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Loki must have watched this unravel dozens of times by now.
Always the same… it begins on a dilapidated rooftop, and there’s a blinding flash of scarlet as a bolt of magical energy catches Mobius on the side of the head.
His body goes limp and he collapses, every load-bearing muscle instantly rendered inert.
A scream… his own?? He can never tell for sure.
Fiery rage, and the viridescent gleam of his own power surges forth, knocking the assailant to the ground.
And that’s where he wakes up.
…
…
Why hasn’t he woken up?
The frantic activity continued around him. Hunters raced over to both the enemy and Mobius, apprehending the former and tending to the latter. It was immediately clear, however, that they had no idea how to approach this beyond a basic check of his vitals.
Loki observed all of this in confusion. What was going on? His dream had never progressed this far before.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him, a familiar voice amplifying gradually to cut through the white noise in his head, speaking to him urgently.
“…. ki? Loki!”
He came back to himself with a sharp inhalation, snapping his head around to look at B-15, who was clearly frightened but was trying her best to hide it.
“Go help the guys with Mobius,” she said, her voice catching slightly, “They don’t know how to deal with magical attacks.”
And that’s when it finally hit him. This wasn’t actually his nightmare, the one that had been plaguing him for upwards of two months now.
This was real.
Loki forced himself to stumble forwards, stomach plummeting as he saw Mobius’ sprawled form in between the scattering of hunters standing around him helplessly. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, reaching out a shaking hand to place upon his forehead, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus.
It was a near impossible feat, however. Experiencing these events play out in harsh reality, and not while immersed in the nebulous haze inherent to one’s dreamscape, Loki had discovered something that his nightmares had neglected to impart.
This was his fault. Mobius was hurt because of him.
* * * * * * *
He could be sleeping, Loki thought wistfully.
It really did look like it. Aside from the fact he was hooked up to a variety of medical equipment, for purposes both monitoring and maintaining general health, Mobius otherwise appeared to be peacefully asleep.
Unfortunately, every effort to wake him so far, through stimulus both physical and chemical, had resulted in total non-responsiveness. It wasn’t a coma, as far as the medical staff could tell, but purely a lack of consciousness unlike anything they were versed in, due to its magical origins. There had been hope that Loki might be able to assist them in their investigations, but even if he were in the requisite state of mind, he strongly suspected he would also be at a loss.
Loki had made a valiant attempt at the scene to isolate the exact cause of Mobius’ malady, but his anxiety and guilt had overwhelmed him, preventing him from being able to delve any further than a cursory scan of his mind. From that meagre effort he couldn’t detect anything abnormal, and being otherwise stable, Mobius was extracted and transported to the TVA’s main infirmary.
After the doctors on duty had repeatedly flung every possible question at him, and then some, Loki had been left sitting alone in Mobius’ room on the ward while a multitude of tests were run and scans performed. An interminable wait later, his friend was finally wheeled back in by a couple of stony-faced medics, who offered no further information when Loki demanded it.
So it was there that he stayed, seated on the hard plastic chair at Mobius’ bedside. His elbows were propped on his knees, steepled fingers resting against his lips and shoulders tense as he stared intently at the abnormally static figure in front of him. Loki was vaguely aware that he himself hadn’t so much as shifted in an hour or more.
It was immaterial.
There was a gentle knock on the frame of the open door, and Loki jolted in surprise, lost as he was in a repetitious cycle of re-playing the moment on the rooftop, and wallowing in his resulting repentance.
B-15 entered cautiously, looking between him and Mobius. Her face fell at the confirmation of Mobius’ persisting condition.
“What do we know?” she asked Loki softly.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he ground out tersely, mounting frustration inflamed by his emotional turmoil.
“The doctors really can’t tell us anything?” she asked incredulously, graciously ignoring his tone.
Loki flicked his eyes to her in what could generously be called a glance, but was more than likely a glare. A barely-discernible shake of his head was about all he could produce in response. The tension inside of him was so tightly wound that he easily acknowledged how close he was to completely snapping and biting someone’s head off.
B-15 is a concerned friend, Loki reminded himself, trying to reign in his ire, This isn’t her fault, remember.
He briefly closed his eyes in shame.
