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Mobius couldn’t tear himself away from watching Don tidy up the front lawn after his kids had run havoc through the place. It was a life he hadn’t known, and even though he knew he could ask Sylvie to show him the memories if he wanted to, it wouldn’t change the fact he had a gaping hole in his heart.
Looking back at his previous life was painful in a numbing kind of way. It was like his emotions were stuck somewhere within his body, unable to go anywhere. Tendrils of ancient grief floated along the surface but when he tried to grab hold, they slipped through his fingers and sank into the depths once more.
He was weighed down by it, and yet it paled into insignificance at how much his heart ached from losing Loki. In all his time at the TVA—however long it actually was—he had never been close to anyone. Then Loki had arrived and he’d begun to feel again, to experience something within him: a hope, possibilities for the future.
Now all he had was the tattered remains of his heart.
“I wish I was with you,” he sighed, looking down at the ground and scraping his shoe up and down the sidewalk. The sun had been shining since he’d arrived here, reminding him of how another Loki had told his brother they would find their happy ending eventually. If only his Loki had been able to have one.
Instead, he was trapped at the end of time sacrificing himself to outwit yet another egomaniac intent on removing choice from others. It should be embarrassing how often these things seemed to happen in the multiverse. They were an almost constant, just as Lokis were destined to lose.
He knew Loki hadn’t wanted to be alone, and neither had Mobius. The only difference between them was that he could be surrounded by people if he wanted to; Loki was cut off from everyone.
Mobius had never met He Who Remains, only a variant—and from what Loki had said, Timely was nothing like him—but he knew he had controlled everything and decided their fates, no matter how cruel or sweet. He’d been a dictator, an enslaver, and a tyrant.
But he’d also lived a solitary life at the end of time with only Miss Minutes for company, and that would be enough to send anyone insane. Mobius knew loneliness, but he couldn’t imagine not being able to numb and escape it. When he’d had nothing but endless reports to wade through, never-ending detail to get lost in, it had been easier to cope with the scars he wore.
The TVA hadn’t been a good place. He hadn’t been a good man while he was in it. He’d done terrible things as a hunter until his conscience refused to let him do it any longer, and then he had done ghastly things as an analyst by helping find variants when they went rogue. He’d once told Loki he was born to cause pain and suffering and death, but the truth was Mobius’ own role in the world had been to do the exact same thing to billions.
He reached up and slipped a finger inside the sleeve of his shirt, rolling it across the silvery marks on his skin. In his worst moments, it had been a way to cope with the soul crushing pain of having taken people’s lives from them, until he’d sunk so low he almost felt nothing anymore.
Above him, the sun was setting and he knew it was time to move on. He’d stood here for hours and now the curtains in Don’s house were being drawn and it was time to go. If only his feet could move from this spot.
It took another flash of a timedoor and that same hand patting him on his shoulder to finally tear his gaze away.
“Come on,” Sylvie said softly. “I think that’s enough. It’s time you had a drink.”
Mobius hadn’t asked where they were going. He nodded his head and followed her through the portal, finding himself in a small kitchen with yellow painted walls and teal cupboards. There was a tall fridge in the corner and two white chairs and a round metal table stacked with plates.
“It’s nice,” he said, and Sylvie snorted.
“Please. It’s the best I could get without enchanting someone to give me a lower rent, but it’s home, regardless of what it looks like.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a can of Josta. “Here, have this.”
“You came prepared,” he laughed, opening the can and taking a swig. It tasted just as sweet as it always had and he closed his eyes and sighed.
A chair scraped across the floor and he peeked open an eye to see Sylvie sitting down at the table, a bottle of OJ in her hands. She pushed the plates to the side with her arm and pointed at him to sit down.
“I watched you.”
Mobius frowned, taking a seat. “In what way?”
“After I left. You stood there and didn’t move.”
“That I did.” He put his can down onto the table and tapped his fingers against the sides.
Sylvie’s eyes were soft but it felt like she could see right through him. “I thought you needed an intervention.”
“A what?”
“An intervention. When a friend tries to stop you doing something harmful to yourself.”
Friend. The word rattled around his head, bringing up images of Loki, of Verity and Casey. He had thought Sylvie wouldn’t want to be his friend after everything, but just like meeting a real Loki had changed his understanding on who Lokis could be, Sylvie was doing the same again.
