to be were real people, all of those lives that formed were real lives, and how all of those things that happened were real, all of them, even if they weren’t all good.

And then he remembers standing there, hands wrapped around his time stick, frozen to the spot as Ravonna plunged her own into the little boy. He remembers the look of fear on the boy’s face as he looked down to see his hands fading away and the cry of anguish that his brother wailed as he watched him vanish in front of him. He remembers the wave of nausea that overtook him and the way he threw up in the water as Ravonna opened up a Time Door and the way he couldn’t get the image of that little boy out of his mind for a long, long time.

Mobius feels his stomach twist at all the lives he’d helped take away, all the lives he’d ruined, for absolutely nothing.

He stares at Loki and clenches his teeth before he speaks.

“That little boy had done nothing wrong,” he says, “and he suffered the consequences. The consequences of living. And some people died because he lived, but that wasn’t his fault. It was never any of their fault.” He shuts his eyes, fingers clenching into fists. He can feel the memory of a time stick between his fingers. “You choose what burden to bear, Loki, but you don’t do it alone. You didn’t deserve to suffer because the timelines were going to die. That was not your fault.”

“But somebody had to fix it, Mobius, and I was the only one who could.” Loki stands up, arms waving as he argues his point. “Sacrifice everything, or sacrifice myself? The new life I’d discovered? Leave everything behind?” Loki shakes his head. “I didn’t want to make that choice, but I had to.”

“You didn’t.” Mobius taps his fingers against his waist. “You didn’t.”

“There was no other choice!”

“You could have told me!”

“We’ve already been over this. No, I couldn’t have.”

“You didn’t want to because you’d already made up your mind, Loki. I would have told you what I’m telling you now!”

“And then what, Mobius? Everything would have ceased to exist all because I couldn’t walk away from you?” Loki shouts at him, and Mobius doesn’t know what to say. “You would have told me to stay, and I wouldn’t have been able to say no to you. And then there’d be nothing. You’d have died, I’d have died, everyone would have died.”

The anger in his chest is mixing with sadness, and Mobius doesn’t want to shout anymore. He walks toward Loki, who watches him approach with a fragile look on his face. “Or you’d have told me,” he says, “and I would have helped you figure something else out–even if it took centuries–because I wouldn’t have let you do this to yourself. But you couldn’t burden me with that, huh?”

Loki shakes his head. He reaches up, hesitantly, to card a few fingers through Mobius’ hair. “I care too much about you. All of you,” he adds. “I had to do it alone.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mobius tells him. “You’re so smart, Loki, but you’re also an idiot with a heart so big that you forget about yourself.”

Mobius puts both of his hands on Loki’s face, cupping it gently. He looks soft, between his hands, the way his cheeks squish and his eyes crease at the corners. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that a burden doesn’t weigh so heavily on your shoulders when you don’t bear it alone? That you don’t deserve to carry it all by yourself?”

Loki’s face crumples. His forehead is covered by his crown, so Mobius leans forward to kiss the small bit of skin between his eyebrows instead. “That burden,” he tells him, “of trying to save everything including you, is one I would have easily taken on. You can’t just… decide for me, Loki, because you know I would choose you.” Mobius pulls away to look him in the eyes. “You’re worth choosing.”

Loki grabs one of Mobius’ hands and then leans his face into it. “I didn’t want to choose this. I didn’t want to leave you.” He looks into his eyes when he tells him, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Mobius leans forward so that their noses are brushing. “I wish you’d made a different choice, but you did still make an incredible one. You don’t have to apologize for that. You saved everything.” He shrugs. “You’re a hero.”

Loki squeezes his eyes shut, cringing back a little. “Don’t say that.”

“What? Why not?” Mobius smiles. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t sound right.”

“Well, giving up your own happiness for the sake of everyone who ever lived isn’t exactly a villainous thing to do.” Mobius tilts his head a little. “I could pretend, though, if it helps. Oh, Loki, the most wicked God of all. Sentenced himself away forever to save trillions of people. Truly the most wicked thing anyone could ever do.” Mobius shakes his head. “Even worse than the time he tried to take over New York.”

Loki opens his eyes just to glare at him, and Mobius can’t help but laugh. Then Loki’s face softens, and he smiles at him, and Mobius wants to see this look on him forever.

