Lucky flipped his highlighter into the air, end over end, over and over, catching it perfectly each time as he lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. A little scrap of paper lay on his desk that read, "L-7: 99%".

He'd cheated, of course. And Six had nearly ruined that almost perfect score. She'd seen, all right: she'd looked right at the answers written all over his ankles, opened her mouth like she was about to rat him out… and then didn't. They were still angry at each other as far as he knew, but she hadn't squealed on him, even though she had the perfect opportunity.

Maybe that meant there was hope, yet, to win her back. He could give her an outpouring of emotion so stirring, or a gesture so charming and clever, that she'd…

Oh, what was the use? He hated to admit it… actually he didn't because there was no one to admit it to… but he missed her, badly, pathetically even. He'd thought about her every day since they'd stopped talking to each other, and especially every night.

His dreams were exciting, raucous affairs. Every night he would wade through a boisterous crowd of faceless people dressed in strange costumes. The men wore heavy armor, weapons, and beards, the women had flowing, airy togas and curly hair piled in an updo on top of their heads. They talked and sang strange songs and drank, even though they had no mouths. Lucky would creep through the crowd, feeling small and odd, like a creature that didn't belong there… until he found her. Relief would spread through him like a breath of air when he caught sight of her face, the only face in the crowd. She would smile, her eyes would light up like a flame, she'd run over to him, throw her arms around him, kiss him like she had on fight night, the pungent scent of Everclear burning his nose.

And then he'd wake up without her.

His whole being felt empty and lifeless without Six, even though she was literally on the same floor a few dozen feet away. His studies held no meaning without someone to share his victories with, so why shouldn't he cheat on everything? It made no difference.

Lucky allowed the highlighter to bounce off of his face, missing it on purpose. It plopped to the floor with a tiny thud. The answers to the test were still all over his shins and calves, now smeared beyond recognition, which would have left ink stains on the inside of his pants, if they hadn't been dark brown. A quick scrub in the bathroom cleared everything away, all the painstaking temporary tattoos he'd spent all morning copying on himself gone with a little soap.

There came an unexpected knock at the door. He looked up.

"Um… who is it?" Lucky said, hurriedly drying off his ankles and throwing the ink-stained washcloth down the laundry chute.

"It's us!"

Lucky's heart leapt to his throat. It was Six. And she wasn't alone, which probably meant-

He dashed to the door, then tried to calm himself and act casual as he pressed the button. Six gave him an almost embarrassed smile when he opened the door, with Mobius just behind her. She looked odd, though. Dirty. Filthy, actually.

"Hey Six," said Lucky, "Mobius… what brings you around?"

"You know. Stuff. Things." Mobius sauntered in, leaving Six still facing Lucky.

She coughed nervously and took a step inside, letting the door slide closed behind her.

"Why are you covered in-"

"Dust? Oh. Long story. Long, dumb story."
"I'd like to know," he mumbled, smirking as he picked a fuzzy clump off of her shirt.

"She'll tell you later," said Mobius, squinting around Lucky's bare room. "You haven't broken this place in yet, have you?"

"With what? I don't have any posters or souvenirs, like you."

"Well, you have your winnings from fight night."

"Er, no," said Lucky, cautiously. "I didn't get anything, remember…"

"Sure you did," said Mobius with a grin. He pulled handfuls of shiny things from his pockets, to Lucky's surprise, and dumped them on his bed. "Take your pick."

"How did you…?"

"Evette kept them. You get to choose which one you want the most. Though I have to tell you… one of them is a much better pick than the others."

Three treasures glistened on his bedspread. Lucky approached them almost reverently, like he was afraid to choose the wrong one. Mobius' precious rosary was off limits. He needed that back, of course. Jet's chunk of pure gold was fascinatingly shiny, even in its rough, unshaped form, but something about Libby's Eye of Agamotto was… special. It had a green stone glowing in the middle-one of the coveted, collectable infinity stones everyone wanted-and the craftsmanship of the golden Eye itself looked as delicate and precise as the insides of a watch.

