A/N: hey guys! i hope you're doing well, new chapter! thanks for any and all feedback. i'm curious what you thought of the finale...i may have to branch off a little for this story...😈 anyways i hope you enjoy! stay safe! :)
•••••
two
••••••
Though he was unaware of it, Mobius' reflection shone within the golden metal shade of the lamp beside him, so that I could occasionally glance at him, admiring him when he was lost in thought and therefore unaware of me. He was sifting through files about Loki, while the Variant himself lounged between us in a chair, its legs tipped and balancing dangerously as he rocked himself back and forth in boredom. He placed a pencil between his pursed lips and tried to hold it still, amusing himself until Mobius casually reached out and kicked at the legs of the chair.
Loki scrambled to catch himself. The pencil fell from his mouth, clacked against the ground and rolled away from us. I smiled to myself, all the more entertained as Loki childishly shoved at a towering stack of folders belonging to Mobius, letting them tip sideways and spill across the desk. Mobius threw up his hands, turning his eyes to Loki.
Loki feigned innocence. "What?"
Mobius sighed, shoving out his chair from the desk and standing to his full height. "All right. I need a snack. Mila?"
From the subtle tilt of his head, I understood that he wished for me to follow rather than tell him what snack I would like. I rolled my eyes and marked the page that I had been reading; the fourteenth page in a file totalling two-hundred. Loki smiled, resembling a reptile in how his lips curled and his eyes seemed to coldly watch me. He took great pleasure in teasing and bothering us while we worked, enough so that I was inwardly relieved that Mobius had given me an excuse to leave the table.
Mobius walked us through a hallway, toward some vending-machines that we never quite reached, because he grasped my arm and turned me to stand still in front of a ledge overlooking the rest of the TVA. Mobius shot a glance at the long, empty hallway behind us as if he worried Loki had followed, attempting to eavesdrop. But we were entirely alone.
His chin rested against his chest for a moment. His eyes lifted to look at me through his lashes. "What do you think?"
I waited a moment, but he said nothing more. "Of what?"
"Loki." Mobius brought his hands together with a clap and rubbed them. "Do you…I don't know…"
"Do I like him? Well, let me think. He sure is eloquent. He called me a snivelling wretch earlier. Worthless, crude, unintelligent –…"
"Sounds like he's warming to you already."
I huffed, crossing my arms.
He winced. "You don't think this can work, do you?"
"I think you would like for it to work."
He kept his hands pressed together, as if pleading with me. "I know I'm asking a lot here," he said. "I'm asking you to give him a shot."
"Why? Because he might be able to give us some insight into this Variant? He could be using you just to spare himself, Mobius. I bet he's over there right now, plotting some grand scheme –…"
"He won't try anything." He saw my doubtful expression and added, "Not here, anyway. Too many Minutemen around. Didn't work out so well for him the last time."
"Exactly, Mobius. There was a 'last time'. He could kill you."
"Oh, please. He's a kitten. Just a tiny, fluffy, whining, miserable, infantile little kitten."
I loosened up, smiling reluctantly. "Now who's the eloquent one?"
"In another life, I could have been a poet." He reached out to hold my shoulders. "Look, Mila, this Variant – the other Loki out there – they are far, far more dangerous than the Loki we have in there. He's our only shot. I know you don't trust him, but you trust me, right?"
"Oh, that is so not fair. Of course, I trust you. It's just…Come on, Mobius."
He let out a long, exaggerated breath and released his hold on me, dropping his arms to his sides. I eyed him warily as he took a step back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Okay. I'm gonna have to do it."
"Do what?"
"I didn't want to do it," he said. "But certain circumstances have led me to take action –…"
"Knock it off. Do what?"
"I'm gonna have to pull the Brazilian vampire card here."
I scoffed at him. "You wouldn't dare."
"I'm doing it," he said. "I'm pulling the card. I don't wanna do it. But you're giving me no choice here."
He held up his hand, pinching an imagined card. I looked at it, even if there was nothing there, my shoulders dipping in frustration.