She stepped closer, gaze fixed on Mobius. Reaching out to place her hand lightly on Mobius’ forearm, Loki was rocked as an irrational wave of possessiveness swept over him.
Don’t be ridiculous.
He had no right to feel anything of the sort, especially given the fact that Mobius was lying there because of him. He slumped back in the chair heavily, then glanced up to find B-15 watching him, her expression unreadable. Loki avoided eye contact, not game to face the accusation that he was sure would be evident.
“You’ll tell me if there’s any news?” she checked.
He gave a short nod. She hung around for a few more moments as though she wanted to say something else, but then turned to leave, her retreating footsteps echoing down the corridor.
* * * * * * *
More than a full day-cycle had passed following the incident, and absolutely nothing had changed. Mobius hadn’t moved, his vitals remained steady, no one had any answers… and Loki still sat in devoted observance.
Sometimes he spent the time scrutinising Mobius, watching keenly for the faintest flicker of an eyelid or the twitch of a finger. Other times Loki’s gaze was all but vacant as he got lost in his own head, figuring out what exactly he would have done differently if given a second chance. In the back of his mind he rationalised the foolishness of such thoughts. One cannot correct past mistakes… yet Loki couldn’t help himself.
Occasionally he did embark on a train of thought that was slightly more productive, in trying to recall if he’d ever learned anything about other branches of magic that might be potentially helpful. He continually came up empty-handed, though, and cursed his past self for not being more conscientious in his studies.
The other fleeting consideration he had was to leave the infirmary and peruse the archives… surely the wealth of knowledge in that vast depository would result in something, anything. But from what he could glean, there was already a team of researchers being enlisted to undertake the task, and logically he knew they were a lot more efficient at sourcing information than he would be.
Anyway, if he were to be completely honest with himself, one look at Mobius lying there and any thought of leaving, for any reason at all, went right out the window.
One of the doctors strode into the room, a woman that Loki was fairly familiar with. He immediately sprang to his feet expectantly, desperately hoping for news.
He flopped back into the chair seconds later, when she simply shook her head sadly.
“I’m so sorry, Loki,” she said, the informal use of his first name conveying her genuine remorse, “All his scans and test results have been examined three times over now, and we are still no closer to finding out what’s wrong.”
Loki sighed, leaning forwards and burying his face in his hands. How could they have turned up nothing? It made no sense.
“You of all people know we’re not great with magical injuries,” she continued, “It seems the best we can offer are educated guesses… ‘educated’ of course being the operative word.”
Loki grunted and nodded once, feeling helpless. His dejection must have been palpable, because after he roughly rubbed at his face and opened his eyes, he found her brow pinched in sympathy… the demeanour unusual for her.
“We should take some comfort from these test results though, yes? Mobius is physically healthy, and his brain activity, although minimal in his current state, is not exemplary of obvious injury or trauma. He simply… doesn’t want to wake up. Just yet,” she hastily added, seeing Loki’s face fall even further.
He nodded again silently, unable to speak even if he had any words. The doctor quickly checked the stats on the monitoring devices and made some notes on Mobius’ chart, then turned to leave, before stopping again in the doorway.
“You know he’d expect you to stay strong, and look after yourself,” she said pointedly. Only hesitating a second longer, she didn’t so much as wait for an answer before leaving, likely knowing there was none coming.
* * * * * * *
Characteristically, Loki did get somewhat restless during his vigil, and every few hours would get up to pace back and forth in the small room until the flare of energy faded, and he once again slouched in his chair. If Mobius refused to wake up for much longer, it was possible he might wear a trench into the linoleum.
It was during one of these infrequent bursts of activity that Ouroboros and Casey came by for a visit. Loki was emphatically not in the mood for company, to put it mildly, but was able at least to be civil.
“Hey Loki,” OB said, still with his trademark cheeriness, but notably more sedate.
Loki made eye contact and gave him what he intended to be an acknowledging smile. It was unlikely successful. Casey simply stared wide-eyed at Mobius, taking in all of the machines surrounding him with something akin to horror.
“Have they been able to work anything out yet?” OB asked with a degree of gentleness.
“No," he replied shortly.
“Wow, really? That is rough. Poor Mobius.”
Loki turned away, taking a composing breath. He wasn’t sure if he was about to lose it at OB, or simply in general, but if the two of them stayed here much longer Loki was sure he would rapidly approach the point where he might say something he’d regret.