“I’ve never been good at this,” he admitted, turning the can around with his fingers. “I’ve always hoped that the next corner would mean I didn’t have to.”
Sylvie hummed, her eyes narrowing a little. “It’s better to face the problem in front of you.”
“But what if it’s not just in front?” he whispered, staring down at the table. “What if everything is built on a pack of lies?”
“And comes crumbling down?” she asked.
Mobius nodded his head. That is what he feared the most. Everything in him felt so heavy, that if it all collapsed, there might not be enough of him left to be anyone. Certainly not the person Loki knew.
Sylvie sat forward, reaching her hand out to lay beside his, but not touching. “It can feel like everything is ending, but sometimes the past is the past.”
“How can you say that? You were hunted like a dog by us. By me. I did this to you.”
“You also changed when you discovered what everything was.”
“But you told me I was selfish.”
“And you are, but so are we all.” She sat back in her chair and took another drink. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”
Mobius blinked. For the first time, it felt like he was really seeing her, how different she looked. Her hair was longer, and she’d almost grown her fringe out. A thin green ribbon was plaited into her hair, partially hidden behind her ear.
“How long has it been?”
“A while.”
“And how long was it for me? How long would I stand there?”
“Also a while, and then I decided to do something about it.” She tapped the tempad on her wrist.
He took a deep breath in. So that’s what he would have done? Use his freedom to let time pass around him and not experience anything. He gave a sad chuckle. Of course that sounded like him.
“So, are we back in 1982?” he asked.
“We are, yes. My old apartment but before I moved in. We won’t be disturbed by my past self.”
“You liked it here,” he guessed.
“I did. It was my first safe space where I could be alone and face my thoughts after I…” She shook her head. “It helped. I thought if I could heal here, maybe you could, too.”
“What happened to burn it to the ground?”
“Oh, we’ll do that, don’t worry, but after that, we’re building a new life for you.”
Sylvie had made them penne bolognese. She still couldn’t eat spaghetti since everything that had happened at the end of time, and Mobius was glad for it.
The food was good, and he realized she must’ve had decades if not centuries to perfect the recipe. He smiled; such is the world when you are a god with the most powerful tempad in the multiverse at your disposal. At least she was using it wisely.
Later, they’d sat down on the sofa and watched TV. It was kind of like watching people’s lives on the timeline, except most of the shows Sylvie put on were fiction. He found himself growing fond of the one with the talking car.
It was almost midnight when he felt his eyes finally droop.
“Hey,” Sylvie said, giving him a nudge. “You can take the bed.”
He’d argued. Of course he had argued. It was her apartment, she should be the one to sleep in her own bed. Everything he had said had fallen on deaf ears and Sylvie had eventually dragged him to the bedroom, pushed him in and closed the door on him.
The room was equally small, with a neat double bed and a free-standing wardrobe with clothes hanging from it. He walked over to the window and looked out at the night sky, seeing the moon peek out from beneath dark clouds. It was going to rain, probably during the night.
He closed the curtains and pulled his tie loose. Since he had been gifted a bed, the least he could do was take it. He slipped out of his shoes, undressed himself until he was wearing only his briefs, and then got into the bed.
The covers were soft, not like the scratchy material the TVA provided, and they surrounded him like a warm hug, one that he very much missed. If he had known that in the loom control room it would be the last time he saw Loki, he would have pulled him into his arms and held him close.
They never had enough time. The TVA was meant to be outside of it, of the fate the timelines had been subjected to, but that turned out to be false. There were so many things he would have done differently if only he’d have known.
Not that he expected anything of Loki. The god had never been free and Mobius would never trap him into something he didn’t want or need, but he would have told him.
“I love you, Loki,” he whispered. “I am…in love with you.”
Somehow saying it into the pillow didn’t feel real. He pressed his face into it and took a shuddering deep breath, blinking a few tears from his eyes. Something was trying to crawl up his throat, but it wasn’t able to escape.
He twisted around, facing the window and watched the clouds drift across the night sky, keeping the stars hidden from him. If Sylvie was right, then maybe this little place could help him heal.