"Mobius –…"
"You asked me to trust you that time you were chasing the vampire Variant in Brazil," he said quickly. "Even though I knew it was a bad idea, even though I could have run right to Ravonna and told her you were breaking protocol by going after him on your own, even though you ended up with a dislocated shoulder – I didn't. I never told anybody. Why?"
"Because I asked you to trust me," I grumbled quietly.
"Because you asked me to trust you," he said, speaking much more loudly. "That's right. So, I'm asking you to do the same for me. There might even be a hot-chocolate in it for you. Come on, Mila, say you trust me –…"
He lightly bumped against my arm, his tone once again teasing and light.
I shoved him away. "Quit it."
"Come on," he said again. "You do, I know you do –…"
Though it was childish, I pretended to snatch the card from his hand. "All right! But that's the last time we ever bring up the Brazilian vampire case. The card is nullified, as of right now," I said. "And you can pick me up some chocolate while you're near those vending-machines. Anything else and I'll start helping Loki instead of you."
"Right away," he grinned. "I knew I could count on you. That's why you're my favourite, right?"
I tried to control the wild blush which spread across my cheeks. He had never said favourite agent, or anything else. Just favourite. It was a small, silly thrill which flit through me, one that he may not have noticed as he turned to continue down the hall, while I returned to the desk where Loki was still sitting, straightening paperclips which he would then flick at other tables to distract himself. I shoved a folder into his lap and reached for my own file.
The bookmark had been moved to page forty-four. I looked up at Loki, glaring at him. His eyes met mine and he grinned, tossing another paperclip which clicked against the golden lampshade and skittered off into the aisle behind me.
x
Before Mobius could return, Loki had taken to reading. It had surprised me, once he snatched a file and began scanning its long typewritten paragraphs. It surprised me even more that he paused, glanced up at me and asked, "Do you believe in these…Timekeepers, then?"
"Of course," I said. "They created the TVA. They created me and Mobius."
"Oh, and what a fine job they did, too," he snarked. "Preposterous, this whole thing. I mean, surely you must realise that? The absurdity of it all."
Then his eyes were seeking out mine, not allowing me to look away. I was alone with him, apart from the Minutemen at either end of the library, blocking the doors, keeping him (and me) inside. He was less impressive, up close, I thought. Handsome, certainly, but far more human than he would like to hear. He had lines; laughter lines, which made me wonder how much he could have laughed in a life like his, which filled the pages underneath our hands, which could have filled an entire aisle on their own had those other versions of him not been pruned and cut short. He was inching ever closer, as if he had spotted something in me. I wanted to keep reading, to ignore him, but he grinned, lightly smacking at the table.
"I see," he breathed out. "And when did that happen?"
(when did that happen?)
"You should keep reading," I said.
"Why should I? Tripe, nonsense, the lot of it. And you know it." His hand rested on my wrist, forcing me to stop flipping through a folder. "I understand, you know. I could –…"
The sound of a cup placed against the table distracted us both. He glared up at Mobius, who had returned with the hot-chocolate and arms laden in candy that he unceremoniously dropped onto the folders and paperwork. A hard-boiled sweet rolled to Loki, who glanced down at it, lips shrivelled back in disgust. Slowly, though, his wrist slithered away from mine. I felt the warmth linger. Mobius sniffed once, then put his hands on his hips, his gaze flicking between us.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
"Marvellous," Loki drawled. He plucked the hard-boiled candy from the table and placed it in his mouth, adding, "Simply marvellous."
"Good." Mobius slid back into his seat. "Don't choke. Would hate for anything to happen to you, buddy."
Loki smiled sarcastically, gripping the file and finally returning to his reading.
Mobius looked at me and mouthed: are you okay?
I nodded, picking up my own file, which I then hastily smoothed against the table because I saw that my hands were much too shaky and he would notice, otherwise.
x
Later, in the lull of the afternoon, I had to leave Loki and Mobius behind to meet with Ravonna. There had been an issue in the paperwork that had been filed about the Variant in Paris, and she had wanted to discuss it alone. I had been worried about that part, because it was unusual for Ravonna to personally speak with agents about misfiled paperwork. It was for the clerks to harass us and wave stamps at us, to remind us that one page needed to be tabbed but another signed, until all the world seemed made of inkwells and staplers.