Casey chose that moment to abruptly turn and leave anyway, without even speaking a word. Loki did look over at that, perplexed.
“I think he doesn’t like the infirmary,” OB confessed, “He was really anxious about coming here today.”
He took the opportunity to look Loki up and down, clearly unsatisfied with what he saw.
“You can't allow yourself to fall apart, Loki,” he said quietly, “I know you’re worried, and that’s understandable, but Mobius would not be happy seeing this,” he made a sweeping gesture at Loki.
Loki looked away. He couldn't hear this, not right now. His eyes blurred, but he rapidly blinked the moisture away.
“We all care about him,” OB carried on, “But believe it or not we care about you too. Please prioritise yourself, otherwise... he’s going to get really mad at us.”
The attempt at humour predictably fell flat.
It was the second time he'd been told this now, and it was already getting old. He was fine, he was right where he was supposed to be. Where he needed to be.
Why was that so hard for everyone to understand?
Ouroboros gave Loki a melancholy half-smile, then left him alone once more, although seemingly unwilling to do so.
The solitude didn’t offer Loki the relief he was craving.
* * * * * * *
For the most part, Loki had been cherishing the experience of developing new friendships at the TVA. Having people to care for, who cared for him in turn, was a rare pleasure, and he tried very hard not to take it for granted.
He felt a little differently, however, almost four days after the incident, when B-15 and OB took it upon themselves to stage some sort of intervention that morning right there in the infirmary. They presented a united front in an effort to get Loki to take a break from “mooning around like a heartsick teenager” and to “pull yourself together so that when Mobius wakes up we don’t have to break it to him that you’ve died.”
While he applauded them for not mincing their words, none of that compelled him in the slightest to acquiesce to their suggestions. In a distant recess of his mind, he did realise what he was doing was self-destructive. For some reason, he didn’t really care. Rationality seemed to take a back seat when it came to how he felt about Mobius.
And that was something he didn’t have the capacity to examine, not right now.
But when they had the gall to tell him “this is not your fault, Loki, and you’d better not be slowly killing yourself because you think it is!”, he’d heard enough, and sent them packing... none too kindly. That was not what he was doing. For starters, he was nowhere near the point of slowly killing himself, as they put it. Preposterous. And yes, it was most certainly his fault, and it was eating him up inside, but guilt wasn’t the only thing keeping him affixed to Mobius’ bedside.
Loki couldn’t say any of this though, even if he’d wanted to. Because whatever the other thing was, he hadn’t a name for it.
That was this morning, though. Now… now his fire was well and truly gone, and he was drowning in despair.
The doctor had returned yet again for the second of her twice daily check-ins with him, and instead of the usual empty platitudes, she had impressed confronting statements such as, “done all we can,” “researchers have found nothing,” “trying to track down magically gifted variants who may cooperate,” but, “it's unlikely to get approval.”
Mobius’ case was currently under review by the absolute highest authorities at the TVA, and Loki was terrified as to what that might mean for him moving forwards. He briefly entertained the rather insane idea of stealing a tempad and whisking Mobius away to some remote place on the timelines to care for him himself. But even in his less-than-stable emotional state, he realised that he had no means to keep Mobius alive when he wasn’t conscious.
The doctor had eventually taken her leave, and Loki now sat alone with his chair pulled close to Mobius, grasping his hand gently, drawing upon the last remaining wisp of his tenacity, determined to not completely fall apart. He felt so tired, and so… empty. The last few days had been infused with stress, fear and barely repressed anger, but all of that had now faded to nothing.
Loki was merely a husk, and he could feel a cold wind tugging at him, trying to carry him away.
How could he have botched things so terribly that he was going to lose Mobius?
He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen.
Curling over, he pressed his forehead to Mobius’ hand. Tears pricked his eyes, but he was too emotionally spent to even cry.
One last desperate plea was whispered into the silence of the room.
* * * * * * *
An incoherent rumble of low voices gently roused Loki, but not enough for him to even consider opening his eyes. After that though was a lengthy peaceful silence, and he very nearly drifted off again, until he realised the reason he felt so unimaginably relaxed… someone was playing with his hair.
Ohh, that’s incredible.