“You did tell me I could be whoever I wanted to be.”

“I did.”

“Guess you were right.”

“Well, I always am, aren’t I?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Loki tells him, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You do have the worst taste in food.”

“Like what?”

“That key lime pie, for one. I’m not sure how you eat it.”

Mobius’ mouth gapes and he shoves lightly at Loki’s shoulder, but he can’t help the laugh that spills out of him. “I knew you didn’t like it! You picked at it the whole time we had that talk!”

“I tried my best, really, but it tastes like ink, Mobius, it’s so… artificial. You’ve no idea what real food tastes like. Asgardian cuisine is the best you could ever have. It’s a shame you’ve never been, of course I’d love to take you but I am a bit stuck here at the moment–”

“Shut up, Loki,” Mobius tells him before he does it himself with a kiss. Loki hums, surprised, but kisses him back. He wraps his arms around Loki’s neck and clings to him for a little while. Now that he has permission to kiss Loki, he thinks he’ll probably spend most of his time for the rest of his life doing just that. It’s better than he’d ever imagined it could be.

When they pull apart, they don’t go very far. Mobius tells him quietly,

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Mobius, wh–”

“Don’t ask me how. I don’t know yet. Gotta work on that. We’ll figure it out. You’re not going to be stuck here forever. I’m not going to let you.” He leans back a little to look Loki in his eyes. “We’re going to find a way to keep the branches alive without them needing you. Then I’m going on vacation,” he says, “and I’m taking with you me.”

Loki looks at him a little hesitantly, like he’s unsure about all of this. But instead of disagreeing, or arguing, or trying to convince Mobius otherwise, he nods.

“Okay.”

Before they do anything, they stay there for a little while. Just Loki and Mobius at the End of Time, holding each other in their arms and remembering what it feels like to be so loved.

“The Tree of Time? That’s what you’re calling it?” One of Loki’s hands is tangled in between Mobius’. The other is wrapping around a stray branch, fingers softly wisping over it as the two of them walk together.

“Sounds cooler than the Temporal Tree,” Mobius tells him. “At least I think so. Why? Did you have something in mind?”

“I don’t actually.” He frowns. “Guess I hadn’t thought of it.”

“All this time you’ve spent out here alone and you didn’t think of what to name the place?”

“Well, it’s already got a name, hasn’t it?” Loki gestures, bringing Mobius’ hand up with his to do so. “The End of Time. The Citadel is gone so I suppose it’s just the Tree at the End of Time now.”

Mobius looks around. There really is nothing left of the Citadel. All that remains is all that Loki’s brought here. Black rock and gold streaks and green threads of life woven together in the space around them.

“That’s a cool title,” he says. “Think it’s cool enough?”

“Might do. For now.” Loki looks at him. “Just until I think of something better.”

“Mhm. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“How are you doing that?”

At some point, once they walked a little past Loki’s throne, the ground beneath them had begun to disappear. Except with every step that Loki takes–and consequently Mobius–it appears beneath them again. He hadn’t even noticed it at first, too preoccupied with staring at Loki’s face.

“Magic.” Loki winks at him. It’s a lot more charming than it probably should be, Mobius thinks when he feels a flutter in his chest. Butterflies in his stomach. He’s not sure he’s ever felt it before.

It feels nice.

“You’re not going to tell me any more than that?”

“Well, that would ruin it, wouldn’t it? That’s what you Midgardians always say.” Loki winces, then, like he’s said something that he shouldn’t.

Mobius lets out a sigh.

“It’s alright, Loki. I know.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“No, I know that you know.”

“I’m–confused.”

Loki stops mid-step to turn and look at him. “You went to visit your life on the Timeline. I know,” he squeezes his hand, “because I heard you.”

“You heard me?”

“You were there. Like a radar pinging on one of the branches. I just knew. I heard you,” he repeats. “I watched you. Until you left.” He frowns. “And then I couldn’t see you anymore.”

“I went back to the TVA,” Mobius says, realizing. “Which exists outside of time.”

“I went back to that moment a few times,” Loki admits, looking down at the ground. “When I felt particularly lonely. Particularly sad. Or just when I missed you.”

