My other fandom muses have refused to cooperate in the timeline I have before heading out to spend a week with chaotic family, and I also want to finish this before What If starts, so we return to this story arc with a two-part oneshot, as my Christmas gift to anyone kind enough to follow along these silly scribbles.
There's no substance here, just a fluff and a little angst in the second chapter; read at your own risk.
Have a safe and happy holiday season if you celebrate!
-FOUR WEEKS LATER-
Barely has his foot hit the laminate flooring before Loki immediately turns around and plows right back through the Time Door, yanking Mobius along for the ride.
The skritch of writing stops again, and B-15's eyebrows go up. "Forget something?"
"We did." Loki reaches into Mobius' jacket pocket, skillfully eluding the swatting hand which tries futilely to stop him, and appropriates his Tempad.
"We did? What'd we forget?"
Loki begins inputting new coordinates. "That I am a Frost Giant," he retorts. "I am more than pleased to participate in a conspiracy to forcibly remove you from this place for your own good, but I am not going to voluntarily holiday in your planet's tropical regions in late August. It is inhospitable even by human standards."
"Fair point," Mobius replies, chuckling. "Sorry. Try December or January. November can still be hurricane season."
"I have a meeting in five minutes, so do it quickly," B-15 says, much amused. "And use the hallway if you need to pop back next time."
"Understood." Another Time Door opens, and Loki gestures to it with a low bow of dramatic flair. "After you."
"Give me that, you scamp," Mobius mutters, swiping the device out of his hand as he leaves.
"At least three days, Loki," Willis says, pointing a stylus at him. "And no work calls. Confiscate that Tempad if you have to."
"I doubt that will be necessary; I had O.B. firewall its communications interface before we left the Void hub this morning. It looks like it's still working, but no messages will actually go through. It is easily reversible once we return."
She gives a sharp bark of laughter. "He's going to throttle you when he realizes."
"I do believe I can handle it," he says dryly. "I guaranteed you three days at the least, and three days you shall have."
"A week, preferably, but I know it might not be possible."
"I will do my best. And if there's an emergency, the communications portal in the Void hub will be capable of reaching us. I should be able to sense if anything happens near the Tree, as well."
She smiles and makes a shooing motion with both hands. "Go on. You both deserve the break."
Loki offers her a small smile, and steps back through the Door, this time into slightly less humidity and an only sub-infernal climate.
"You two finished talking about me, huh?" Mobius asks from somewhere in the kitchen area. The words are punctuated by a somewhat testy clink of drinkware.
"We are," Loki replies, unbothered. He slides into one of the tall stools at the small kitchen island, and folds his arms on the marbled countertop. It is not the first time he has visited here, but it is the first in which he has had the time to actually relax and note his surroundings, rather than spending all energy in attempting to maintain an illusion or recovering from his lonely vigil at the End of Time.
"I don't like being gossiped about."
"Perhaps you should be more boring, then," Loki replies, without an ounce of prevarication.
A brief snort. "That depends on who you ask, I think. Juice?"
"Yes, thank you."
Loki accepts the offered glass of brightly-hued juice, pressed fresh from a fruit native to the area. Its ease of access is one of the very few things he has found enjoyable about this particular location on Earth, the few hours he has spent here. There was nothing quite like an orange on Asgard, both sweet and tart at the same time.
"At the least, do not force someone in upper management to audit your working hours and intervene accordingly. I am told this is a bad habit you have built over the last few years."
"My habits are my business, and I really don't think you technically qualify as upper management anyway. And I know it was you, don't act like it wasn't. All those years watching the past-present-future, but you have no idea how to hide your tracks electronically."
"Hmph. If anything, I am the upmost management, and in a class of my own."
"I would love to see you say that to Gamble in a council meeting. She's not in the least intimidated by having a demigod in the next chair over."
"Indeed. It is quite refreshing. I like her."
"I'm a little scared to observe that I think the feeling's mutual," is the wry response.
"What can I say." Loki sets the glass down with an affected shrug. "Perhaps I am just that charming."
"Uh-huh. Sure you are. So," he adds, setting the glass in the sink. "You got me here, what's the big plan for the next couple of days?"
Loki blinks. "I volunteered to drag you away from your desk, not plot a detailed itinerary in a locale of which I know nothing. What does one typically do when on vacation, here?"
"I mean, that, mostly," Mobius says, gesturing toward the ocean some meters beyond the back deck. "Sand and surf. And sun. Lots of sun."
Loki's face twitches in an expression of polite disdain.
"That's what I thought. What's the date you sent us to, anyway?" Mobius turns to look at a digital calendar/clock combination attached to the refrigerator.
"The 23th December, I believe."
"So it's not quite busy tourist season, and almost Christmas Eve. That has possibilities, I guess."
After centuries of monitoring timelines, Loki has gained knowledge of many things which might have otherwise puzzled an Asgardian prince, somewhat out of touch with not just the realms, but reality. Some of those being interesting planetary holidays, including this much-exploited 'season of good cheer' on Midgard.
The commercialism of such a holiday is relatively unappealing, save in its potential for low-grade mischief such as family feuding (not even he would stoop so low as to condone tormenting underpaid and overworked service staff), selfishness, and over-indulgence. However, at its heart, the holiday stands as most holidays do, in the purpose of fostering a sense of unity and celebration, however undeserved the latter might be at times.
