Note:
This is technically a sequel to Ain't Misbehavin', though it isn't necessary to read that first.
I'd expected to finish this story months ago. You should know part of the reason I didn't is the deep depression I fell into over the state of Texas's latest assault on women's rights. If you'd like to help fight the good fight there, see the links I've included in the postscript.
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The two gods crouch in what may once have been a funhouse tunnel as an unnatural cacophony, like a cross between a hurricane and a wailing voice, rushes a few feet over their heads. Their confidence in their divine power flees completely as they huddle in the face of a being so cosmic, they can barely even comprehend its nature. Round, quavering eyes, the eyes of hunted animals, lock onto each other.
When the howl at last reverses course and begins to subside, the masculine figure pokes his head out of the rubble like a shy groundhog and watches an angry purple cloud recede into the horizon. He rejoins the feminine figure deeper in the relative safety of the tunnel.
"Well, I'm glad we went with your plan," says Loki.
"It almost worked," Sylvie shoots back. "It would have worked if you hadn't done precisely what I told you not to do."
"I saved our lives. You're welcome, by the way."
"We were almost into its mind before you broke the link to cast your little..." She waves her arms in an approximation of illusion projection, beginning to work up a head of steam.
"At least we still have that." He points at her belt, indicating the Tempad Mobius had left with them when he returned to the TVA. Plenty more where I'm going, he had said.
"What?" Her hand slips protectively over the device. "No. We're going back."
"Sylvie. That's suicide."
Sylvie slides her back down the curvature of the wall and curls up at the bottom. "What are we going to do then?"
"I don't know."
"For a while, you had me convinced that failure isn't what makes a Loki a Loki." The words are bitter, but her tone remains numb.
He takes a deep breath and improvises, "Let's ask Mobius. Maybe he'll have an idea."
"Ask Mobius?"
"I've seen them access the TVA network in the field. I'm sure I can get a message to him."
"How come I never discovered this?"
He throws his hands up. "Who can say? Maybe you just weren't looking for it. Do you have a better plan?"
Sylvie assesses him through narrowed eyes, clearly not wanting to admit she doesn't. "Just know that if you open a time portal, I will kick your ass."
He glares at her as she hands the Tempad over, but only says, "Fair enough."
As he taps and swipes, he explains, "When I asked how interdimensional transfers were possible, Mobius just told me to stop snooping. My belief is that they open pinhole portals, just big enough to- Ah, good. Renslayer's credentials are still active. Told you you weren't the only tech-savvy one."
Loki sits next to her, resting the Tempad on his knees to more easily scan through the system. Within minutes, Sylvie's reverie is broken by a sharp intake of breath.
"What is it? What did you find?"
When she doesn't immediately get an answer, she grabs his shoulder. "Mobius was captured."
"That's too bad."
"Didn't you hear me? Mobius failed. They caught him."
"If he'd asked me, I would have told him he didn't have much chance in the first place. Don't look at me like that! Mobius is a big boy. He knew the risks."
"We have to get to him while there's still time."
"Time for what?" She meets his uncomprehending stare. "Now that is the maddest scheme you've come up with yet. You don't know where he is. You don't know how much time has passed there. You don't even know if he's still-"
"Don't. I'm warning you."
She pulls back, once again eyeing him with suspicion. If he's honest, he's a bit shocked by his outburst too, but why start being honest about such things now? He rushes on. "I know exactly how much time has passed, because these are locked to the passage of time in the TVA. And I can find the dungeons when I find their maps."
"Cell block. Not dungeons." As Loki purses his lips, trying to think of a suitably scathing retort, her face suddenly lights up. "But maybe you're not entirely mad. Computers. Yeah." She snatches away the Tempad.
"What are you looking for?"
"Schematics." Sylvie hums under her breath for a few seconds before elaborating. "When I was at the TVA, it looked like the entire city was just hanging in a void. Self-contained, lìke a spaceship. I never saw anyone outside a building or a vehicle."