Yet it had taken me a while to return all those folders to their rightful place within the library and sign out each copy that I had taken, so that I had had enough time to prepare myself mentally. Mobius had found it funny. But I had been afraid she might want to fire me.
"Fire you?" Mobius had said. "For what?"
"Maybe someone told her about the Brazilian vampire," I had said. "And that I ran off in Paris, too."
"No agent has ever been fired from the TVA, Mila," he had told me. "She'll just wanna talk, that's all."
So, I slipped into her office with mumbled apologies about my tardiness and sat on the firm, low seat of her sofa, rounded in a semi-circle. She brought coasters but I did not sip whiskey like Mobius did, which seemed to be their own little tradition. I was not that close to her, so she took cool bottled water from a mini-fridge and offered one to me while she kept another for herself. I sipped slowly, always eyeing her along the length of the bottle. She had left her own water untouched, smoothing out her pencil skirt as she sat beside me.
"So, Mila," she said. "Busy day?"
"No more than usual," I said. "How about you?"
"This Loki Variant has given me more than a headache, I'll admit. Don't tell Mobius, but I was so sick of it all that I would have agreed to anything he asked if it helped him end this whole mess – anything. But I never thought he'd ask to work with the Variant."
"Yeah, well, he always thinks outside the box."
"He came to see me, you know. Oh, 'bout a half-an-hour before you got here." She rubbed tiredly at her temples. "Apparently, Loki had a breakthrough. He thinks the Variant is hiding out in apocalypses. That way, we never find them."
It was ingenious. "Then Mobius knows where to find him?"
"He should be gearing up to head out in the next few minutes. Of course, I told him that I would like for you to join him, this time around. He agreed. I assigned Hunter V-63 and her team of Minutemen, on top of Hunter B-15 and her team."
"Both teams?"
"It might seem like overkill for one Variant, I know." Ravonna heaved a sigh, hugging herself. "But in this last week alone, the Variant has killed more Minutemen than any other Variant in the history of the TVA. And they kidnapped Hunter C-20. The Hunters are on edge and the Minutemen are losing faith in our ability to apprehend this Variant. If Mobius thinks he has a shot here – well, frankly, I think it best we give him all the firepower he could need. Besides, it seemed like you handled your last case pretty well."
"I got lucky," I said. "That was all."
"Then I guess Mobius could use that kind of luck right about now," she said. "Watch each other's backs out there, okay?"
"Is that concern I hear in your voice?"
She chuckled. "I think if anyone should be concerned, it's the Variant. I'm sending my two best agents out there."
I dared to be a little more bold and teasing, in the hopes it might soften any nervousness in me. I was a seasoned agent, but I was still unsure as to the reason she wished to speak with me privately. I was more and more certain that it was not paperwork and that the mission had cropped up, unexpected, cutting off whatever it was she had intended to say.
"Mobius isn't here, Ravonna. You can say I'm your best agent – and your favourite."
that's why you're my favourite, right?
She pushed off the desk, smoothing her skirt. "Now you're both trying your luck."
"He tried that line too, huh?"
"Oh, yeah. And I'll tell you what I told him," she said. "I have no favourites. I like an agent who can get the job done, whatever the cost."
I snorted. "Well, I'm touched. But that means I need to head out and I thought – I thought you wanted to talk about some paperwork."
Finally, she leaned forward and grabbed her bottled water. She uncapped it, swirling it once before taking three gulps. She closed it and placed it on the table. It took only seconds, yet I felt aged and tired and far too hyperaware of myself.
"It can wait," she said, shrugging. "Not that important."
