Sylvie was used to not being noticed. In fact, she relied on it.

She hid in apocalypses because there was already too much happening for anyone to notice a wayward girl. If the TVA had known enough about her, they could've foiled her plans. Sylvie's survival was built on anonymity.

Still, it was starting to ache. Never being noticed. Never being seen.

You betrayed the only person who tried.

Well it's his fault for miscalculating. If he really saw me, he would've known what was coming.

Plus, Loki certainly wasn't seeing her now, sitting about ten feet away. He and Mobius were wearing some ridiculous silver and gold getup. They looked like a clumsy sun and moon metaphor. Chatting with a couple that seemed straight out of a happy-go-lucky sitcom, the pair was smug, sipping fermented lime-slug mucus out of tall glasses (they probably didn't know that that's what they were drinking.)

What are they doing? Making friends?

Sylvie stared at them, hands folded under her chin, elbows on the small, chunky white table at which she sat. Her outfit of choice, a tailored suit, was all black, as if carved from obsidian. It didn't match the ridiculous metallic theme of the other passengers, but it blended into the floor while her white-blonde hair, thrown into a half-bun, blended with the furniture.

Briefly, Sylvie considered the idea that Loki and Mobius really weren't plotting. Maybe they had given up saving the world and wanted to take a fun vacation before everything went to shit. Wouldn't that be convenient? But it couldn't be the case.

"He's not all bad."
"He's not all good either."

Mobius's moral compass was flawed, deeply, and Sylvie knew this. He didn't operate on right and wrong, he operated on "whatever I need to do to get it done." She operated similarly, but there was one key difference. Mobius still believed he was doing the right thing, believed he had some higher goal, some world to save. No cost was too great for this glorious purpose.

Those kinds of people are even more dangerous. Because they're blinded. They don't consider the personal stakes, don't recognize how those stakes influence their choices.

At least Sylvie knew she was doing it for revenge. I was doing it for revenge, to save others from the same fate. I was doing it for revenge, because if they wanted to erase me, make me invisible, I was going to be the last thing they saw. Right, right, right?

Her train of thought was less comforting than she had hoped. Maybe we did it, this, for the same reason, actually. We had nothing else.

Taking a swig of the amber liquid someone had left at the table, Sylvie wished her time alone all those years hadn't given her such a penchant for self reflection.

Loki and Mobius still hadn't seen her. She was staring at them as if they would somehow feel the force of her gaze and turn to confront her. Too much energy was building up underneath her skin, she needed a fight. Needed to do something other than watch and observe and reflect.

They never noticed her.

The entire two hours they sat there, and she stared at them, and they didn't notice her. At this point Sylvie felt as thought she had memorized their faces. It was burned into her brain, Mobius's ridiculous hairdo and gold adorned ears, Loki's thin silver bracelets and the slope of his nose. She had even picked apart their companions.

The black and gray haired man appeared more intimidating than his partner, but Sylvie knew better. From the way he sat he was clearly trained in combat, but there was a gingerness to his movements, like he didn't believe he deserved anything around him, even the man at his side. He had clawed his way up to whoever he was and couldn't stand to lose it. Talented, but calculated. As long as your opponent is thinking things through, you can outthink them.

The blonde man was the dangerous one, the wildcard. He sat as if he owned everything in the room and everyone in it, his movements were erratic, cheerful eyes bordering on manic. He was softer around the edges than the other man, but he was uncontrolled. It's harder to predict and manipulate an enemy who doesn't know what he's doing and doesn't think he has anything to lose.

Suddenly, the group got up, and Loki and Mobius began guiding the other two out of the lounge. They passed by her only three feet away. Her breath quickened and her hand went to the hilt of her blade under her jacket, but nothing happened. They remained blissfully unaware. Only the blonde man had even briefly glanced over her.

Sylvie swallowed hard as she watched the doors shut behind them with a resounding thud. Her mouth was dry and sour, muscles stiff from not moving. She knew she had to follow them, had to see what they were doing with those men, but she couldn't make herself move.

Invisible, invisible, invisible. And what are you doing all this for now? Are you still acting on revenge?

She had outsmarted them both before, Mobius dozens and dozens of times and Loki in the only way that mattered. I outsmarted myself, I won the ultimate war, and yet here I am. Invisible.

Nothing was fixed, nothing was changed. There were hundreds, thousands more TVAs now than before she killed He Who Remains. Exponentially more victims. Absolutely everything was for nothing. She was for nothing.

Sylvie stood suddenly, feeling the welcome rush of blood to her restless muscles. As she pushed back the heavy chair, it scraped loudly against the glossy floor. People around her turned quickly to look, hoping for something to liven up their night.