Lucky reached out to touch the Eye of Agamotto and felt a slight tingle rush down his arm, all the way to his chest. It was as if the infinity stone was brimming with a power that called out to his core, that was begging to be used, somehow, even though it was safely neutralized within the confines of the TVA. He wouldn't have a clue what to do with it, even if he was outside in the timeline.

He picked up the Eye and felt its satisfying weight in his hands, still warm from Mobius' pocket.

Mobius nodded. "Good choice. That's a keeper." He put the other two treasures back in his pockets. "Honestly I'm surprised Libby was willing to give it up. She must have another-"

"Mobius…" Six stared at him, eyebrows raised, like she expected him to do something.

Mobius took a seat on Lucky's bed. "Okay, fine," he grumbled, taking a deep breath. "Lucky, I haven't been completely honest with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I fibbed about the rosary. It's not anything special. It's… sort of garbage."

"Oh." Lucky's heart started to twist in knots, confused and hurt all at the same time, but he kept himself from showing it with a mirthless chuckle. "Well, I guess I understand. You couldn't bet a real treasure on me because I might lose, and then you would lose-"

"No. Other people bet more valuable things on you than I did. I told you that junk about the last rosary of the last Pope because I wanted to pump you up. I wasn't trying to be dishonest, but I was. You deserve an apology. I did believe in you, Lucky, and you won fair and square."

Lucky looked away from him, embarrassed, not knowing what to say. It was such a small thing, but Mobius knew how much it had meant to him, somehow.

"I'm sorry about… you know… punching you in the head," Lucky replied bashfully. "I thought Sarge was going to do something so I-"

"I've taken worse hits," Mobius interrupted, though it felt less like an acceptance of an apology and more like a dismissal of the subject. "I can tell you, this has been the most eventful week I've ever had, hands down."

"'Eventful' doesn't mean 'best', though, does it…" Six murmured under her breath.

Mobius waved a hand at her. "Same thing, when you've got a grinding routine day in, day out. A little spice is good. Shakes things up."

"Speaking of shaking things up," said Six, with a wry smirk that Lucky didn't much like, "what did you get on your test, Lucky?"

"An almost perfect score," he said, hiding that shot of venom she'd given him under a layer of bravado. "Ninety nine percent, thank you very much."

"Wow, that's great, Lucky!" said Mobius, instantly making him feel a little guilty. It didn't matter, though. The grade was given, and he sure as hell wasn't taking it back, now.

Six picked up the little piece of paper on his desk and studied it nonchalantly, but he knew that look broiling just below the surface. She was mad… and probably jealous, too.

"What did you get?" he asked.

"Ninety eight."

"Good job, both of you," said Mobius. He did seem to notice something stirring between them, just the flicker of recognition that something was wrong, as Lucky and Six momentarily stared daggers at each other.

Lucky let out a breath and chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe I'll give you some pointers, sometime, Six."

She must have known he was kidding, but Lucky sensed every muscle in Six's body tense up, anyway. She let it go with an eye roll and a sigh.

"I could give you quite a few pointers, too… but you probably wouldn't listen to them," she added, mumbling as she picked up the slip of paper and opened his desk to toss it in the drawer. She paused, then brought out something he'd completely forgotten about until that moment.

"Oh yeah," she said, turning the crumpled, red can around. "This thing." She gave it a cursory sniff, then made a face. "Ew. Smells like whatever was in it went off."

For some reason, Mobius' smile fell instantly. He blanched, staring at the can, like it was a weapon Six was about to kill him with.

"Wait," he said. He snatched the can from Six's hand, studying it closely. "W-where did you find this?" he stammered.

Six and Lucky stared at each other, their animosity forgotten. Mobius looked like he was seeing a ghost.

"The archives," said Lucky.

"Which archives?"
"The film archives."

"Where?"

"I just told-"

"No, I mean where in the room did you find it? Tell me."

