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Mobius doesn’t like to dwell on pessimism, but it’s getting difficult to avoid the fact that things are looking dire.
There is little he's been able to do to help stall the impending destruction of the loom except stay out of the way and manage his own anxiety, which was much easier when the fate of every life in the multiverse rested in the hands of temporal physicist geniuses like O.B., Timely, and—apparently—Loki. But now? Now one of them has given up and Mobius worries that the wave is going to pull the rest of them under as a result.
Everything was going fine until Casey arrived. Setting aside the fact that in the last six hours Loki somehow acquired enough temporophysical expertise to be teaching things to Ouroborus and Timely, the three of them have been a well-oiled machine of ideas and tinkering and progress. And then Casey came rushing in with an announcement from the loom room and…and it was like all the wind got knocked out of Loki’s sails. Almost literally. He looked up fearfully—as if Casey was Death himself—before abruptly deflating under a long exhale that took with it all of the drive and momentum that had been carrying them all onward. And now their productive energy is completely off the rails.
Mobius gives Casey the stink eye. He doesn’t understand why, but this is clearly all his fault.
“Oh, I see” Loki says somewhat listlessly to O.B. when Mobius returns his attention to the meeting of the minds before him. O.B. looks nonplussed at the lackluster response his probably-brilliant revelation is receiving but picks up the thread again after a quick pause.
Their conversation continues to wash over Mobius but he gave up trying to understand the details ages ago, so he lends his attention to the language he is the subject matter expert on. Loki is slouched back in his chair, watching the other two geniuses continue to debate and gesture. He’s listening but he’s no longer…invested. And it’s not an act either. Loki’s tells for when he’s putting on a performance have been absent all afternoon.
But why the apathy?
He’s debating interrupting to start pinning some direct questions on the evasive god when Loki interrupts the meeting himself by abruptly standing up.
“It’s an excellent next step,” he says to his astonished teammates and pastes on an obvious smile that makes Mobius cringe. It’s like he isn’t even trying. “I’ll catch up with you all momentarily.”
Loki sweeps out of the room, ignoring everyone's bewildered expressions.
Timely and O.B. only wait a moment before their urgency returns and they rush back into tweaking Timely’s device but there’s nothing left for Mobius to learn here so he slips out the door only a few seconds later.
Mobius follows Loki at a distance, giving him some space without losing sight of him until he turns the corner into the break space with the coffee machine. By the time Mobius arrives, Loki is tucked into the alcove at the back, mostly out of sight. He takes in Loki’s posture as he continues his leisurely pace over to him: leaning against the wall like it’s holding him up, head bowing so that his back and shoulders round so much he’s nearly curling in on himself, brow pinched under the curtain of his hair.
Loki hears him coming and looks up to watch him patiently and Mobius stops just before he’s directly across from him. He leans against the wall with one shoulder and waits a second, but Loki just keeps watching him, roving his tired gaze over and over across his face. When the scrutiny finally feels like too much, Mobius interrupts the moment.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“I…we’ve…” Loki gestures weakly in the direction of the loom. “We’ve just run out of time.”
“Well, are you sure?” Mobius points a thumb over his shoulder. “‘Cause it sounded like you guys were really onto something back there.”
“We were, but just not fast enough…and now we won’t make it.”
Mobius is trying to read between lines that are clearly there, but he’s so obviously missing crucial information—and not just whatever physics class Loki crammed that morning.
“We’re not at failure yet. I guess I don’t understand. You can see where I’m coming from, how you suddenly giving up seems pretty out of nowhere…” he trails off.
Loki’s wan smile is apologetic. He pauses for a second before he says, “I finally figured out the time slipping.”
It’s spoken like a confession but Mobius still feels like he’s missing huge gaps in the big picture. “Figured out the…what do you mean you figured it out? I thought we fixed that days ago.”
“It came back again. The first time the loom failed.”
“The first time…Loki, the loom hasn’t failed yet, and if the multiplier expanding doodad works then—“
“When I say I figured it out, it means I can now go back to wherever—whenever—I was, at any point in time, and affect those events.”
“Wait, really?” Mobius blinks at him. “And you didn’t say anything?” Gods, he thinks ruefully. But this is great news. “If that’s the case, then we can—” He draws up short.
He feels as though he’s been physically stunned. Like all his thoughts just tumbled down a hill and have to put themselves back together again at the bottom. “Oh, shit.”
All of the odd behavior, the random information that he suddenly has, are because he’s looped himself in time to do this again.
“Trust me. The loom is going to fail.”