A scaly brown humanoid the color of burnt meat had been making his way back from the bar, but he stopped a few paces in front of her when she jumped up.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" he slurred, clearly drunk, his yellow eyes heavy-lidded.

He closed the gap between them and Sylvie saw in an instant that he was reaching out a heavy hand for her shoulder.

The straw that broke the camel's back. I always liked that earth idiom. I liked how it applied to every apocalypse I've seen. There was always one thing that sent it over the edge. I liked to think that I would be the straw that broke the TVA. Maybe, instead, I was the straw that broke everything.

Sylvie decked him.

He fell backwards, crashing into another table. The sound of shattered glass filled the air like music as a dozen champagne flutes cascaded to the ground. More people stood, but no one was stopping the fight. A couple people cheered.

Sylvie's initial victory was brief. The humanoid was heavy, and strong, built like he was made of muscle and nothing else. He was standing again quickly, sneer slashed across his face to reveal mossy teeth. Sylvie sunk into a fighting position, setting her weight back and preparing to swing again.

She was escorted out of the Exclusive Lounge shortly after that.

Quite frankly, she was surprised that she hadn't been ejected from the ship entirely, or arrested. Stumbling down the crimson velvet hallway, still reeling from the hits that her opponent had landed, Sylvie felt as though she was full of poison. Bitter, harsh, acidic secretion coming from her lungs, filling her throat. For a moment she thought she was going to vomit. The ceiling was indistinguishable from the floor, and the flickering sconces made it seem as if everything was spinning.

Invisible, useless, failure. All for nothing. All for nothing. Can't win a simple bar fight.

But something jarred her out of the sickening spiral. Voices. Familiar voices coming from a door to her right.

"-why would that make you touch me?"

It was Loki. Sylvie's heart fell to her feet with surprise and also a dizzying glee. Even in her half-concussed, rage blinded state, she had still found them. She always had the upper hand.

Moving quickly to their door, Sylvie slouched against it in time to hear Mobius's reply.

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

What worked? Why was Mobius touching Loki, did he make some sort of advance or-

"But what if it didn't? What if you ruined everything? What if I had enchanted you?"

Enchantment? Who was Loki enchanting? Why is he so terrified to enchant Mobius? Why did Mobius need to touch him during an enchantment?

Sylvie's mind spun with questions and theories, but there was no time to focus as Mobius replied to Loki, voice muffled but full of anger through the door.

"That didn't happen." Then a pause. "Why are you so angry? If I hadn't done anything we would have been caught."

"Because if I hurt you I'd never forgive myself," Loki shot back, and Sylvie's hand covered her mouth despite herself. She didn't even realize she'd done it until later. When did Loki become so dedicated to this man? Or has he been the whole time, and I just underestimated it?

"You've already hurt me, Loki."

Sylvie held her breath, waiting for Loki's comeback. There was only silence. Heavy, dangerous, silence. Before long, she heard Mobius's footsteps and some muttering about "we should sleep." Eventually, Loki's footsteps followed. Sylvie finally let out the breath she had been holding and shoved herself over so that she sat beside their door, her back against the plush wall.

Loki's enchanting people? Who did he enchant, that couple? What would they need from them? Why would Loki never forgive himself if he hurt Mobius? He's hurt plenty of people plenty of times. Does he… love him?

One thing was for certain, whatever their tenuous bond was, it would make it harder to take them out. Sylvie felt a jolt of surprise as she realized that, eventually, that's what she would have to do. Take them out.

But it's much harder to destroy someone when they have someone else to live for.

Sylvie scanned her mind, remembering Loki's panic on Lamentis after learning that the TVA agents had been variants.

"They don't know that!"

Now, Sylvie was starting to hear his concerned statement as "Mobius doesn't know that."

She also realized why Loki was so terrified of accidentally enchanting Mobius. Sylvie's enchantment, the same technique she had taught Loki, largely relied on accessing a person's particularly emotional (happy, mostly) memories. If Loki enchanted Mobius, he would see a glimpse of who the former analyst had been.

And if Mobius started to learn who he really was, he might not want to come back.

Sylvie sat like that, on the cushy carpet, for at least a half hour. She was trying to figure out why Mobius would touch Loki during an enchantment when, suddenly, their door opened. Sylvie's heart squeezed with adrenaline. It was Mobius.

He had left the room, closing the door behind him without looking. He hadn't noticed Sylvie yet, and was simply standing in the hallway, staring at the door on the opposite wall, identical to the one he had just left. He was breathing heavily, and shakily brought his hands up over his nose and mouth.