I watched her with the strangest sense that she was lying; we were agents, trained to tell apart those subtle twitches that signalled fibs, but Ravonna was smooth. She met my eyes and her lips rose in a smile, one that promised it was a forgotten signature or a smudged, illegible letter that had caused all this fuss and nothing more. I felt pressured, not only by the teams of Minutemen preparing themselves in the locker-room, who would undoubtedly be waiting on me if I stayed here any longer, but also pressured by some faint strain blooming within me. It was as if her room had suddenly flooded with Minutemen, all of whom watched me like I watched her (what does she know?), seeking out the tiniest tell – the lift of a brow, the eyes flitting sideways, a fake and pained laugh meant to mute all doubt.
Her smile held fast. "Go ahead," she said. "Be Mobius' lucky-charm, would you?"
"Sure," I said.
I stood on unsteady legs, limply moving myself toward the door, which seemed at each step to push itself further and further from me.
"Mila?" Ravonna called.
I stilled. "Yes?"
"You forgot your water."
Dimly, I remembered that bottled water sitting on her table and I took it in an automatic movement, the sweep of my hand to grasp its ribbed sides, smiling weakly at her (she knows something). I laughed it off and moved toward the door, blowing out that tension from between my lips before she could call me back. The door dragged itself shut behind me. I stood there for another second, righting myself as if I had been struck, or rather I had missed some kind of fist swung at me, like Loki had punched me in the hallway, knocked me sideways and tried not to let me stand upright again.
But I was standing and I was thinking, somewhat clearly, clearly enough to ask myself: mobius was right. no agents have ever been fired from the tva. so what ever happened to the agents who were here and aren't anymore?
x
Tugging the protective vest around myself, I tightened the straps. The locker-room was teeming with Minutemen, readying their batons, fixing the straps of their helmets and vests and boots. I stood aside from them, turning to sit on a bench so I could lace my boots more tightly. I could hear murmurs passed between the Minutemen about Hunter C-20. I was not sure what the Variant could have wanted with her, but it did not bode well for us and even that small admission made me fumble with the knot on my laces. I started again, glancing briefly at Hunter V-63 who sat beside me.
"Another chase," she said. "Another Variant."
"Another Variant," I repeated.
"You think we might find Hunter C-20 out there?"
Slipping off the bench, my boot thudded against the scuffed tiles underneath me. "I hope so."
"You know that last Variant – in Paris –…" She was quiet for a moment. "Have you thought about her?"
It was like a sealant formed around us as soon as I nodded. It cut off all the other sound within the room; or perhaps it blurred it, so that it felt like it had in the catacombs with too much blood battering against my eardrums. It felt as if I sat with her in a tunnel, she at one end and I at the other and there was this yawning gap of space between us, stretching ever further between us, further and further.
Yet I had never been closer to her, with the bench creaking, our knees almost touching, her helmet dully shining against the cold light overhead.
She was looking at me. She was truly and fully looking at me, seeking out something within me that I could not name, like Loki had done, as if she were seeing something that had not been there before (when did that happen?). I thought that I should keep lacing my boots, I should ignore her, but my hands remained flat and useless in my lap.
She was still looking.
She saw my jawline and noticed my ears and followed the line of my nose, moving ever closer to my eyes. Suddenly, I wanted her to look anywhere but into my eyes, because I was sure that she would find it then, whatever it was. She was like me, a bloodhound on a scent, incapable of leaving that track until she came to its end.
"It reminded me of something," she said absently, like the words simply slipped out before she could catch them. "Did you have that feeling, too?"
I had long since rubbed off the ointment meant to heal my cut lip, but it seemed to linger and my lips moved sluggishly because of it.
"Yes," I said. My voice sounded hoarse, even to myself. "I don't know what."
"Me neither," she said. "Yet it's all that I can think about."
"Did you –…" I hesitated, thinking of Ravonna, of what I had sensed in her office. "Did you say anything on your paperwork? About – what you're thinking? About how you feel?"
One of the lockers was slammed shut behind me, startling me. It sliced through the bubble around us. She was aware of herself, aware of her hands and wrists and arms beyond that, because before that, we seemed not to be corporeal or real. It was only then, with that realisation, that she could push herself off the bench. I stood, too, aimlessly. She reached out, tightened the strap of my vest so that it constricted me that little bit tighter. She moved back.