It took a moment to realize she expected confirmation. "That was my impression as well."
"So if there's no magic there, they must have life support systems, right? Systems controlled by a computer."
"Ye-es." A queasy knot was forming in Loki's stomach. Surely she couldn't be taking this where he-
"If we can't reach whoever is behind Alioth, at least we can cripple them. Who knows? An amputation this big might even lure the bastard out of hiding."
"You can't be talking about killing everyone in the TVA."
"Why not?"
For one of the few times in his life, Loki is speechless. He watches her, absorbed in her research, monomaniacally focused on the mission at hand. At last he sputters, "You can't destroy a civilization!"
"That's rich, coming from the would-be doom of Jotunheim." Sylvie glances at him out of the corner of her eye and snorts. "Didn't think I knew about that, huh? Jotunheim was one of the apocalypses I used to hide in. I think that's the plural of apocalypse, anyway. I never checked."
"Apocalypse." He can barely feel his limbs.
"Apocalypse. Did you ever even bother to learn how much damage you'd done? We're our father's children, Loki, not our mother's. We do what needs to be done."
"You said you don't remember our parents."
"I lied."
"About a few things, apparently. Remember when you said Mobius wasn't so bad?"
"And you said he wasn't so good."
"I lied."
"Not about that, you didn't. He has eons of destroying people, destroying entire timelines, under that beige belt, just like all of them."
He grabs at the device in her hands and she pulls it away. They both scramble to their feet, Sylvie's hand on the hilt of her sword. Loki unconsciously mirrors her defensive stance.
"You owe me this!" she spits. "My original plan would have succeeded if it wasn't for you."
"Your original plan would have gotten you pruned with no way back if it wasn't for me. You would have found out the Timekeepers are worthless illusions and been cornered up there."
"You didn't know that!"
"And I'm not the one who forgot to recharge my exit strategy before charging into the TVA!"
They glare at each other with blood-suffused cheeks, huffing. Loki sucks in an extravagantly patient breath and holds his hands up in the universal sign of mea culpa. "Can we at least talk about this?"
"Fine, let's talk. Do you know how long I've been running and hiding from the TVA, trying to find some way to blow up the whole infernal engine?"
"No, but I bet you're about to tell me."
"I'm not sure. Tends to happen when your life is jumping from one dying world to the next. But the best I can tell, it's been a hundred years and change."
"That's all? You're just a baby!"
"I'm not the one acting like a baby!"
The mea culpa hands are back. "All right, poor choice of words." He wets his lips. "I've been where you've been, Sylvie. I've felt what you've felt. I know how hard it is to turn your back on revenge, but these people are like us."
Her expression has calmed... by becoming devoid of feeling. Remote. Rote. "I should have known we'd never see this the same way. Not with him around."
"Him?"
"Your boyfriend. Mobius M. Mobius, or whatever his name really is."
An incredulous laugh. "What are you going on about?"
"Please. I would have to be blind to not see how he looks at you."
His first instinct is denial, but before he can give it voice, a memory comes rushing back. He was too preoccupied to give it any thought at the time, but Mobius's rage and disappointment over the belief that he had romantically linked himself to Sylvie had seemed quite a bit more than... friendly. Sylvie's triumphant smirk as she catches his hesitation incinerates the thought in a bright flare of annoyance. "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't just about Mobius. None of them deserve destruction." He can't resist adding, "Well, maybe a few."
"A version of me who could love the TVA. We really are nothing at all alike, are we?"
His stomach churns at the contempt in her eyes. What makes him even sicker is the unswerving, undoubting single-mindedness- a look his mirror has made him old frenemies with. Loki feels something lurch inside him as he changes tacks. "OK. Let's say I'm willing to help you with this. What would I be doing?"
"Nothing. You would only get in my way."