Mobius leans forward a bit, trying not to let it show on his face just how emotional that makes him. “And just so we’re clear,” he teases him instead, “that was always, right?”

Loki rolls his eyes. Mobius can tell he’s struggling to hide his smile. “Actually, I didn’t miss you at all. Give me that TemPad of yours.” He pats at Mobius’ coat. “I’m kicking you out of here.”

“Oh, no,” Mobius backs away from his touch. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Are you kidding me? When I couldn’t get rid of you?”

“Oh, as if you didn’t love me following you around all the time,” Loki squints at him. Mobius crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you send me away?”

“You were always useful! To the mission.” It’s a weak argument, and they both know it.

“Yes, of course, all those times I ruined your plans or got in your way. Or,” Loki smiles and steps closer to him, pushing himself fully into Mobius’ space, “is it just that you liked me?”

Mobius looks up at him. It annoys him to no end that Loki is only just taller than him. His hair is falling in his face where it isn’t held back by his crown and his lips are curled into that cunning, mischievous smile. It makes his heart stammer in his chest. With Loki looking at him like this, Mobius has to admit to himself that he is not immune to Loki’s charms. And yet, he won’t budge.

“Not even a little bit.” Mobius holds his gaze.

Loki narrows his eyes at him.

They stare at each other.

And then, well. He isn’t sure which one of them leans in first.

There’s a pair of lips against his own, a hand running through his hair and another settled between his collarbones. Mobius is cupping Loki’s face between his hands, sliding one of them down to the nape of his neck.

He kisses him hungrily, trying his hardest to make up for lost time. Their noses bump and Mobius thinks their teeth clash at one point and none of it matters at all when he’s got Loki to himself like this. Really, truly, if he didn’t care about Loki not being trapped here anymore, he would have no problem spending the rest of his life with him just like this.

Loki pulls away for a breath and Mobius chases after him, capturing his lips between his own again. He’s maybe too eager, but Loki is too, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. Except for when he pushes against him a little too hard and Loki loses his footing and the two of them fall to the ground.

Mobius keeps his hands hooked around Loki, mildly afraid that if the two of them aren’t touching he’s going to fall into the endless void of space.

He peeks his eyes open to see Loki looking up at him, hair spilled out everywhere while he catches his breath. His arms have wrapped around Mobius’ back, and one of them is trailing up and down it softly.

“Sorry about that,” Mobius bites his lip, trying not to smile, and Loki only laughs. He leans up to kiss him again, softly.

“Aren’t we supposed to be figuring out how to get me out of here?” He asks him when he pulls away, and Mobius smiles.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot.”

Mobius moves to take Loki’s hand in his and then stands up. Once he’s on his feet again, he helps pull Loki up beside him. He intertwines their fingers and then puts his other hand on his hip, looking around at the green branches drifting in the air around them.

He looks down.

He looks up again.

This is the center of the tree. He’d seen as much on the diagram that Miss Minutes had shown them. If this is the center, then that means the pink-and-blue branches in the sky must be the top. The leaves, he supposes. And that means below them, there must be roots.

When he turns to Loki, opening his mouth to speak, he stops himself when he sees Loki already staring at him. There’s a small smile on his lips. His eyes are crinkled a little. When their eyes meet, his smile only grows bigger.

“You have an idea?” Loki asks.

“The start of one, I think,” he tells him. “When you saved the timelines, you put them into a tree. That way, they can keep growing infinitely. Right?”

“Right.”

“Well, what do trees need, Loki?”

Loki furrows his eyebrows. “What every plant needs? Sunlight, water, carbon dioxide?”

“Sure, they need all those things,” Mobius nods. “But they’re self-sufficient.” He looks around at the branches again, then reaches out to touch one. It glows white beneath his fingertips, and Loki’s fingers tighten between his own. “A tree in a forest doesn’t need someone in the center of it keeping it alive. All it needs is its energy source. Your magic.” He taps the branch again and watches the burst of white light slowly fade out.

“Yes,” Loki says slowly, “but I’m the only one who can give it that.”

“I know, but–” Mobius pauses for a second, clearing his throat. The idea is slowly coming together in his head. He’s trying to piece it all together. “Okay. If a seed turns into a tree, then it’s not a seed anymore. Right?”