Mobius' blue-eyed stare was cold, frightened, and in turn was starting to scare Lucky, too.

"I know I wasn't supposed to go in, Mobius, but-"

"I don't care about that!" Mobius raised his voice, then caught himself and spoke evenly again. "I mean, I just really need you to show me where this came from. Now."

Lucky left quickly, with Six and Mobius following behind him in long strides. As they boarded the elevator, Lucky noticed that Mobius refused to look at anything… his gaze was set firmly in the middle distance, eyes wide. He would swallow every so often. Lucky had never seen Mobius that nervous. In fact, he didn't think Mobius could get that nervous.

They reached the main terminal, then Lucky led them down the hallway to the film archives he'd snuck into days before. Lucky reached up to swipe himself in, but Mobius stopped him.

"Let me do it," he said, adding with a mumble, "one more won't hurt anything."

The place looked exactly the same as before, with a notable exception: the editing machine that Lucky had clogged up had been removed, leaving a space on the floor, a splotch of light gray concrete that had been shielded by the machine.

"Back here," Lucky said, leading them past rows and rows of film rolls hanging from the racks, waiting to be cut to shreds. The vent cover that had been left open was still set off to the side. No one ever went back there, probably, except whoever… or whatever… had crawled into the vent that day.

Mobius crouched down, took his tempad out of his pocket, and used it as a flashlight to peer inside the vent.

"This doesn't make sense," he murmured, "I couldn't have done this. I could fit, though…"

"Mobius, what are you talking about?" asked Six.

"Nothing. Never mind." He then removed his coat and handed it to Lucky, without a word, put his tempad between his teeth with the flashlight shining from the edge, and started to crawl inside.

Lucky and Six gave each other a startled look. "Wait, you're not really going in there?" he said.

Mobius didn't answer, with his mouth full of tempad to light his way. Lucky could do nothing but kneel there and listen to Mobius thumping his way through the metal tunnel. He kept his other ear tuned towards the front of the warehouse, to listen for any archivists entering the front door. Mobius clumsily shuffled along, sometimes hitting a body part against the vent with a loud 'bang' and a muffled "ow". The noises faded to the right, then, when Lucky was afraid Mobius might have gotten lost, or stuck, the shuffling and banging came back the other way, and headed to the left.

"Find anything, Mobius?" Lucky shouted into the vent, which made Six shush him and gently smack his arm.

"You're so loud!" she whispered. "They could probably hear you in the hallway!"

"I'm just making sure he's okay."

After a few more minutes of waiting, Mobius crawled back to the middle part of the vent, and Lucky could clearly hear him struggling and panting. When he came out, he was slightly dusty, just like Six was.

Mobius took the tempad out of his mouth and wiped sweat from his forehead. He sat down with a long, tired sigh, then held up a single brown button. Lucky scooted forward to get a closer look at it, but before he could, Mobius popped it into his front pocket.

"A button," he said, with a cough. "That's all I could find. Somebody has been inside. The vents are mostly clean, but not from being scrubbed out. There was kind of a clearing on the bottom, like someone had scooted through it before. The vent goes straight ahead for about twenty feet, then ends at a 'T'. That vent ends at a bathroom, to the right, and to the left it stretches on for… I don't know how long." He wiped more sweat off his face, looking like he'd just run a few miles. "Whew. Maybe I'm just old, but I don't see how anyone could stand being in there for more than a half hour."

Six shrugged. "You get used to it."

Lucky opened his eyes wide, stunned. "What? You went into the vents, Six? Why?"

The look she gave him was just as startled as his, as her gaze flicked back and forth between Mobius and Lucky. Mobius cringed slightly, as if…

"And you knew?" Lucky asked Mobius, feeling betrayed, somehow. "Was no one going to tell me anything?"

"I was, I promise, it's just…" Six looked away, ashamed. "I didn't want to tell you because I made a big mistake. I went a little nuts, or something, with all the studying. I couldn't handle the pressure. I don't know. I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone."