"Then what's your brilliant scheme? No enchantments, no illusions. You don't even know what you're looking for. Are you planning to stab your way through the entire city until you find a room with Life Support in big red letters over the door?"
Sylvie pats the box on her hip. "Whatever coordinates your favorite fascist programmed in, it's bound to be someplace out of the way. So I'll use an old-fashioned illusion. Steal a uniform, make my way to that judge and force her to open a portal directly to where I need to to be." Her chin lifts to brace against a challenge.
Loki folds his arms. "And you believe Renslayer will help you destroy her entire world."
"Yes, I do. That woman will do anything to save her own skin, which I can almost respect."
"Your plan needs one thing: a lookout. And I already have a uniform."
"Which is filthy."
A ribbon of green cascades down his body so fast it could almost be missed, leaving behind crisp spotless linen and pressed khaki. "Not anymore."
She takes in the sight with a pensive air.
"I want to help you, Sylvie." It's true, if not in quite the way she thinks. "Please. Just let me help you."
"You do what I say this time. Can you handle that?"
"I can."
Slowly, her hand migrates from the sword hilt to the Tempad. His own hands drop to his sides as he moves to stand next to her, both watching the cubic time portal pop into existence as if by magic (he still finds it hard to believe it's not) and elongate into a doorway that sheds a pale yellow glow down the length of their burrow.
Sylvie hesitates. With shocking speed, she spins and slashes her sword down behind her, narrowly missing an evasive Loki. Beside her, his illusory duplicate flickers out.
Loki frees his own sword from its sheath in time to parry the next slash. "Stop! The last thing I want is to fight you."
"I bet. You just want to steal from me. Stab me in the back, literally!"
They trade a few more blows before Loki manages to drive the point of her blade into the ground, leaning his weight in to trap it. "You may not understand now, but you will. You have to."
"Don't tell me what I have to do," she snarls, twisting free of the trap. Sylvie's eyes dart furtively to the side, unable to take in the portal behind her, unwilling to turn her head. She yelps as a spray of fireworks springs from his palm in the direction of her face, instinctively lifting her hands to shield herself. The Tempad shoots from her distracted grip.
When she opens her eyes, she sees a new time portal pulsing in front of her and Loki disappearing through it, holding the precious gadget that is their only escape from purgatory. She throws herself after it without a thought... and emerges still in the tunnel. The illusion vanishes as a strong hand latches on and continues her pell-mell forward momentum, prodded along by the flat of a sword in her back. She sprawls onto her face, weapon skittering off into the darkness.
Loki leaps on her. "Sylvie, please. I don't want to hurt-"
Sylvie drives him back with a furious elbow, then kicks him off of her. They find themselves squaring off once again, both weaponless now. He can feel anger welling up over his concern. That hurt, goddamnit. Was this what it felt like to be Thor? He thrusts out both hands and an unseen force drags her several feet back. An unseen force that she quickly breaks free of, green phosphorescence beginning to stain her fingertips. Yeah. He definitely needs to work on his magic.
"You owe me," Sylvie hisses. "You all do!"
Loki races for the portal. His vision is swallowed up by the perversely soothing buttery light wall that is apparently what defying the known laws of time and space looks like. Just as he begins to feel the tingle of transport on his skin, a strangled shriek issues from behind him, followed by a blast of power like nothing he's ever felt before. It's so cold it's hot, burning, and it slams into his back with enough force to lift him from his feet and propel him the rest of the way through.
The edge of the Tempad digs into his shoulder as it drops instantly from its spatial compression hidey-hole and becomes trapped between his body and the floor. He manages to punch the button closing off pursuit before going limp.
It's clear that he's in a dimly lit room, face pressed into a cool, smooth, faintly antiseptic floor. The only sound is the persistent low hum of the TVA, like being alone in an interrogation room. Lifting his head reveals that he is not, in fact, in an interrogaton room, but an empty conference room. His conjured sheath is gone too; not that a blade would do him much good. Even Sylvie wouldn't cut any throats here. Too much blood. He gingerly pulls himself into a chair and slumps.