“Right.”

“So if you made the tree…”

“I’m not me anymore?”

“No.” Mobius rubs at his temples. This isn’t coming out right. “What if the tree doesn’t need you? Not… all the time?”

“Only sometimes?”

“Yes,” he says, spinning to look at him again. “A tree doesn’t need to be rained on every day! It doesn’t need sunny skies every day.”

Loki looks at the branch Mobius has been fiddling with. He reaches for it. His hand rests softly on the branch next to Mobius’, and where their fingers touch the branch glows green while a white light shoots out at the same time.

They look at each other.

“Why are the branches reacting to me?”

Loki glances at him. He stays quiet for a moment, then shrugs. Mobius tilts his head at it. “I don’t know,” Loki tells him. “I saved them, but I don’t control them.”

Mobius hmms. He’s not sure Loki’s telling the whole truth there, but he’ll let it slide for now. “Well, pretty cool regardless.”

Loki smiles at him but doesn’t say anything. His gaze is back on the branch, fingers tapping against it slowly. Mobius can tell he’s thinking.

“The Tree of Time is infinitely growing, but all trees do that. Trees take care of themselves, but sometimes…” He snaps his gaze back to Mobius. “Have you ever cultivated a garden, Mobius?”

“No,” he deadpans. “I didn’t have much time for gardening at the TVA, what with all the variants I was handling and whatnot.” He blinks as the statement triggers a memory. “You still owe me a salad, by the way.”

Loki smiles, squeezes his hand, and carries on. “When you have a garden, you water it. Feed it sometimes. But you let it do everything else. You can’t grow the plant. Only the plant can grow itself. What if the Tree doesn’t need me to sustain it,” he says, “but to nourish it?”

“Huh.” Mobius looks at the branch of a timeline underneath his fingertips. “With your magic?”

“Yes,” he nods, now, and Mobius can see it clicking into place. “I don’t need to be here all the time. I just need to be here sometimes, to feed it. To nourish it. To replenish it with my magic,” he tells him, then wraps his fingers around the branch they’re holding tighter. A bright wave of green light shoots down from beneath his touch and races outward, down each side until Mobius can’t see it anymore. “Although… If I’m not here, who will protect it?” Loki frowns, then, and looks at him again.

“The TVA,” he tells him, like it’s obvious. Because it is.

“The TVA? Who have historically done a very bad job of taking care of the timelines?”

“B-15’s taken on more of a leadership role,” Mobius shrugs, “and there is no longer a crazed lunatic who is controlling time and thus the TVA. It makes sense to me.”

“Even if they did,” Loki relents, “how would they?”

“We’ve already been watching over the Tree. We never lost sight of the timelines, we just didn’t know where they were until now.” Mobius tells him. “If we can protect individual branches, we can protect the whole Tree. All you’d need to do is pop in from time to time. As needed. Every time the Tree needs a little sunshine or rain. Or if something drastic happens, like if there’s a forest fire.”

Loki huffs at the comment, but a smile is slowly curling his lips upward. This makeshift plan they’ve concocted sounds good to Mobius, and he can tell Loki’s not against it, either.

“They’d have to make a whole new department,” Loki tells him. “Dedicated entirely to protecting the Tree. It’s the safest way.”

“Of course. We’re not gonna let just anyone go near it,” he scoffs. “Are you seeing this thing? It’s beautiful. Can’t let anyone trash it. Or worse, graffiti it. Can you imagine that? If someone graffitied the Tree of Time?”

“Mobius,” Loki says, expression serious, and Mobius straightens his smile into something more sincere. He brings their conjoined hands up to his lips and kisses the top of Loki’s hand.

“I’m going to make sure we get the best team together. The TVA is dedicated to protecting the branches,” he tells him. “Nothing will go wrong. B-15 will make sure of it, and you’ll always be able to come back here. To help it when it needs you. But you can’t take care of it if an eternity of solitude drives you crazy, right?”

“I suppose not. Probably not the best environment for a growing Tree.”

“Then what do you say we try it? Listen, if for whatever reason it doesn’t work, we’ll come back here. Together, and we’ll figure something else out. I’m not going to let you be alone anymore. Regardless of the circumstances.”