He has been given the cipher and Mobius can once again translate the man in front of him. The anxiety, the failure, and now the loss. Always a walking cry for help, he thinks but knows the only emotion attached to that thought these days is fondness. They can figure this out.
“Ok, well if we hurry—”
“Mobius, it’s too late. This branch is lost.”
This branch is lost. The finality with which Loki says it is chilling. Mobius is practiced at ignoring alarm to get a job done, but he still feels it.
This branch is lost.
Loki seems to realize what he’s said because he quickly recovers in concern and genuine apology. “I’m sorry, I…should have said that…differently.”
This branch is lost. They were doomed then. Did that make him a variant? The TVA is supposed to be outside of time, but Loki manipulating time within it would imply they’re on their own branch. And if this branch is doomed, then another one succeeds, and that certainly makes him feel more variant-like than not.
This branch is lost…But Loki is still here. Or at least, time-slipping Loki is. Something is making him stay, despite no hope for them, rather than moving back to try once more. He looks for a clue. Loki is still looking at him in concern for the bomb he just dropped—
—This branch is lost—
—but mostly he just seems to be waiting. But for what? No, maybe not waiting…resting? The slant of his shoulders speaks of resignation and a bone-deep exhaustion, almost like—
“Loki, how many times have you done this?”
A fractional shrug that shouts volumes of despondency is the only response he gets. This isn’t his second try. This isn’t even his dozenth try. Over and over. His sudden mastery of physics becomes alarming in a way that Mobius is having a hard time wrapping his mind around.
This branch is lost. So Loki knows what’s going to happen and they’ve passed the point of preventing it. And he’s been living it again and again. Something in Mobius twists painfully.
This branch is lost. But it’s only a whisper now. Understanding finally settles around Mobius and it’s surprisingly peaceful.
Loki had done everything he knew how to after trying and trying and he knew enough to not try anymore this time. And so he was still here because he needed…something.
“Ok, talk me through it. What haven’t you tried yet?”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
Loki immediately becomes agitated, bursting into motion. He recoils from the wall like it burned him and his hands wave about to emphasize his points.
“I’ve tried everything!” His expression is distraught, slightly manic, and, as he starts listing all the ways in which he has rewritten history, there’s a piece of it that starts to plead at Mobius.
“Alright, alright,” Mobius reaches out, at first to backtrack and to dampen the distress vibrating out at him, but then he lands on Loki’s arms and squeezes them and reassurance becomes his only goal. “Hey, you’re gonna figure this out.” Loki takes a shaky breath, not meeting his eyes but not fighting the gesture, and lets a portion of the restless despair shudder out of him.
“I mean it. You’ve clearly done a lot already, and you have all the time in the multiverse to get the right answer.” And then, because he maybe needs to hear it himself as well, “All it takes is one right answer.”
Loki finally nods but it’s still not enough. He looks so drained and Mobius tries to remember if he’s ever seen him so empty before. Defeated, yes. Resigned, certainly. But this emptiness speaks to him pulling at the dregs of reserves and he wonders just how long that is for a god. Had he been doing this for…years? And they all had no idea. He’d been doing this alone for years.
This branch is lost. Mobius considers a new realization.
“What will happen to us now?” He asks quietly.
“You all turn to spaghetti and I go back and try again,” is the dull response.
Mobius takes a second to process this. He was, it would seem, destined to lose his skin after all.
“Will I remember this?”
Loki shakes his head and barely whispers, “No.”
“But you will.”
He closes his eyes as he nods this time.
Mobius reaches out and straightens Loki’s coat by the lapels while he works up his nerve.
When he finally looks up, Loki is looking at him with confused expectation. His eyes are startling green this close.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to kiss you now,” Mobius says.
Loki looks stunned, but something stirs at the edges of his expression. A pull at his mouth, a relaxation of the tension around his eyes that hint of warmth and a rare vulnerability.
“I’d like that very much,” he replies hesitantly, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.
But Mobius can’t really believe it either, and so he plows ahead, using his grip on Loki’s coat to close the gap between them.
Their mouths connect and the first thing that registers is how nice it is. Mobius doesn’t have any memories of kissing but he’s angled his head just right so that their mouths seem to fit perfectly together, and something warm and excited curls like smoke in his gut.
And then they separate—just for a fraction, to take a breath—but something about the motion ignites the smoldering kindling instead, and rather than pulling back, they’re breathing hungrily into each other, mouths open, and pressing into the blaze.