Sylvie was supposed to be special. She was supposed to be the best of them. If the best his kind have to offer can't even be trusted not to- Mobius!The mere neural echo of the name snaps him out of his self-pity. If all that arguing and pleading has cost him... A surge of panic drives Loki to his feet, scouring the room for weapons. It doesn't appear to have been used in some time. There's nothing on the conference table except a smattering of dust and the only visible technology is a terminal on the wall, somehow even more archaic-looking than the ones he's seen elsewhere.
Loki opens the door just far enough to peek out. The hallway is almost as dimly lit as the room; devoid of any sound of activity. Sylvie was right, then. He was someplace isolated. But where? He withdraws and, acting on a hunch, enters 'Where am I' into the Tempad's search box. Yes! His access was far too limited to view maps before, but with Renslayer's credentials, the TVA spreads out before him in graphic form, complete with a red star marking his location.
He quickly realizes he's in the same building where he lived and worked during his brief stint as a "freelancer". That's both good and bad. This is the one part of the city he has any first-hand familiarity with, but he's also more likely to be recognized as someone who doesn't belong. One more reason it could work to his advantage: an area that is indeed labeled "Prisoner Cells" (not "Dungeons") is no more than a few floors above.
Shortly, a Minuteman comes upon an analyst leaning against the waĺl in a sparsely traveled hallway, broad back turned, absorbed in the screen in his hands. "Are you lost?" asks the Minuteman. When the analyst only mumbles something in reply, he moves closer. "Look, you shouldn't really-"
Loki reaches back and snatches the rod- the multiweapon, had they called it?- with nimble fingers. He holds the glowing end an inch from the man's face. "I need to borrow a few things." Then, as an afterthought, "Sorry."
He feels slightly more secure entering the elevator in his new uniform. He would much prefer to be wrapped in a glamor, but at least the helmet helps to obscure him and people instinctively defer to authority. An old-fashioned illusion. This is where the old Loki would have started getting cocky and reckless. A brand spanking new Loki stepped out of the Void. Probably. It's not like he locked a naked Minuteman in a closet. He left his old clothes behind.
The doors open to bring him face to face with Casey. The two stare at each other, mouths agape. "You-" Casey exhales. The rest of whatever he was planning to say is cut off when Loki yanks him into the elevator by his tie and frantically hammers on the Door Close button.
"They promoted you?!" Casey sputters.
Hmmm. "Yes. Yes, they promoted me. I said I would prove myself, didn't I?"
"Man. I need to go back over the handbook. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Loki feels his heartrate leveling off. "This is my first day. Could you help me find the security hub?"
"Uhhhhh..."
"Please?" He flashes his most unctuous grin.
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An escort from Casey shaved several minutes off of the route he had been planning to take. It was worth the risk. Every minute matters until it doesn't, and that, he simply refuses to think about. Now, standing alone outside the security hub, he has to consider how to get past the guards between him and the cell block. He's figured out that a ring above the handle of the multiweapon changes the color of its tip. Yellow definitely means "prune"; what functions the other colors indicate remains a mystery. He doesn't want to unduly harm anyone. It's not these people's fault they were literally remade in the TVA's image, but remade they were, and they won't hesitate to do him harm.
In his mind's eye, something tempting glints out from faded memories of being marched through the bullpen. He grips the weapon's handle and lets himself in a side door. Behind the bullpen, Loki reaches through a small dispensary window and plucks out a handful of Time Twisters, followed by a controller. That illicit thrill of mischief, too long missing, forces him to smother a wholly inappropriate smile as he slips past a locker room and passes an oblivious Minuteman in the hall.
His joy disappears in an emerald puff as he realizes where he is: the one place he most intimately associates with the TVA. The interrogation rooms. A glance at a newly updated Where Am I confirms that these are the cells. The inconsistency gnaws at his stomach lining, but if they're keeping Mobius anywhere, it must be here. It has to be.