"Hunter B-15 is heading the mission," she told me. "She'll be offering a briefing in a few minutes."
"Good," I said.
"Another chase," she said. "Another Variant."
"Another Variant," I repeated.
x
Stepping into place alongside me, Mobius handed me a raincoat, kindly holding out its arms for me. I thanked him and fastened its lowest buttons, all the while noting that Loki was studying me from the other side of the circle we stood in, waiting for B-15 to begin her briefing. It was not entirely unnerving. He seemed more curious than anything. He had certainly lost the sneer that he had had in the hallway. I liked to think that I had punched it right off his face, but I might have been overestimating myself. He was a God, after all, capable of taking a far greater punch than I could manage. Still, it mollified me.
Mobius nudged my shoulder, drawing my eyes away from Loki to look at him. He stooped a little lower to whisper right into my ear.
"This time, you stick with your team. No wandering off."
There was another wild and intoxicating shock which ran through me, when his breath tickled my cheek and I felt him so close.
"If I'm not mistaken, B-15 is in charge," I said. "I don't take orders from you, Mobius."
"I mean it." He was not smiling, not teasing like he normally was. "This Variant is dangerous, Mil. You gotta promise me."
"I thought we agreed you would never believe me even if I promised, old man."
His eyes flicked between mine. "Maybe I need to hear it anyway."
Behind me, Hunter B-15 cut through the circle and stood at its head, directly on my left. I found myself unable to look away from Mobius, though, somewhat thrown by the intensity of his stare and that he would not drop it like he usually would. I swallowed, nodding at him, but his hand grasped my arm and stopped me from turning away fully from him.
"Please, Mila," he said. "I need to know."
"I promise," I said. "What about you?"
His hand had still not left my arm. "What about me?"
"Can you promise me you'll be careful? You won't run off either?"
Finally, he smiled. "I promise. Besides, I already told you," he said. "You're stuck with me."
Slowly, his hand loosened its hold, though it seemed to linger and I thought, again, that it was not allowed, that he had never touched the Hunters beyond a pat on the shoulder or a handshake, that he had otherwise kept things brief and professional. If the guidebooks and rulebooks floated into my mind then, I could not see them. I was fixated upon the crinkled skin of his eyes locked in a smile and the warmth of his hand bleeding through the sleeve of my coat and his kindness, his caring nature, always looking out for others more than himself.
I dragged my eyes across the room, finding Loki. It unsettled me that Mobius was sticking his neck out for this Variant, who grinned as he noticed me. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the old spot on my lip where the cut had been, the cut that he had given me from a well-aimed hit. It was almost entirely healed.
"All right," B-15 called out. "Listen up and listen good. Roxxcart is a vast superstore common to the era. It consists of a series of sprawling sections, including a large warehouse. This warehouse is being used by civilians as a shelter tryin' to ride out the storm. Remember, this is a Class Ten apocalypse. While the Variant shouldn't know we're coming, he could be hiding anywhere and should be considered hostile."
Although she had not paused, her gaze slid toward Loki.
"So stay alert," she continued. "Every time there is an attack, the Variant steals a reset charge. He's planning something. We just don't know what. So keep an eye out for the missing charges, and if you see a Loki, prune it."
"The bad Loki, preferably," Loki piped up.
"Is there a difference?" B-15 spat.
"Yes, a rather glaring one," Loki said. "You see, I possess many admirable traits, that you lowly –…"
Mobius interrupted, "Nope, nope. We're leaving. If he starts one of his speeches, we'll be here all night."
x
Blistering gusts of wind dragged broken carts across the parking-lot in a grind of metal shrieking against the ground, muted in the torrential rainfall that battered us. The asphalt was so soaked that it seemed like an oil slick beneath us, as if we might sink through and drown. Puddles glinted red and pink from flickering, malfunctioning signs overhead, soon torn off in a vicious wind that stripped wires from telephone poles and brought crackling bursts of electricity across the bleak purplish-blue skies overhead.