Silently, Sylvie stood and moved in front of the door behind him, trembling with anticipation as she waited for him to turn around. He was wearing striped sweatpants and a gray shirt that looked as if they were purchased for a collective 20 dollars. His hair that had been carefully styled before was bedraggled and scruffy, falling below his ears.

He took a few more shaky breaths, then put his hands on his hips and looked up, rolling his neck with his eyes closed and shaking himself off.

What is going on with these two?

"Now why would someone put velvet carpeting on all the walls and floor and ceiling, it's just excessive," he began, speaking softly. And then he turned around. He was pale, frightened, but there was no shock in his expression. "Don't you think, Sylvie?"

He knew I was here. In an instant Sylvie realized that he had noticed her reflection on the brass door handle across from him. Stupid, rookie mistake.

Mobius took a breath, as if to call out to Loki. Sylvie darted forward, covering his mouth with her hand and dragging him down the hallway then around the corner. He didn't resist, stumbling along with her. Smart man.

They stopped in front of two large decorative mirrors, one on either side of the hall so it seemed like their reflections stretched into infinity, hundreds of corridors as far as the eye could see.

Sylvie studied their reflection, herself positioned behind Mobius who was slightly bent over, like someone with a stomach ache. He was making eye contact with her through the mirror, her hand still tightly covering his mouth, the other gripping his shoulder like a vice.

"What are you two planning?" she growled, removing her hand and shifting so that she held him in a headlock.

"Now why would I tell you?" Mobius answered, unnervingly calm.

"Because if you don't, I'll kill you."

"If you kill me, you won't get the information."

"Then I'll get it out of Loki, I have my… ways, you could say," Sylvie said in a voice made of oil, trying to get a rise out of the man in her arms.

"I hardly think he'll be inclined to help you if you've killed me," Mobius answered as if he were speaking to a petulant child. It was infuriating.

"Why, because he's in love with you? Is that really what you think Mobius?" Sylvie pressed, voice oozing with fake sympathy and pity, matching Mobius's condescending tone.

Mobius hesitated, and Sylvie was pleased with the corner she had trapped him in. Any way he replied would be vulnerable, and quickly reveal where he personally stood on the matter, which Sylvie could use to her advantage.

"Y'know, don't get too excited," she continued, "Loki falls in love… easily. You should've seen his face in He Who Remains's chambers, begging me to stop fighting. His eyes were full of tears, so betrayed as my knife dug into his soft, exposed throat…" Sylvie trailed off, mouth only inches from Mobius's ear. "But I'm sure he told you all this," she continued, hoping Loki had remained secretive enough that this information would destabilize Mobius.

Unexpectedly, she actually felt him relax against her slightly, and realized too late that she had miscalculated.

"Oh, he told me that you kissed him in a gross trick," Mobius replied, and Sylvie noticed that there was an undercurrent of anger in his words. He hates me for what I did to Loki. "But he has spent a good chunk of time reminding me over and over again how little he loves you."

Sylvie felt briefly stung, but she ignored it, because Mobius had accidentally shown his cards.

"So you love him?" she whispered mockingly, as if she was a small child learning a particularly interesting fact. Mobius flinched at the word love and Sylvie knew she had won. "Is this what you want, then?" she continued, letting her face and body melt into Loki's. Mobius closed his eyes, entire body tensing, eyebrows scrunching together.

"You want him close to you, promising things to you?" Sylvie spoke in Loki's snappish bass. "Saying I love you too, Mobius. I need you, Mobius. I'm never leaving again."

"You're not going to get to me, I'm not telling you anything," Mobius shot back. Sylvie began to realize what she needed to do.

"Oh Mobius, I wish you could love me for who I am, and not for who you think you can make me. But you just can't resist how desperately you need to fix everything," Sylvie said in Loki's voice, quietly, sadly, pouring all the truth she could muster into her words. She could feel Mobius tense slightly against her, and realized from his reflection that he was holding back a sob. "But I guess there's no other option, I'll just have to enchant you-"

The straw that broke the camel's back.

The second the words left Sylvie's mouth, Mobius's eyes flew open and he dropped, going dead in her arms. She staggered under the unexpected weight, and realized too late that Mobius was using her momentum to flip her over.

Sylvie felt the Loki illusion dissipate. Really, Sylvie wasn't sure what she actually looked like. Probably some sort of frost giant, probably like Loki since they came from the same parents. But for as long as she could remember, Sylvie simply appeared how she felt. It was harder to hold illusions when it didn't match who she was at the moment.