He ducks into the alcove leading to a room as footsteps approach from beyond the bend of the long, curving hallway. There is no plan, only desperate reaction. He grabs the helmeted figure by the throat and slams it against the alcove wall, holding up his multiweapon. There's a moment of mutual shock. He knows this one. This one knows him. Then Loki's shock yields to something more important.
"Where is Mobius?"
"How the hell-"
Loki's grip tightens until the man's face turns red. "I know you have him." His voice lowers to a threatening growl as he moves the orb of pruning energy closer. "Where. Is. He."
The man's eyes grow wide as, for the first time, he genuinely fears Loki Laufeyson. Loki feels a guilty twinge of pleasure and loosens his grip a bit. "In a cooler," his captive chokes out.
"A what?"
"A... a wall cooler. In block eight."
"Wall-" One of the many unsolved mysteries of this place. Each of the rooms he had been held in had numbers along a single wall, stenciled on the baseboard. "You don't mean to tell me you actually put him in the wall?" The expression he gets in return says everything. Still, a bit of tension escapes his body. At least he knows Mobius is alive. "Which cooler? Give me a number."
"Two."
Loki lifts a Time Twister to the man's neck and watches it coil around like an anaconda. Sending him several hours back should buy a little time: ironic that this should be such a scarce resource in a place where most people have nothing but time.
He takes off down the hall at a full sprint, not even noticing if he passes anyone, until he reaches interrogation room #8. Or block 8, as the Minuteman had called it. The two guards posted outside the door suggest this is the right place. Loki flips his multiweapon around to the club end and clears the short flight of stairs in one leap, bringing his makeshift club up under one guard's chin. The other has her own weapon in hand now. He knocks it aside and ducks behind her, letting a Time Twister loop autonomously around her neck. There's no opportunity to use it, though, with that first guard lunging at him.
He blocks and kicks, then swings viciously at the back of the second guard's knees, pitching her forward into the first one. A quick blow to the back of the neck and he's able to get another Twister on, sending them both back to join their comrade.
He practically blows the door off its hinges and doesn't stop until he reaches the numbered wall. There it is: a panel marked "2". This is apparently a cooler. It makes a certain twisted sense. Interrogating a prisoner requires only removing them from a wall slot in the same room. Likely the only reason he didn't end up in one his first day here was that Mobius thought he would only be gone for a few minutes. His rage is building again. Unfortunately, there's no visible means of opening the cooler and no time to search. He prunes the entire panel.
The cubbyhole beyond is wreathed in a crimson that almost burns his retinas, something somehow both fluid and profoundly digital. Staring out from it is a pair of dazed blue eyes. Without hesitation, Loki grabs Mobius's face and plants a kiss on his lips. He senses more than feels the other man stiffen. Impulse satisfied, it suddenly seems like an absurdly melodramatic gesture, even for him. He jerks back and shoves the Tempad into Mobius's hands. "We don't have much time. Send us to prehistoric Asgard."
"I can't. It's-wait!"
Mobius scrambles out of the cubby and taps a command into the Tempad. Panel 1 slides back to reveal an equally dazed woman, sitting cross-legged like a child on a picnic blanket. "Jailbreak, darlin'," he says.
Loki is still grappling with his previous words. "What do you mean, you CAN'T?!"
"I mean this whole floor is shielded. No time portals."
Hunter B15 breaks in as she slides from her cooler. "I could disable it, but not from here."
"Then we're trapped," Loki whispers.
"Not if we can reach the elevator," answers Mobius.
"What are you two waiting for?" Hunter B15 takes the multiweapon from Loki, clicks it over to a violet hue and strides away.
At the top of the stairs, the thunder of far too many boots moving far too quickly to be good news spurs them into a dash in the opposite direction. Two guards appear from the final alcove before the hall terminates in the elevator and B15 leans into a perpendicular thrust to the abdomen. The woman drifts back in comical slow motion, incapable of reacting as her partner takes a clubbing to the elbow. His weapon skates across the floor.