Weeks later, the state of the apartment had changed dramatically. The dishes were cleaned and put away. He’d painted the walls with soft greens and golds and built a brand new chest of drawers for Sylvie’s clothes, although the one drawer allocated to his clothes was starting to get too full and he realized he might need to buy another unit.
After much coaxing, they had taken turns sleeping in the bed. Sylvie had looked much fresher when she wasn’t taking the couch and would wake and treat him to an extravagant breakfast like he’d only dreamed about.
It had been nice, just the two of them in this little bubble of theirs. Sylvie hadn’t pushed him to talk, but when Mobius wasn’t keeping himself occupied with manual labor, they’d spend hours watching all the TV shows they could.
It was after one particular night sitting in the dark of the living room that he finally spoke up.
“I guess I have been numbing myself.”
“Hmm,” said Sylvie, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV.
“Distractions.”
It was quiet except for the beating of his heart. He turned his head towards the window, looking at the darkness of the night sky. How many times did the weather here threaten rain, only to pitter out?
“Tell me,” Sylvie whispered, placing a pinkie on top of his.
“Like eating pie, or drinking cocoa. It’s easier on everyone else if I do that instead of…” he trailed off, and Sylvie didn’t fill the space like anyone else might have.
He turned to look at her although he couldn’t read her expression that well from the shadows across her face. Maybe that made this easier to speak, to start voicing some of the things he’d always kept from others.
Outside, the wind picked up and the windows rattled.
“I’ve harmed people. I’ve…” He shook his head. “I’ve killed people.”
“Haven’t we all?”
He laughed. “I suppose that’s true. But you did what you had to in order to survive.”
“And I think you did the same, unless you’re about to tell me differently.”
“I never thought we’d have that in common.”
“I never thought I’d be this patient with anyone, but turns out time does change things,” she chuckled, laying her head against his shoulder.
“How long did I stand there?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Too long, and I didn’t know how to help, but now I do.”
“By giving me time?”
“Space. Just like you gave Loki, and like I found myself. And it was hard, Mobius. It took so much time, but it was worth it in the end. It changed everything.”
“Except you still don’t do the dishes.”
“Hey,” Sylvie hissed, and Mobius smiled. “I’ll never be perfect.”
“None of us are.”
It was a few days later when Sylvie announced they would have to go back in time or else they’d bump into her past self.
“Go back? Do I need to paint this place all over again?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I think we could go back to 1981. That would give us most of the year before we need to do it again.”
Mobius sighed. “And if it takes longer than that?”
“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” Sylvie said, typing on her tempad.
They’d started going on lunchtime walks every day through the park. It wasn’t too far away from Sylvie’s little apartment and it felt good to stretch their legs and watch the ducks swim in the pond.
It was the tail end of spring and all the trees were filled with fresh green leaves eager to soak up the sun, and like he always did, Mobius thought of Loki and how instead of focusing on himself, he should be finding a way to get to him.
Sylvie must’ve noticed the change in his mood because she linked her arm with his and pulled them towards one of the trees, holding out her other hand to touch it.
“He’s not gone. I know we can find him.” She gave him a soft hopefully smile, then moved her hand to touch his heart instead. “But first you need to find yourself.”
“I know, I know. I just miss him so much.” He could feel tears welling in his eyes and he blinked, expecting them to clear up like they usually did, but this time a tear ran down his cheek and he gasped at it, touching his face to confirm that it was true.
Sylvie looked at him for a moment, almost as if she was as shocked as he was. “I think it’s starting to work.”
A few days later Mobius broke down into anguished sobs in the middle of the narrow hallway, between the kitchen and the living room. He knelt down onto the floor and covered his face with his hands as waves of emotion poured over him like a delude.
Sylvie was out getting groceries and he was meant to be clearing out the hallway cupboard, but he wasn’t. He was crying over how much of his life had been stolen from him, that he could’ve spent his aging years with two boisterous sons keeping him young.
He cried for all the people he had pruned, whether by his hand or by helping track them down. They never had a chance to live how they chose and instead were sent packing to the void to be swallowed up by Alioth. Mobius shivered at how cruel a fate it had been for billions.
Guilt clawed its way up his throat and he choked on it. It didn’t matter what anyone said about him not knowing the truth of it, he had felt it in his bones. He knew it was wrong, his scars were proof of that.