He sighed contentedly, feeling like he was melting. The fingers brushing through his curls hesitated for a moment, then carried on with their tender stroking.
“Loki?” a quiet voice spoke.
“Mmm…” was all Loki could manage.
A light chuckle, then the fingers moved to his face, grazing his cheek; once, twice.
“You awake, sleepyhead?” the voice teased.
“No…” Loki huffed, barely audible.
“Come on, I made the effort, the least you could do is reciprocate.”
The warm amusement he caught stirred something in the back of his mind.
Wait, what?
Loki's eyes fluttered open with effort, and he found himself still perched on that cursed plastic seat, hunched over with his head lying on the edge of the infirmary bed… in which the occupant was sitting semi-reclined, and gazing down at him affectionately.
He bolted upright.
“Mobius!”
“Hey Loki,” Mobius said with an easy smile.
Loki stared in shock. He had to be dreaming, this couldn’t be real.
Mobius’ brow creased with worry.
“Are you alright? You look awful,” he commented, the bluntness of his words tempered with care.
Loki shook his head slightly in disbelief, otherwise still frozen. It wasn't possible, was it? But as Mobius tilted his head, confused over his lack of response, something deep inside of him snapped... released. Loki rocketed forwards, grabbing Mobius in a fierce hug. Where there was a gaping hollowness in his chest, now it rapidly swelled with emotion; his eyes burning in an instant.
“Mobius…” he gasped breathlessly as adrenaline surged, burying his face in his shoulder. Loki felt arms encircle him and pull him close, and he lowered himself onto the bed to lean into the embrace. He couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and began to cry unashamedly as Mobius rubbed his back, whispering soothingly into his ear.
It took several minutes for Loki to calm; the tension, worry and guilt pouring out of him in an overwhelming torrent. With every shuddering breath, Mobius held him tighter, a lifeline in a dizzying maelstrom. Loki wasn't sure that he'd ever felt anything so intensely in his long life as the sweet relief that coursed through him. Mobius was back, he'd come back to him. He couldn't believe it.
He breathed deeply as he turned his face towards Mobius' neck, catching the comforting scent that was uniquely him. His heart was full to bursting.
Eventually he was sufficiently recovered to withdraw, albeit reluctantly. But he needed to see Mobius, to make sure he really was there; whole and complete and... and glorious. Sniffling, breath still hitching a little, he wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist, then blinked at Mobius in awe.
“When- when did you wake up?” he asked shakily, slightly congested.
“About an hour ago, I think,” Mobius replied. He was gazing at Loki in concern, and reached up to cup his face in one hand.
“Loki. I’m serious, are you okay?” he inquired softly as he searched Loki’s eyes, looking for an answer rather than waiting for one.
“I will be, now,” Loki whispered in response, swallowing hard as he covered Mobius’ hand with his own.
“What happened to me, anyway?” Mobius asked, running a thumb over Loki’s damp cheek, “‘A magical attack’ was pretty much all I was able to get out of the doctor who was in here earlier, and I haven’t spoken to anyone else yet.”
Fresh tears welled in Loki’s eyes.
“It was my fault,” he forced out around the persistent lump in his throat, “I’m so sorry Mobius, it was all my fault!”
His breathing grew ragged once more in his desperation to not lose control again. Mobius hurriedly grasped both of his hands, squeezing them in comfort.
“Hey, hey, that’s enough of that,” he scolded lightly, “Come here.”
He gently pulled Loki down to lie on his chest. Loki closed his eyes and tried to re-centre himself as Mobius held him close with one arm, his other hand once more occupied with fingers carding through his hair. Loki inhaled deeply as he listened to Mobius’ reassuring heart beat, and a few more stray tears leaked out in his unfathomable relief.
“I don’t for a second believe that you are to blame,” Mobius said firmly, after several long moments.
Loki tensed as he prepared to refute this, but was promptly shushed with a soft tap on the side of his head.
“No, stop. You’d never intentionally hurt me. And the doc told me I was hit by the variant’s magic, not yours.”
“But it- “ Loki began to protest, but Mobius cut him off.
“Nope, not listening.”
Loki sighed, weary beyond all belief. It was all well and good for Mobius to insist upon his supposed guiltlessness. He wasn’t the one who had the awful moment of the spell’s impact playing on loop in his head, branded into his cerebral cortex for all eternity.