Violet, huh? No more than two days ago, Loki would have been reluctant to get involved. Now the weapon is in his hand almost before he realizes his limbs are moving. He resets it and uses his last two Time Twisters.
Meanwhile, Mobius is frantically hammering the up button. "Please, please, for once in my goddamn life," he mutters. A small squad of Minutemen closes in behind them and his two companions move to intercept. The natural bottleneck of the hallway works in their favor, but anyone who reaches the alcove can flank. Loki cuts off that avenue of attack.
"Mobius!" he shouts from behind a backhand swing.
"I can't make it go any faster!"
"Some time lord!"
They've created a serendipitous firewall of floating, tangled bodies. The hunter wades in, further ensnarling limbs, the club end of her weapon driving down in short, neat strokes. Never has anyone looked so at home. She takes Loki's proffered hand as the bodies abruptly drop to the floor and lets him pull her away from the melee, kicking out at stray attacks.
A few jabs push back more Minutemen as they try to step over their comrades. Loki risks a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see a multiweapon Mobius has acquired at some point make contact with the forehead of an armored figure in the elevator. The soldier blinks out of existence for a split second, then drops.
"Get in!" his friend roars. "GET IN!"
The three of them crowd in around the prone form of the Minuteman, whose eyes are staring and muscles twitching disconcertingly. A group exhale goes around as the doors close and they begin to move.
Loki ventures, "Is he..."
"He'll be fine," Mobius assures him. "Very shortly, in- Ah." A time window pops into view and morphs into a door, more slowly than usual, as they move beyond the previous floor.
They step across the threshold. B15 turns in a full circle, taking in a dizzyingly giant forest with a crisp breeze filtering through the undergrowth. "Prehistory. Not bad. Hard to cause a nexus event with no people around."
"It looks like you found a way to go home after all, Loki." Mobius says it with a shrug and a bemused smile.
"This was his idea?"
"Sure was."
"I'm starting to see why you went to bat for him."
Loki jerks his thumb back over his shoulder at the spot where the door has long since rolled up and winked out. "What did you do to that ruffian?"
"Temporal whiplash," answers Mobius. "He was bounced between temporal states so quickly, it left him stunned and disoriented."
"Why weren't we all using that?"
"Hunter B15 prefers a more hands on approach than I do."
"It's Claudia," the newly named woman corrects. "Sylvie showed me."
"Nice to meet you, Claudia," says Mobius.
"Mm-hmm. Me too." Loki turns. "How many more jumps can we make without recharging?"
"A few. But before we think about doing anything else, we need to find a place to recharge the ol' Delco." An inquisitive dip of the head tells him he hasn't been understood. "Rest."
"Ah, yes. You humans are so fragile." Loki's gaze travels deeper into the woods. "You'll be needing food too." A blast of green energy streaks from his palm past a frozen Mobius. With a squeal, a small furry animal sails up into the air and bounces off a tree trunk.
"A hundred years and change?" muses Mobius. "By frost giant standards, she's a baby."
"I promise you she does not see herself that way."
The trio sit on the banks of a fjord in their shirtsleeves. Claudia caught a fish for her dinner, saying something about being a "lacto-ovo-pollo-pescetarian", leaving Loki and Mobius to split the spit-roasted red meat. While they ate, Loki filled them in on his ordeal with Sylvie. In spite of his flippant replies, Mobius is clearly rattled by the near-extinction event.
"Still, it might help explain her behavior." He grimaces. "Now I kinda regret telling her she was my favorite."
"Now I kinda regret crying in front of her," says Claudia. She looks at Loki with a mix of awe and self-deprecating humor. "So you turned out to be the one who pulled our fat out of the fire. I would never have seen that coming."
"At least I got the two of you out of there."