Loki takes a deep breath. “It would be nice, not being alone.” He lets his voice drop to a whisper, then reaches a hand up to run through Mobius’ hair. “It looks nice like this, did I tell you that?”

“No, I don’t think you did.” Mobius does not feel himself blush. That would be crazy.

“Well, I’m telling you now.” Loki smiles. “You mentioned a vacation earlier, right?”

“I did.”

“Where would we go?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” Mobius whispers. “Just that I wanted you by my side wherever I went.”

Loki brings his hand down to cup the side of his cheek. His thumb trails softly up and down his skin, and then he leans in to kiss Mobius softly. When they part, he whispers,

“I’m thinking–for the first stop–somewhere with jet skis.”

Walking away from Loki to go back to the TVA is one of the hardest things Mobius has ever had to do, even if he knows it’s only for a little while.

Loki watches him go with a somber but hopeful look on his face, and Mobius’ heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of it.

But through the Time Door he steps, and when he makes it back all of his friends are scattered around, waiting. Their eyes all snap to him immediately, and then to the space next to him, as though they’re looking for someone there.

Loki.

Before he can let any of them start to look sad when they notice he’s missing, he raises his hands to his sides and explains.

“B-15, we need a new department.” Mobius clears his throat. “Our garden needs tending to.”

That one-liner does not adequately explain anything to any of them at all, so Mobius explains, in-depth, what the plan is.

And then they get to work.

Mobius works alongside B-15 to organize a new department. Mobius wants to call them Guardians, but B-15 thinks just Protectors works fine. Eventually they settle on waiting for Loki’s opinion. It is his tree, after all.

It’s a little complicated, he comes to find out, building an entirely new section of the TVA from the ground up. Rooms get repaired and restored all around the TVA. Casey gets started on interviewing different workers from different departments to figure out who is best suited for the job, then hands stacks upon stacks of files of different potential employees to Mobius. Mobius has absolutely no desire to go through them all, but he does anyway. Begrudgingly.

O.B. works on creating an interactive, touch-screen map of the Tree of Time with the help of Casey and Miss Minutes. If a certain branch starts to show signs of decay, a Guardian can zoom in and identify it. Once it’s identified, the map will project a hologram of the branch, pinpointing whatever it is on the timeline causing the damage. From there, Analysts and Guardians will work together to figure out if a Timely variant is responsible. If that is the case, Hunters will be sent out to locate them. Once the variant is removed from the equation, the branch should–hypothetically–begin to repair itself. If it doesn’t, Loki will be notified. He’ll return to the Tree to repair the damaged branch with his magic, and all will be well.

At least, this is the plan so far. It might need a little work, still, but it’s coming together nicely enough. Mobius spends most of his time hovering around the Time Garden, which is what they’ve named the room with the new display of the Tree. He tests out O.B.’s map, poking and prodding and asking questions and trying to make sure it’s as pristine as it possibly can be.

There aren’t very many mistakes that Mobius can find, but he wants to make sure everything is in working order. It would be miserable if Loki finally made it back only for something to go catastrophically wrong the second the Tree was out of his sight.

Sylvie, after sticking around for only a little while–mostly to give pointers about what they could be doing better around here and to chat with B-15–leaves the TVA behind. “I’m happy you’ve found him,” she tells him when she does, “and that he’s found his home here, but I need to go back to mine. Tell him I told him he’s lucky to have you. Your dagger’s real.”

Mobius has no idea what she means by that, but he thanks her for help and tells her to enjoy her life on her timeline. He also tells her he hopes he’ll see her soon, and doesn’t miss the way she rolls her eyes. He also doesn’t miss the way she smiles.

In reality, it doesn’t take very long for everything to come together. Probably because the TVA has never been micromanaged quite so closely by a man whose patience is running thin. Normally he’s got quite a lot of it, but Loki turns out to be an exception to the rule. It certainly feels like a thousand years have passed by the time B-15 tells him the department is ready to start running, but it hasn’t been very long at all.

“You’re sure this is going to work?” She’s standing by his side while he opens a Time Door. They’re in the Garden, Casey and O.B. watching him from near the display.

“I’m positive,” Mobius assures her. He isn’t, actually, entirely positive, but he’s mostly positive, so what does it matter, really?