Nor had he suffered the incident haunting his dreams every single night, from so many weeks before it had even occurred. Even the medication Loki tried hadn’t prevented the pervasive visions from disturbing him nightly.
“It was my nightmare,” Loki confessed, “That moment, on the rooftop, that’s what I’ve been dreaming about for what feels like forever now.”
“So it was premonitory,” Mobius said, sounding impressed.
“Apparently, although I’ve never previously experienced anything resembling the phenomena.”
“Well, first time for everything,” Mobius proclaimed jocularly.
Loki lifted his head to regard him, unimpressed at the flippancy.
“It did little good,” Loki pointed out with a weak scowl, “In fact, the gods-damned dreams were likely the reason I was tired enough to supremely fumble something so elementary as a deflection of magical energy.”
“You did deflect it!” an exasperated voice cried from the doorway. Loki sat up quickly in surprise, slightly mortified at B-15 finding him cuddled against Mobius, his vulnerability on full display.
Not to mention how it might otherwise have looked to her…
He could feel his cheeks flushing, but he squared his shoulders, looking at her evenly. There was no fooling her though, he knew. Fortunately, she was not one for petty teasing, not with regard to matters of the heart.
“Don’t listen to him, Mobius,” she advised, “He’s been silently berating himself for days over this. We’re all sick to death of it.”
“I can imagine,” Mobius replied, shaking his head with a tiny upturn of his lips. Loki glared at them both.
“It’s wonderful to see you finally awake, by the way,” B-15 smiled warmly, and Mobius returned it, “But as to what I was saying, Loki actually very effectively deflected a spell that was aimed at one of the hunters standing next to you. He saved her life. But the blast meant for her rebounded off Loki’s shield at an unfortunate angle, and it impacted in a glancing blow to your head.”
“Knocking me out, but not hitting directly enough to kill me,” he guessed.
Loki flinched bodily, which they both politely ignored.
“Exactly. So you’ve been in here ever since we brought you back several days ago. And… so has he,” she finished, tipping her head towards Loki pointedly.
Mobius turned from her to regard Loki, one eyebrow raised in silent query. Instead of answering, Loki looked down at his lap, fidgeting at the scrutiny.
“Has he- “
“Slept? Eaten? Gone for a walk, even? None of the above, as far as I’m aware,” B-15 informed him, brow heavy with extreme disapproval.
“He was asleep when I came to earlier, I should have let him be,” Mobius said with regret.
“Well, that would be the first time in… four day-cycles? Or is it five now?”
“Four and three-quarters, and I am in the room, you know,” Loki bit out sullenly.
“Yes, well that’s the issue, isn’t it?” B-15 smirked.
Loki’s temper was in danger of spiking, emotional stress and pronounced exhaustion wearing down his resistance to the smallest of jabs. Mobius must have detected this, as Loki felt a gentle touch on his hand.
“I’ll handle this B, but thanks for letting me know. And for dropping by, of course,” his smile was as friendly as ever, but the dismissal in his tone made it clear that he wished to be alone with Loki.
B-15 inclined her head knowingly.
“I’ll come see you again later,” she assured him, “I’m really glad you’re okay, Mobius.”
As she left, Loki looked back down at the hand now joined with Mobius’, unwilling to make eye contact, lest he be unfairly judged for his apparent self-neglect.
Although he suspected it was a little too late for that.
They sat in silence for a minute or two, Mobius lightly stroking the back of Loki’s hand with his thumb.
“Loki…” he began gently, then shook his head as though suddenly changing his mind.
“You’re an idiot,” he declared.
Loki snapped his head up to look at him, slightly affronted at the unexpectedly harsh words. Yet he found Mobius’ eyes expressing a mixture of worry and adoration, and that was probably harder to handle.
“Yes, well… I’m not even going to attempt to defend myself, as I know it would be useless,” he replied, managing to retain a modicum of dignity... he hoped.
“You’re damn right it would,” Mobius agreed, a little gruffly in his vehemence.
Loki remained silent, gazing at their hands once more. Something ambiguous stirred inside of him as he relished the warmth and comforting weight of Mobius’ on his.