"What does that means?"
"Well, if anyone can find their own way out of the Void, it's Sylvie. She's the most maddeningly stubborn person I've ever met... and that's coming from me."
Mobius and Loki exchange a conspiratorial glance over the campfire. Loki chooses to break eye contact to examine the ground instead and Claudia tells the top of his head, "At least her plan wouldn't work; not exactly. Every vital area in the TVA is shielded."
"I doubt that would stop Ravonna," says Mobius.
"Maybe. But I also can't see her destroying the one thing she seems to care about."
Mobius looks so dejected that Loki tries to change the subject. "How did you come to need rescuing in the first place? I assume you had a plan?"
"A damn good one. There's a video of Hunter C20 telling what she remembered. I was going to have a techie pull it from backups and play it on every screen in the city. Her execution too, if a camera caught that. I was, uh, intercepted on the way there."
"Then word spread faster than you anticipated."
"No one had a clue I wasn't supposed to be there. Miss Minutes ratted me out." He thrusts out two fingers, one aimed at Loki, the other at Claudia. "Don't trust her."
"Ah, your clock-faced, molasses-flavored Big Brother." Loki clucks his tongue. "You can't trust anyone these days."
Claudia lifts a strand of roasted greens between her thumb and forefinger in a mockery of a toast. "Amen to that." She stuffs the greens in her mouth as Mobius mouths Big metaphor guy.
The demigod leans back against a grassy embankment and lazily stretches his legs. "Odd. Out here in the universe, I always feel like myself again."
Ever inquisitive, Mobius wants to know: "How's that?"
"It's difficult to describe what your realm does to me. It's not just my magic, or even my strength." He conjures a dagger and flips it experimentally. "Sometimes I feel utterly... powerless."
"The place isn't entirely to blame. TVA control tech can have that effect. I bet the worst moments came when you were wearing a Time Twister."
Claudia explains, "With particularly dangerous Variants, we- they- have the option of engaging a motor impulse disruptor on the collar." At his alarmed look, she hastens to add, "A very slight disruption. It doesn't impede normal movement, just any attempt to fight or flee."
"Well, that would have been handy to know a couple of hours ago." His answer is a shrug. He lets the dagger melt away, eyes fixed on the emerald afterglow deep in his palm. "How would you like to know who you were before they took you?" The other man's baffled expression prompts a clarification. "Enchantment."
"She taught you how to do that?"
"I wouldn't say 'taught', but I was doing it with her, on Alioth."
"So you want to take my brain for a test run?"
"I would take it slow. Alioth was too resistant. There was too much pressure, but here, with you-" He shakes his head. "I want to help if I can."
Mobius turns in mute supplication to Claudia, who throws up her hands. "Don't look at me. I thought it was worth the risk, but that's a decision you have to make yourself."
He pops some greens in his mouth and shuffles them around, stalling. Finally, he licks his fingers clean one by one and scoots over to sit immediately opposite Loki. Claudia crosses her legs and settles in for the show.
Loki gingerly places a hand on the side of Mobius's head, explaining, "I need to make physical contact." Maddeningly, the other man seems to find this amusing. He closes his eyes and tries to block it out as a finger of magic reaches out and probes for something to grab ahold of. Unfortunately, he can't say he ever spent much time thinking about what goes on in other people's minds, and a fusillade of unfamiliar impressions stings him. He jerks his hand away as if from something hot.
"That bad, huh?" Mobius sounds like he's only half-joking.
"I just wasn't ready."
"Maybe take it extra slow. You know, start with one finger and work up."
"No, I'm all right." Loki claps his hand back and winces. Without Sylvie acting as a filter, pure foreign consciousness pours over him like molten glass, each image, each sensation, each thought a glint in the stream. What must Sylvie have experienced the first time she tried this? And what could have possessed her to try again, without guidance? The questions trigger his prideful streak. She did try again, and if she can do it, so can he.