“We’re sure that Loki’s really coming back?” Casey asks, and Mobius smiles at him.

“Really. And he’ll stick around for a bit,” he tells him, “but then the two of us are gonna step away for a little while.”

“The two of you, huh?” B-15 gives him a look, and Mobius winks at her.

“The two of us.”

She shakes her head with a little smile, then reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “Don’t break any of the timelines when you bring him back, okay? Seriously. I want this to work, but–”

“It’ll work, B. I promise.” Mobius takes a breath, then steps forward to walk through the door. “Alright, everyone. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He walks through.

This time around, he’s put the Time Door at the top of the hill. It would have killed him, probably, if he’d had to climb all those stairs again.

The soft orange glow of the Time Door fades as it blips out behind him, and the green glow of Loki’s branches takes its place.

When he sees Loki on his throne, his heart races just the same as it did the first time.

Mobius is making his way toward him before Loki can so much as blink. The branches between Loki’s hands part to make way for him, and Mobius cups his face between his hands to kiss him.

It’s sweet, and soft, and lasts only a few moments before they pull apart. He can’t help but smile down at him. “Miss me?” He asks.

“Maybe a little,” Loki smiles and kisses him one more time. “Is everything all set?” He asks. He looks a bit nervous.

“All set and ready to go. The only missing part is you,” he tells him. “Time to say bye to nature.” Mobius reaches out to a branch, poking it gently. “I imagine you’ll be making a grand entrance? Er–exit, rather? Whatever.”

“Something like that,” Loki tells him and reaches out a hand. Mobius takes it, pulling Loki up from his throne. “Step back for me?”

Mobius takes a step back, fingers slipping from Loki’s hand as he pulls them up in front of him. The branches that string from his cloak start floating up and toward his front. He grabs them carefully, and then, once they’re bundled tightly between his fingers, he lowers himself to touch them to the throne.

There’s a moment where nothing happens, and Mobius simply appreciates the profile of Loki’s face. He wonders if Loki plans on retiring his new crown when they go back to the TVA. He hopes not. At least not all the time. The horns look so beautiful on him.

Then, he watches Loki’s eyes glow green with his magic. His hands light up with it too, and an aura of it begins to emanate from him. The branches he holds start to wrap themselves around the throne like ivy around the bark of a tree. They weave together tightly until the throne is nearly completely covered by them. Slowly, carefully, Loki starts to loosen his grip around the branches.

Once he’s let go of them completely, they shine brighter, twisting themselves together and reaching up toward the sky. They extend more and more, higher and farther until they start intertwining with the other branches around them. The shine of them only grows as they weave together, brighter and brighter until it almost hurts to look at. Then, Loki reaches for his hand. Mobius takes it.

The two of them watch together as the different branches of timelines weave together to form a pulsing heart.

It hangs there, in the air, branches slowly undulating in tune with each other. Different threads reach out to the ones that make the trunk of the tree, anchoring the heart in place.

Mobius can’t take his eyes off of it.

Loki reaches forward, bringing their intertwined hands to the heart that is pumping Loki’s magic throughout the Tree of Life.

Their fingers rest against the heart gently, and it ripples beneath their touch, glowing. White light spreads out from beneath them, and it slowly fades out into green the further it travels from their touch. Like an ocean saying hello and goodbye to the shore, the light reverberates around the heart. Mobius is completely mesmerized. Beautiful isn’t good enough of a word to describe the sight before him.

He can’t take his eyes off of the heart. And then, after a little while–when he pays close enough attention–he realizes it is beating in tune with his own. He looks toward Loki in amazement, only to find him looking at him already. The green in his irises is still there, glowing beautifully when his eyes crinkle from his little smile. 

“It responds to you because it knows me,” Loki tells him, “and I have come to love you like I have loved no one else.”

Mobius doesn’t think anyone has ever said anything to him before that has so quickly made his eyes well up in tears. His heart is pounding so erratically that he thinks that it really might jump through his skin this time. If he’d felt butterflies earlier, this is something different. Something entirely new. Can it only be love that sings this song throughout his chest? Is it something more? The feeling is so strong that it glides over his entire body, head to toe. He feels the warm rush of it. Maybe it’s woven into his DNA, now, this love that he feels for Loki, because he doesn’t remember what it was like not to. Maybe he always has.