Falling, winded, on her back, Sylvie grunted and immediately rolled to her feet, reaching for her blade. Mobius stood in front of her, now holding a pruning stick. She wasn't sure where he had been hiding it. His face was twisted with a rage she hadn't expected.

The uncontrolled ones are always more dangerous. The ones you can't predict. Mobius isn't held back by the TVA's rule's anymore. He's not held back by anything. Nothing will stop him from completing the mission. And he's even more scared than Loki is of what he could find in his true memories.

"Aww, did Loki teach baby how to fight?" Sylvie taunted, cocking her head, daring him to attack. She just needed to make skin-to-skin contact, and then she would have all the answers she needed so badly. She would have her direction again.

"Unfortunately for you," Mobius spat back with surprising confidence, rubbing his throat where Sylvie had held him. It was dawning on her that she was not facing the same Mobius of her earlier misadventures, nor the Mobius who had helped her in the void. This one was unraveling at the edges, the weight of calamity proving almost too much for him to take. He was lashing out. Sylvie knew how that felt. Unluckily for Mobius, she was doing the same.

"Well then take a swing, big boy," Sylvie hissed, tilting down her chin and looking at him through her lashes. They began to circle each other slowly, reflecting limitlessly in the mirrors in two directions. Black suit and pajamas. Gray and blonde. Mobius didn't budge, but she could see his muscles straining to resist the temptation.

Sylvie had never been patient.

She lunged, feigning left but going right. Mobius fell for it, dodging into her but ducking at the last second. Instead of falling, Sylvie rolled over his shoulder as if he was a tumbling block. She side swiped his back with her blade, tearing the shirt but failing to draw blood. He whirled around, and then ran past her the way they had come.

He's trying to get Loki.

"OH NO YOU DON'T," Sylvie shouted, pouring as much of the feeling of enchanting someone into her words as she could muster. A sick sense of glee tilted through her as the man stumbled to his knees, crying out in agony.

She strode forward quickly until she stood in front of Mobius, who was on his knees. He was wincing as if someone had broken his legs. Sylvie flashed her blade towards his throat, intending to hold it to him so she could move forward and press her fingers to his temple.

But as fast as she could move, Mobius moved at the same speed. Her blade's tip scratched at his throat, but the glowing, crackling tip of his pruning stick was only inches from her chest. He had not been as incapacitated as he pretended. HIs eyes crackled with fury. The expression seemed foreign and terrifying on a man that Sylvie had labeled as warm and kind, almost paternal.

"It's not the first time a Loki has held their blade to my throat," Mobius said through heavy breaths. Sylvie gritted her teeth. At either side of them, a million other Sylvie's and Mobius's had cornered each other, reflecting over and over.

Slowly, Sylvie reached behind her back.

"You're not going to tell Loki I was here," she started saying, and Mobius's face flashed from angry to confused.

"Is that a request or a prediction?"

"A prediction," Sylvie continued, feeling the tempad in her back pocket. "Because you know it would wreck him to know I was following you two, watching you." Mobius was silent, calculating her words as if he could figure out what she was getting at. "I mean, you've seen how I destroyed him, how he questions himself now. Imagine if he knew I had been here."

Sylvie could feel Mobius swallow against her blade. Her finger hovered over a button.

"Do you think he'd be able to continue the mission? You already had to help him through an enchantment just now. I would ruin everything, a wrench thrown in your perfect plan."

Sylvie was largely guessing at what to say based on conversations she had overheard and what she knew about Mobius, but it made her dizzyingly, sickly happy to see how powerfully each word was hitting the man. He looked as if he had been battered by a storm. He looked like he knew she was right.

Either way, she wins. Mobius doesn't tell Loki, and she can keep following them, and Mobius can drive himself mad with paranoia. Mobius tells Loki, and Loki is so unbalanced that their plan falls apart.

It had been poor strategy on her part to try and take on Mobius while he was at his most emotionally volatile, when she was just coming from another fight and hadn't eaten in hours, maybe days. He was too guarded, too unpredictable and violent.

"Just something to think about," Sylvie said with a smile. Mobius's face cracked with panic as he saw the Time Door appear behind her in the reflection of the double mirrors. He lunged forward just as she fell backwards through the portal that closed as soon as she passed through.

She reappeared in the same hallway an hour later. Mobius was gone. Overwhelming pride and satisfaction bubbled in her throat, and Sylvie tilted her head back, cackling. She turned and looked at her reflection, stretching in front of her and behind her into infinity.

He sees me now.

ahh longest sylvie chapter lol hope you guys enjoyed it