He realizes the thoughts washing over him are surface-level. Fighting his natural urge to swim against the current yields a sense of falling into deeper, more placid waters. The more he relaxes, the faster he sinks. And then it happens. A glint catches his mind's eye.
Mobius's eyes drift closed. They open a few moments later to reveal a fleeting green tint. "Why, you magnificent bastard," he whispers. He rests a hand over the one on his face and smiles, lingering on Loki's gaze.
"Um... I'll take first watch," murmurs Claudia. She grabs her armored vest and multiweapon and retreats into the trees. Mobius sighs and, much to Loki's disappointment, drops his hand. "I guess I know now why Ravonna never offered me that drink. That's proof, isn't it? From the beginning, she knew more than any of us."
Loki's annoyance surges so high, his temper is almost loosed. Who the Hel cares about Renslayer? He moves his own hand and turns to look at the shimmering ribbon of sun dipping below the horizon before he can say something he knows from very, very long experience he'll regret. "No doubt."
Mobius leans back, propping himself up on his hands. Only when Loki glances back after a few minutes does he realize the man's eyes are fixed on him, not the sunset. "What?"
The strange little smile he gets in return is indecipherable. Loki lays down with his back to the fire and the final vestige of sunset, his vision swallowed up by the silvery tangle of what he'd once considered his homeland. It's oddly bright here in the primordial soup. He can almost make out individual vines in the billow clinging to a tree trunk. It's loud too. Infinite creatures that have never learned to fear humanoids run, leap, croak, chirp and cry through wilder underbrush than he's ever seen before, anywhere.
He doesn't even hear Mobius approaching from behind until just before the man scoots up to him, spooning their bodies. Now it's Loki's turn to tense up and feel Mobius pull back slightly. He immediately hates himself for it, then hates himself for hating himself. It's not as if he's the one playing games this time. The player cannot be played.
Mobius drapes his suit jacket over them. The analyst must be well aware that frost giants aren't affected by cold, but it doesn't stop him from whispering "Comfy?" as he tucks in the sleeves. And Loki is. Despite his previous lack of awareness that it was even getting cold, his muscles relent one by one to the warmth collecting beneath their shared twill. "She fooled us all, didn't she?" There's a hint of hope in his voice.
"I don't think she did. She told us exactly what she wanted."
Loki sags. That's what he didn't want to hear. If he hadn't convinced them she could do it without...
He feels the tickle of breath on the back of his head as Mobius speaks again. "Don't beat yourself up. If Sylvie is really a monster, she's a monster I created. I guess I'm gonna have to find a way to live with that, eventually."
His head cocks to the side. "You?"
"Well, me and the rest of the TVA."
"Why did you do it?"
He hears a brief sigh, followed by several moments of silence. "I... You know, it felt good, having the mission. We were created to save all of time. It made me feel special."
Special. The word thuds dully in Loki's ears, but all he says is, "Do you suppose there are more like her out there?"
"Doubtful. I was extremely good at my job. You're proof of that." Loki shivers at a sudden puff of warm air just under his ear as Mobius leans in to half-whisper the next words. "I have to admit, I was a bit insulted that you didn't try to seduce me. That was the second thing I thought you'd try."
Loki's eyebrows rise. "Is this something that's happened to you before?"
A self-satisfied chuckle. "You'll never know."
Much to his surprise, Loki finds a chuckle bubbling from his own throat. "We could just stay here, you know. They would never find us." He already knows what the answer will be.
"No, we can't. Someone has to stop them, and not Sylvie's way."
"I can't say apocalypse surfing sounds like much of a plan."
"I have a few ideas." Mobius's grip tightens on his shoulder, then slides off. "Goodnight, Loki."
Rather than return the sentiment, Loki just closes his eyes and shuts it all out. The Universe, the Void, the Sacred Timeline, the Time Variance Authority, the other hims. Everything that isn't cocooned in the boring beige of this makeshift blanket.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
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