Loki’s hands are on Mobius’ jawline, tipping his head back and leaving a line of fire under his thumb. His own hands are still clenched in Loki’s coat and the sensation of his heart pounding through the thick cloth has Mobius searching for it underneath. His hand slides under the outer fabric, finds Loki’s waist—firm, radiating heat, and so real under his touch—and it’s not enough. He pulls Loki closer, his other hand searching under the coat to match the motion, and Loki is pliant under the gesture. Beyond pliant—uses the momentum to push Mobius up against the other wall of the alcove, which sends a jolt to his groin that makes him gasp.
It’s like they’re the only things that actually exist. His fingers are practically digging into Loki’s hips. He can feel the temperature coming off of him through the thin shirt and realizes he’s pulling at the cloth, trying to get underneath. He almost has it when Loki breaks off from his mouth and presses burning lips down his neck—and then he’s forgotten all about the shirt because he can’t think about anything except the explosion of sensation cascading through him in their wake that has him grateful for the support of the wall behind him.
And it’s just them for this moment, ensconced in each other. Their own universe unto themselves. Did time stop?
But no, because voices sound in the periphery—galaxies away—that really must only be down the hall. Loki whispers an irritated curse and a rumble of a laugh murmurs in Mobius’ throat under Loki’s mouth, heavy with secrets.
But the voices sound urgent and the disruption has been enough to bring them back to the present. Loki doesn’t step away though. They stay there, catching their breaths, and Mobius feels safe and whole, wrapped up as he is by Loki’s protective enclosure. Loki traces his cheekbone with his thumb, ignoring the distant footsteps heading their direction to just look at him, and this time Mobius doesn’t shy away from the scrutiny.
The footsteps are getting ever closer and the bitter pull of time is impatient. Mobius gives himself a mental nudge. “I should probably go,” he says quietly.
Loki’s hand flinches and he still doesn’t release him. “Stay,” he pleads, a raw emotion chasing the edges of his expression.
And let this moment turn to oblivion in front of you? No.
“You’re going to figure this out,” Mobius says instead, and Loki closes his eyes like he’s steeling himself against the task at hand. But when he reopens them his gaze is steadier, and when he leans in to kiss Mobius again deeply, once, twice, the motion doesn’t convey desperation so much as a longing that makes Mobius want to change his mind and grab hold of this revelation for as long as they’ve got.
“I want more time here,” Loki whispers, but time is only willing to wait for Loki, not for him.
Mobius chuckles. “Eeeh, just go back a little further next time,” and Loki smiles slightly while he steps back and straightens Mobius’ tie for him. “What, like it was hard to twist my arm about this,” he mutters through a spreading blush.
“It’s true, you’ve shown me your cards now,” Loki’s grin is spreading in familiar mischief but he looks like he’s been given a gift rather than handed power, and behind all of it there’s genuine relief from the previous despair.
Mobius tries to hide what that expression is doing to him as he exits the alcove. At the last second, he turns to point a finger back at Loki. “But don’t go too far back,” he raises an eyebrow, “ ’cause I used to think you were really shady, you know.”
His last glimpse of Loki is him grinning widely in a laugh, head leaned back against the wall, and then the hallway footsteps are upon him, Hunter B-15 is there asking where the hell they’ve been, and hustling him away. One final look back and Loki isn’t there at all anymore.
They make it back to the loom and everyone is there—Loki included, standing with Timely at the top of the steps. But a quick glance is enough to understand that this isn’t the same Loki that he just saw in the hallway.
Mobius keeps out of the way, standing calmly at the back of the room while chaos swarms around him. He wonders what he would have been doing to help them succeed in the original timeline.
This is an apocalypse, he realizes. He is immediately treated to the memory of Loki at Pompeii, proving that they couldn’t disrupt the sacred timeline there by throwing his arms out and shouting “Nothing matters!”
Nothing matters in apocalypses.
But then…he also remembers the crush of Loki’s mouth against his not five minutes ago, and it occurs to him that maybe that isn’t true.
Will I remember this? No. But you will.
Mobius smiles a little. This branch may be lost, but it had still mattered.
There is a commotion and Mobius looks up at what’s happening.
“The temporal radiation is just too high,” O.B. is saying. Did Timely die? Mobius feels a shock of alarm radiate through him. That’s…grim.
This branch is lost.
Loki is trying to help them get here to this moment faster so that Timely can make it, he realizes.
The team has stopped hurrying and is staring out the window at the loom in horror. There must not be anything left to do.
This branch is lost.
Mobius feels an adrenaline pulse of fear, so he looks at Loki, staring out the window with the others, and breathes in what he remembers of his scent, and thinks about what his mouth tasted like, and how it had been to feel known and wanted.
The loom explodes.
Mobius closes his eyes.