When Loki is finally allowed rest, he is taken to a small, sparsely furnished bedchamber. It contains a soft bed, a moderately sized dresser, a small bookshelf with a selection of reading material, and an end table on which stands a small lamp, in addition to the light mounted on the ceiling. A small bathroom is in a separate room barely larger than a closet, with a shower, toilet, and sink. He takes the time to wash and then lays down on the bed and closes his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts from earlier in the day. He killed her. His actions led to the deaths of everyone who's ever cared about him. He hopes he will fall asleep soon so he can find relief from his own emotions. He drapes his arm over his eyes, hoping the darkness will ease him into sleep.
There is a soft knock on the door and then it starts to open. He doesn't bother to uncover his eyes until he hears the squeak of cart wheels and light footsteps. He lifts his arm off his eyes, above his head. There is a someone bringing in something steaming in a bowl.
"Your supper," the person says. They're short and slender, their head shaved bald. Loki doesn't know what to think of them, but they gesture for him to sit up and he does. The food in the bowl is an unappetizing shade of grey. It doesn't seem to have a smell.
"What is it?" Loki asks, slightly worried by the lack of information he has about whatever it is he's supposed to be eating.
"It's a nutritional paste created specifically for your species. It should sustain you."
"What does it taste like?"
The person shrugs, "I don't know. I'm not what you are. So I haven't tried it."
He leans forward and picks up the spoon, the porridge-consistency goop sliding from it, dropping back into the bowl with a plop, "I...don't know if I can eat it."
"It's all I have for you. Variants aren't given luxuries. Well, Variants usually don't live this long. So you're really the first one I've brought it to."
Loki nods, quiet, "Ah. I see."
The person gestures to the foot of the bed, "May I sit a minute?"
"Why?"
"I've never been this close to a Variant before."
"Ah."
They fiddle with the edge of their tunic, "This isn't the only thing I deliver. I deliver the file films, too. I cut them together out of the sections of a life they want to see."
Loki shifts uncomfortably, "Oh."
"So I've seen what he had from you. Did you see it, too?"
"Yes. He told me what happened. I killed her. All of them, eventually."
They tilt their head, "That's not really very fair, is it?"
"Why not? I told the monster to take the stairs to the left."
The person nods, "Well, yes, but why was the monster there to begin with?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want me to tell you?"
"You watched the rest of the strip?"
The person on the end of the bed shrugs, "Yes. To find the right place, we're given timestamps and descriptions. But sometimes, sometimes a life is more interesting than just a clip and those of us in the records room will watch more than we're supposed to. Sometimes we even seek out other lives to fill in the gaps."
Loki sighs, "Please, yes. Tell me."
"It was after an Infinity Stone. The Aether. Reality. It came to Asgard in the body of a woman brought by a prince. Her lover. And it drew the monster to it."
Loki stares at his hands, "It would have still been there, but if I hadn't told it where to go..."
"They would have intervened, reset the timeline, and let it happen anyway."
He scoffs, "The sacred flow of time."
The person sitting beside him shrugs, "That's what they say, but..."
"Oh?"
"None of us can meddle. We were made to maintain it. This is the way things should be. But those of us who deliver record reels...we wonder. Always. What would life look like if we weren't here at all?"
Loki shrugs, "Well maybe my entire life wouldn't be a setup to a brutal death for myself and nearly everyone I've ever cared about. My...father...he didn't...doesn't? -die horribly. He just...dies."
The person looks over at Loki and offers him their hand, "If it's any comfort to you...your mother died protecting the young woman who carried the Aether from the brutality of the monsters who sought it."
"And Thor? What of him? My throat's crushed, neck snapped, and he lays down over me before everything explodes. How is that death justified?"
They shake their head, "I don't know. I never looked at his file. But I knew from the way we were told to cut together scenes from your life that there was a very specific narrative being told. And when one of the others returned from making a delivery and said they'd heard Mobius yelling about someone having killed their mother...we all knew. And we knew it was cruelty to frame this in such a way."
"And you decided to tell me?" Loki asks, noticing the hand extended and cautiously taking it.
They nod, "We weren't all in agreement. But here...we are the flow of time. The might not like us speaking to Variants, but...we can't step outside what should be because we are the truth of what is. So we decided on this small mercy. She did die because of the timing of when the monster came along. But that she was there to do so was no fault of your own." They squeeze his hand and stand, letting go, "I should be going. Undoubtedly, there will be some consequence for me. But...even if I'm culled, it's worth the kindness." They turn away and walk quickly from the room.
Loki turns his attention to the paste in the bowl and prods it with the spoon. It is still hot. He closes his eyes and takes a bite, trying to imagine it isn't a grey glob in a plastic bowl and is instead something that at least makes him feel as though he has some shred of dignity or worth. It has nearly no taste, but at least its consistency isn't offensive. He forces himself to finish it, sets the bowl aside, and curls up on his side in bed.
It wasn't his fault. At least not entirely. And knowing this, he is able to at least quiet Mobius' voice ringing in his memory about his purpose being only to cause suffering long enough he is able to drop off into what he hopes will be a deep, long, dreamless sleep.