After a few moments, Mobius took pity on his lack of a valid argument, or any argument, for that matter.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered, mind you,” he continued, a sparkle of humour in his eyes as Loki glanced up, “Y’know, that you’d sacrifice some beauty sleep and a couple of meals just to sit here with boring old me.”
“You’re not boring,” Loki said before he could stop himself, “And it was the least I could possibly do, short of undoing the entire incident. Would that I could,” he added the last to himself, bitterness creeping into his voice.
Mobius’ face turned serious.
“Your insanely misguided guilt can’t be the reason you sat here that entire time,” he said, “Not the only one, at least. I know you Loki. If it was simply a matter of you beating yourself up, you would have taken it out on the combat dummies down in the training room.”
Loki opened his mouth to reply, but realised too late that he again had no response. Mobius was correct of course. In the past, whenever he felt he’d done something stupid or unforgivable, the training room was always his first port of call. But not this time, and Loki was at a loss as to why.
All he knew was that the idea of leaving Mobius for any length of time had been abhorrent; completely unthinkable. He couldn’t handle the possibility of some awful development happening while he was gone, or Mobius potentially waking up all alone after being hit by an unidentifiable spell that could have done fifty kinds of permanent damage.
Trivial things like food and sleep were just that, trivial. Loki’s need to be here for Mobius had far outweighed any basic necessities.
“So why did you stay here, all that time?” Mobius asked gently. A delicate urgency coloured his words, as though something very important hinged upon Loki’s answer.
“I- I don’t… I… I just had to,” Loki murmured, looking at the floor and lifting a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
He could feel Mobius’ eyes on him, and eventually raised his own to meet his gaze. The usual fondness was there, and as always it filled him with warmth, but there was something else too…
Understanding? Recognition?
Hope?
No, that made little sense...
Loki barely had time to process this before Mobius severed the contact.
“The doc wants me to stay another twelve hours or so, although thankfully free of all that stuff they had me hooked up to,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. He lightly squeezed Loki’s hand, still beneath his, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile.
“If you promise me you’ll go shower and eat right now - and I mean actual food, something remotely substantial, thank you very much - I’ll pull some strings and see if I can get you more comfortable accommodation for tonight,” Mobius winked at him conspiratorially, the beguiling gesture causing an unexpected heat to bloom inside of him.
Hel, maybe he really was in rougher shape than he realised.
Having to stand and walk more than a few steps were bigger challenges than he would care to admit, although not nearly as difficult as tearing himself away from Mobius. Regardless, Loki managed to reach his quarters and get washed and changed with no major issues. He was admittedly shocked by his haggard appearance in the slightly steamed-up mirror of his tiny bathroom, beginning to understand why Mobius had been so concerned earlier. Seeing what everyone else could see, it finally hit home how positively exhausted he was.
Not inclined to sit alone in the cafeteria, he instead grabbed a pre-packed sandwich and nibbled on it as he wandered back to the infirmary. He returned to find Mobius sitting up in bed and looking rather smug, then noticed the cosy-looking reclining armchair right alongside him.
“You got that for me?” Loki asked, as Mobius grinned at his obvious appreciation, “I assumed you’d just convince them to drag in a second torture-rack,” he gestured at the bed.
“Hey, anything for you,” Mobius stated so readily that Loki felt his face warming.
Gods, get a hold of yourself.
He flattened the recliner to almost horizontal using the control panel on the side, then stood leaning back against the armrest, his smile almost shy.
“Thank you, really,” he said, softened tone effectively expressing his gratitude. Mobius reached over to pat his leg.
“Go on, lie down,” he insisted, as Loki tried to stifle a yawn, “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
And how did Mobius know that’s exactly what he needed to hear?
Loki nodded tiredly, and grabbed the folded blanket left for him on the seat of the chair, getting himself comfortable before rolling onto his side to face Mobius. Inexplicably reluctant to close his eyes, but knowing he was mere seconds away from the inevitable, he sleepily stretched out his hand, dropping it on the bed next to Mobius’ in unspoken invitation. Between slow blinks, he vaguely registered the loving gaze being directed his way, fuelling the restorative glow that had ignited within. Finally allowing himself to fall asleep once more, he felt warm fingers tangle in his, and smiled softly in serene contentment.
For the first time in far too long, he slept without dreams.