It seemed as if Six was leaving something out of her story, something big, but she was obviously upset, so he decided to let it be.

"I found this while I was in there, too, Mobius," she continued, producing part of a shoelace out of her pocket to show him.

Mobius took the bit of frayed, brown cord and studied it carefully, then compared it to his own shoelaces. He stared at it a second time, mouth pursed, concentrating, then shook his head and put it into his pocket without a word. Then, he fitted the vent screen back on the opening, screwing it back in as tightly as he could with only his fingers.

"There," he grunted, standing and dusting himself off.

Lucky cleared his throat, trying his best not to sound too obsequious, and failing.
"Mobius, do you think that this would be a case that Miss Minutes would be interested in? Like, do you think she would be really impressed and be sure to make me an agent if-"

"No," Mobius cut him off bluntly, to his surprise. "No, Lucky, you can't tell Miss Minutes about this."

"But why?"

"Listen," he said, putting a hand on Lucky's shoulder, "I want you to keep this close to your chest, okay? This is a secret just between us three."

"But I don't see what the big deal is."

"You don't need to know, right now. Just promise me you won't tell, Lucky."

His spirit fell a little, but the look on Mobius' face let him know he was serious, though Lucky couldn't guess why.

"I promise," he answered.

"Good man," said Mobius, with a single pat on Lucky's shoulder.

The trainees followed Mobius back to the front of the archives. Mobius turned around to address them both.

"Now, I need you two to-"

"Never tell anyone we came in here? Can do," answered Lucky, a little too sarcastically. Mobius made a disgruntled face.

Lucky had a niggling feeling in his gut that Mobius still didn't quite believe that he could keep a secret, especially after Sarge had fingered him as a snitch. But he'd never said he was going to withdraw his recommendations. On the other hand, if Lucky was in Mobius' shoes, then he would have definitely thought twice about letting him be an agent, after knowing that he'd been sneaking in places he shouldn't be, for no good reason… and the whole punching him in the head thing. At least, that's what he had to imagine. It was hard for him to think about how someone more responsible than him would act. Otherwise, he would have been more mature to begin with.

"Do you think maybe I could have the can back?" Lucky asked cautiously. "You know, as a souvenir?"

Both Mobius and Six gave him a raised eyebrow in response. That wasn't going to work. They both saw through the ruse instantly. Lucky rolled his eyes and dropped the subject.

Just before Mobius opened the door for everyone, he gave Six and Lucky a little nod.

"I'll see you two around. Don't be strangers."

Mobius took off power walking down the hallway, and Six and Lucky knew instinctively they should go the other direction.

"What do you think all that was about?" Lucky whispered to Six as they walked together. She only shrugged in response. Her clothes still looked like someone had painted her a light shade of gray, and she was drawing confused glances from the employees they passed.

"So, we're officially not fighting, right?" he asked.

"What do you think, dummy?"

She said it with a playful smile, one that he'd missed so much in the short time they'd been apart. She bumped his hip into his as they walked back to the main elevator. Feeling safe and alone, they leaned against the elevator wall together, squishing against each other as close as they could. He was happy just to feel her arm against his, like the first time they'd held hands.

"Do you want to hang out when we get back?" Lucky asked.

"I'm still kind of exhausted," she replied, to his disappointment. "I need to clean up, too. I feel disgusting."

"Tomorrow?"
"Definitely."

Lucky watched Six walk back down her hallway, with a little pang of longing in his heart. He didn't care how dirty she was or how strangely she acted, he would rather be next to her than spend another day alone in his room.

Even despite that feeling, a scheme was building in the back of his brain, gaining momentum even before he made it to his door. Good scores and Mobius' recommendation weren't all he needed to get that agent position. There was still the matter of competence, of maturity, that extra something that would secure his career. And since Mobius had just ruined his chance to show Miss Minutes he was agent material, he'd have to make another opportunity himself.