And then there was how he felt about Loki, how he missed him. He wanted him back so he could wrap his arms around him and tell him how much he cared. It was unfair that after everything Loki had done to change, he was still destined to be alone.
Mobius leaned his head down on the floor and then collapsed into a ball, lying on his side, letting the tears drip onto the thin rug that ran up the hallway. There must’ve been something he could have done to prevent this, something he had been missing that would’ve stopped this all from happening.
If only he had tried harder. If only he’d have seen it coming. He didn’t and that made him cry louder for what he lost.
He couldn’t tell how long he had lain on the floor, but he knew when Sylvie found him.
The next few months were a revelation in how often Mobius would cry. The simplest advert or plotline on a TV show would have tears falling down his face.
Sylvie never judged him. He wondered if she’d cried like this. It felt so disarming because he never knew what was going to set it off and how long it would last.
Sometimes, it would happen at night. He’d wake up and he’d sob with a hand over his mouth to try and muffle as much noise as possible so as to not wake Sylvie, but she would always hear and make him a herbal tea.
But in between the tears was anger. Everything hurt, nothing was fair and he hated it all. His blood would boil and then just as quickly it would morph back into hating himself and he’d dig his nails into his palms and hope the moment would fade.
He couldn’t tell how, but Sylvie seemed to know when to press him and when to walk away and leave him be. She didn’t poke and prod him the same way he had done to Loki in the time theater. She was patient in ways he didn’t expect and he had to ask again.
“How long was it for you before you came back to get me?”
“A long time.”
“How long exactly?”
“Long enough.”
“Why won’t you answer me?”
Sylvie shifted. For the first time in forever she looked uncomfortable. “It…was more than decades.”
“Centuries?”
“Yes.”
Mobius leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Did you think it would offend me? I’m not offended.”
“But I know Loki will have seen all of it and it…it would have broken his heart.” Tears fell down Sylvie’s face and she stood up, moving out of the way. “He did this for us, to give us a chance and then had to watch you just…stand there and give up. How is that fair?”
Mobius got up and pulled her into a hug. Sylvie struggled in his grip, banging her arms against his chest until finally she sagged and let him hold her, humming and rubbing his hand up and down her back.
“You once told me that the past is in the past. That’s true for you, too. And I didn’t live that life. You saved me from that.”
“But he saw it.”
“Yeah, well, he also saw how he died on the sacred timeline, so maybe it’s not the worst.”
“That’s not the same and you know it,” Sylvie said, pulling back from the hug. Her eyes were bright and shining in the mid-afternoon light and she wiped at them with her hands. “He’s stuck there at the end of time and can’t experience his own free will. I’ve had centuries and all I’ve been able to do is try to fix myself, and then fix you.”
“Sylvie. It’s okay.”
“It’s really not. I haven’t been able to find a way into the citadel at the end of time despite this being He Who Remains’ tempad,” she said, pointing at her wrist.
“We will find a way.”
“And if we don’t?”
“We will.”
Mobius was sweeping leaves off the driveway when Sylvie parked by the sidewalk and headed over with a giant cake covered in green and blue frosting.
“Surprise,” she said, smiling, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to make that, but thank you so much. There’s going to be tons left over unless I eat it all.”
“Maybe Loki will help you this time.”
“Oh, I’m sure he won’t.” Mobius grinned.
They walked through the gate to the backyard and into a scene of carnage as his two sons were squirting each other with water guns, squealing and shouting. When they spotted the cake, they came running over with wild, excited eyes.
“Can we get a slice, Dad? Please!” Theo said, looking only at the cake.
“Oh, hi, Auntie. Did you make this?” Erik said, elbowing his brother in the side, making him howl in pain dramatically.
“I did,” Sylvie said, crouching down. “I made it especially for your little sister.”
“She doesn’t eat cake,” said Theo. “All the more for me.”
“True, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind donating her slice to you as her big caring brothers, right?”
“Right,” agreed Erik.
Mobius put the cake down on their outdoor dining table and looked at Loki sitting with their newborn daughter underneath a green canopy attached to the giant ash tree at the end of the lawn. He smiled and gave a half wave, then returned to burping little Von with soft taps against her back.
If he could freeze any moment in time since Sylvie had helped him heal and they had rescued Loki from the end of time, perhaps this one is the one he would choose.