Up ahead, a hologram for the superstore attempted to greet us in a bleating flash of light, but it too was breaking apart, pixel by pixel. Within seconds, I was drenched from a cold, needling rain that spiked against my cheek and hurt in its severity. Branches, torn from trees and dropped into this parking-lot, scraped across the asphalt and caught against my boot. I shook them off, following B-15 and V-63 toward the storefront.
Mobius was behind me. Loki trailed beside him, apparently rather unconcerned by the storm which roared and bucked around him.
Inside, the superstore was grim and strewn with aisles already scavenged or knocked over. I squeezed out my dripping sleeves, feeling a familiar ache bloom in my right elbow which made me rub tenderly at it, hoping for some relief if I could only warm myself. B-15 moved to stand beside me, her eyes scanning the aisles as if she might peer through them and find the Variant. She sighed, turning to me. She noticed I held my arm against me.
"Are you all right?"
"It's the cold," Mobius said. "She broke her arm a long time ago. Gets this weird pain there when it's cold and wet out."
Surprised that he had remembered such a minor detail, I nodded at B-15. "It's nothing," I told her. "Really."
Then, I felt a sudden rush of warmth flood from my scalp through to my boots, like I had wandered beneath a fan blowing a comforting wave of hot air against me. It was accompanied by a simmering green light that left me no longer in a sopping raincoat and uniform, but rather perfectly dried off. B-15 had jolted at that green light and looked around, perhaps mistaking it for the Variant's influence.
Instead, she found only Loki, standing to the side of the Minutemen in clothes just as dry as mine. The green light fluttered and died in the palm of his outstretched hand. He had used magic, a feat that I had not witnessed before in him, so that it left me a little speechless.
Mobius moved toward him, his face wrought with suspicion. "Why'd you do that?"
Loki rolled his eyes to look at him. "I thought it a gesture of good will toward Agent Malloy given our rather unfortunate introduction earlier."
I was not sure that I trusted what he said, but I strode forward all the same. "Thank you, Loki."
The lights overhead flickered. Some bulbs burst, dropping shards into the aisles. Civilians screamed. The Minutemen remained in place, though their hands twitched toward their batons. It was not lost on B-15, who began ordering the teams into different sections. Mobius moved toward the Green House, announcing it aloud, but B-15 blocked him.
"You go with D-90. Loki stays with me."
"What are you talking about? He's under my supervision," Mobius said.
"This is my field op, Mobius," B-15 replied. "If he's not a threat, then –…"
"Of course he's a threat!" Mobius ran his hands across his face. "Do you not remember the Time Theater? That's why I want him with me."
"B-15, I can monitor him," I suggested.
"No. I'm running this op and I'm telling you how this is gonna go. Malloy, you're with V-63. Mobius, you're with D-90. Is that clear?"
Mobius pinched the bridge of his nose, turning around once before swiftly rounding on B-15. "Really –…"
"Mobius," B-15 said, "you are more than welcome to go back to the TVA and litigate with Renslayer, but right now…"
"We're here, we're not going back! The Variant is here."
"It's fine, it's fine," Loki cut in. "You can trust me. I understand I have to earn that, so, I will."
Mobius stared at him. "Why is that the people you can't trust are always saying 'Trust me'?"
"Mobius," I called to him. "We don't have time for this."
He ground his jaw. "Fine. Okay," he grumbled. He looked at B-15. "Try to hang on to your Time Collar this time."
From where she stood in an aisle nearby, V-63 summoned me with a curt whistle. Her Minutemen were already in formation. I hesitated, looking at Mobius. He offered me a feeble smile, but his shoulders were slumped, his posture resigned. B-15 was right. She had been placed at the head of this mission. He would not begrudge her that much, which was what forced him to nod and turn, breaking off to join D-90 in the shelter.
I followed suit, jogging toward V-63. She signalled for her Minutemen to fall into line behind her. I was at the end, taking the steps to keep up with them but finding myself glancing back at where Mobius had been.