A love that he will never walk away from, a love that will never fade, a love that will only grow inside him for the rest of his days. This love has changed his life already. He can feel the promise that it will change his future. Can Mobius love him like this? For all of eternity?

There can be no answer other than yes.

Mobius kisses Loki. He can see the glow of the heart from beneath his eyelids. He can feel the way it beats beneath his fingertips. He can feel the love that bleeds from Loki’s lips. He can only hope Loki can taste it on his own.

Mobius’ hand comes up to rest on Loki’s cheek, cradling his face when he pulls away from the kiss. Loki’s eyes are still closed, a blissful expression on his face. When he opens them, the magic is slowly fading from his eyes. Their eyes meet, and he smiles, and Mobius wonders if Loki can see it all on his face. The way Loki has changed him. Can he see the love there?

He probably can, he thinks. Mobius can be good at lying, at times. But not to Loki. Never to Loki.

Always the exception to a rule.

“I love you,” Mobius tells him. “I’ll love you forever.”

Mobius doesn’t miss the way Loki’s eyes get a little teary. He turns his hand over to intertwine their fingers.

“Forever’s a long time,” Loki says. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve already made up my mind. Hell, I guess you could say I’ll love you for all time.”

“...You want me to say it, don’t you?”

“Would be nice.”

“Must I?”

“I think you should.”

Loki rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss Mobius, but stops just short of his lips. He whispers, smiling, against them,

“Always.”

There’s a chin tucked into the junction between his shoulder and his neck, and a pair of arms wrapped painfully tight around his waist. There’s wind whipping at his hair, water spraying in his eyes, and laughter spilling out from his lips.

The sky is blue and the sun is shining in his face. There are a couple of clouds in the sky. A seagull lets out a caw as it flies above them.

“What part about this could possibly be so appealing to you!?”

Mobius almost doesn’t hear Loki’s question over the sound of the jet ski soaring through the water. “Just give in to it, Loki! Let the waves carry you!”

“A beautiful union of form and function my ass,” he grumbles but begins to slowly peel himself off of Mobius. Although he keeps his arms wound tight around him, Mobius can feel him lean back a little.

“Have a little fun, Loki!” Mobius exclaims, and he makes a sudden turn in the water. Loki grips his waist tighter. “Aren’t you the God of Mischief?”

“Stories, too, now, don’t you forget.” Mobius makes a sharp, sudden turn, and Loki grips him tighter. “Mobius, you’re a maniac,” he says to him, but his voice seems a little lighter, a little less panicked. Mobius smiles at the sound of it.

“You can’t tell me you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

“Hmmph.”

Mobius pulls the throttle and they speed faster through the water. He hears a little sound of laughter behind him and his heart soars.

“You love it, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Sure thing, Loki. You wouldn’t mind, then, if you went for a dive in the water? If you hate being on a jet ski so much?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Mobius releases the throttle, and they slow to a stop in the water. He turns around a little to look at Loki, who is glaring at him. His hair is a disaster, swept back with the wind and dripping with saltwater. A few strands fall in his face as he leans in toward Mobius, hand coming up to cup his cheek.

Mobius shuts his eyes when Loki’s lips touch his softly. It’s only a moment later, when Loki smiles against his lips before he sucks in a breath of air and pulls away, does he realize his mistake.

“Loki, don’t–!”

Loki’s pushing Mobius into the water before he can stop him, but he’s managed to snag his arms around his shoulders last second. The two of them go toppling in together, an undignified tangle of limbs as the water splashes around them.

The water is cold around him, a minor shock to the system. Mobius quickly rises to the surface and watches Loki pop up a second later, shaking the water out of his hair. Mobius swims toward him, then wraps his arms around his neck. He narrows his eyes at the giddy look on Loki’s face, pretending that it doesn’t make his heart leap.

“You really are a scamp,” he tells him, and Loki’s smile only gets bigger.

“And you love it.”

Mobius leans in, then pauses in front of Loki’s lips just as he’d done to him a moment ago.

“I do.”

He kisses him, then, and revels in the feeling of it.

It feels like forever.