The neon sign outside was hit by falling debris. It shut off the last flicker of light that illuminated the entrance, plunging it into darkness.
x
Shattered glass crunched beneath my boots. Screens lined the walls, flashing brutal images of crumbling buildings and dented cars washed away in the storm, smashed and crushed and spat out again in the churning foam of tidal waves. What few lights remained crackled and buzzed overhead, pouring fragile whitish light onto us, hardening the lines of the armour strapped to the Minutemen.
The ambush came from the front.
One solid knock of a shelf thrown against V-63 was all that it took to devolve into the Minutemen fighting at some phantom threat ahead of us. In that swirl of sound, I glimpsed a flash of green, but it was so quick that I could not tell where it came from. It was like a firefly darting around, until it seemed to pass between the entire line of Minutemen ahead of me, all of them dropping, collapsing hard against the ground where I lost sight of their faces until the televisions sputtered to life once more and showed their eyes closed, their mouths falling apart in slack-jawed wonder.
I was surrounded by them, as if the circle that had been around me in the locker-room now lay at my feet.
I saw V-63 weakly pull herself forward, scraping her elbows in an effort to crawl away from the fallen bodies. I rushed toward her, stooping to help her. I touched her arm and felt her skin, warm and soft. Her armour had broken off, thrown aside in some imagined, wild fight that I had barely even understood was truly happening until it had ended. I was afraid, unaware of how my hands trembled until I held V-63.
She lifted her head, a trickle of blood pooling at her cheek. She tried to grip my wrist, mumbling something incoherent. I leaned closer, trying to make out her slurred words.
She said, "You lose."
Pain burst from my cheek. I was thrown sideways, realising that she had struck me only when she was already climbing on top of me and I found myself taking another hit. On the next swing, I dodged, but only barely. It was yet another fight that I had found myself in, without much preparation. I tried to roll her off, but she dug her thighs at either side of my ribs and held me, smashing her forehead against mine. I blinked through tidal waves like those that I had seen on the screens, gushing toward me, lapping and overwhelming me, swallowing me. Her eyes flashed green, that same green which had floated in front of me earlier. I opened my mouth.
Out came a trickle of blood but nothing else, because her hand latched around my throat and clenched tight.
xxxxxxx
There was a cool breeze tickling my throat. She was holding my hand, brushing her thumb across my knuckles. Her other hand slipped behind my hair and cradled my nape, pulling me close. I heard her laughter and a faint, muted sound from afar, deliciously quiet, unimportant, because we were stood together. It was so wonderfully warm, and she tilted back my head to look up at her, smiling all the while. She leaned forward, lips close against mine, daring to touch but not quite. She would ask me a question, I could tell, plucking the sounds from her before she could even form them, because I knew her so well and always had.
"Where are the Timekeepers?"
It was not what she was meant to ask and it slit through me, jarring. The breeze faltered, the colours faded around me. I heard that muted sound, now loud and tinny and distractingly close. Her hand, which had held my nape so softly, gripped my hair and yanked my head back and her lips were no longer inviting. She was slipping away from me.
"You're not meant to be here," I said.
"I'm not meant to be anywhere, thanks to you," she spat.
"You're not meant to be here," I said again. "You're meant to be –…"
xxxxxxx
Falling backward, I banged my skull against a wall and found myself in another aisle. I reached for my throat, then touched my nape. It felt as if our hands would meet, mine and hers, in that foreign half-world that was flooding back to me more and more. I tried to stand and shuddered back to the ground, finding my legs too shaky, my boots slopping from me like liquid even though I saw that they were still firmly laced to my feet.
I felt myself turning, thrown upside-down and swirling. I was nauseated, choking on the bluish-neon light which blinked ahead of me. On my left, I heard a sudden thumping of boots, a whole chorus. I was crowded by Minutemen, all of whom were quickly shoved aside by a familiar face, the only face that I could have known then, because it was the same face which should have been in that other world, that strange half-dream, in which it had always been meant to be –…
I looked up at him and asked, "Mobius?"
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