And there is always the feasting which accompanies such a major holiday, which is slightly reminiscent of Asgard in its joyful and at times obnoxious enthusiasm. Not that he would ever admit this, to any Midgardian.
"What sort of things does one do around this place, for the holiday?" he asks, with genuine curiosity. "There can hardly be traditional winter festivities here, in the tropics."
Mobius clears his throat. "I…honestly have no idea, really, only what I've read about," he replies, somewhat haltingly. "I don't remember ever celebrating it, though I have to assume I did, if I had kids. Seems like a big kid thing." He frowns for a second. "Did you see…?"
"Your children in the branches I have seen were boisterous and full of mischief, yes. In most timelines, they thoroughly enjoyed the holiday, albeit in a much colder climate."
"Hm." A small smile. "I'm glad to hear that."
"They were very loved, despite occasional familial friction. That much was clear," Loki adds quietly. "I daresay had my own parents emulated that model, my own troubled timeline might have been quite different."
"I know you haven't lived it, but they did eventually come around, you know. And I include your brother in that."
"Thor has a good heart, which is frequently overruled by misdirected enthusiasm and braggadocio." Loki shrugs. "But yes, I do know this. I have seen it in many branches, and am grateful for the knowledge. But the fact remains that in most, something similar to my own occurred. It is apparently my destiny to be, at minimum, the disappointing youngest child."
"That's not destiny. That's bad parenting." Mobius shrugs in response to the incredulous look. "What. Odin was a jackass. You don't play favorites among your kids."
"Have care about whom you speak."
"That was me 'having care'," Mobius retorts. "You're not the only one who's seen at least most of those variant timelines, Loki. You didn't deserve what happened to you, not in any branch I ever saw. And I hate that we probably pruned hundreds of them where your nexus event was nothing more than having a half-way decent father, or being told the truth about your parentage from childhood."
"My choices were my own, Mobius. I have to live with that."
"Yes, you made some awful decisions and gotta take responsibility for them, but that could've been so different, if you'd just been given half a chance. The TVA failed you."
"The TVA failed us all, in the end," Loki replies quietly. "And yet, I am grateful for it now. And it is only fitting that the organization receives the same second chance which was extended to me."
Mobius nods in silent agreement, and for a second just watches the ocean through the window. Then, he turns back, a quizzical expression on his face. "The kids were happy, right?"
"Very much so. And in nearly every case, grew out of that childhood mischief into successful adulthood." Loki continues with a smirk, "The younger's inclination to recreational arson was surprisingly multi-universal. I applauded their dedication to the craft more than once."
Mobius laughs.
"You could have that again, you know," Loki adds, more subdued. "If you wished it. There are universes where you could step in at nexus moments. Ones where you were absent by choice or by fate. They would likely never know the difference. I could restore those memories to you, and make that happen, all in a matter of moments."
"I don't want that." Mobius shakes his head, and amends, "I don't know what I want, not yet. But I don't think I could do that, not without telling them. I've had enough obscuring the truth, enough hiding reality, to last me the rest of whatever lifetime I've got. I don't really know what I want, but I know I couldn't live with just taking someone else's life." Loki isn't quick enough to hide his relief, and Mobius clearly sees it. "You're not getting rid of me anytime soon, I promise."
"I admit I am selfishly pleased to hear this."
"You could do the same, though," Mobius says suddenly. "I'm guessing there are plenty of universes out there that don't have their Loki. You could go back to Asgard. You could even prevent Ragnarok, probably. I don't know if that's actually a fixed point or not."
"The thought had occurred to me," Loki admits. "More than once, through the years. But if one offers free will, it must remain such without stricture. Restrictions imposed upon it negate the definition that it is free. Sylvie's methodology was incorrect, but she was not wrong in believing that one must extend free will and then walk away."
"I agree, but don't you think the man at the top should have a little leeway on occasion?"
"No. I cannot interfere with a timeline, particularly for selfish reasons; once one starts down that path, there is no turning back. I would be no better than He Who Remains, if I did so."
"That just sounds awfully neutral, for arguably the most powerful force we're gonna have against a multiversal war," Mobius says mildly.
"Defense of the whole is worlds away from an act of deliberate, selfish interference with one portion of that whole, but I take your point." Loki sighs. "I am hopeful that war is many, many centuries hence. Perhaps we might even avert it entirely."
"That was my hope, when we started building a secondary TVA. That's just the first phase of the plans. If we can stay under the radar for about twenty more years, Void time, we might be able to negate the threat altogether with the right network in place across the branches. That'd be amazing."
"Your plans are, in a phrase, incredibly ambitious, rivaling those of the best military tacticians I have seen – and I have seen them all, throughout time. I have no idea why you continue to insist you are but an average analyst, when your intelligence has clearly been proven to be otherwise."
Mobius's face turns an interesting shade of crimson. "You do know how to spin a story," he mutters, busying himself with placing both empty glasses into the dishwasher. "But flattery isn't gonna get you anywhere with me. All these years of going without, I'm completely immune now."
Loki perks up slightly. "Is that a challenge? I am somewhat out of practice in the art of manipulation."
Mobius snorts, but he's obviously trying not to laugh. "We kind of frown upon doing psychological experiments in human nature on the humans themselves, Loki."
"That is not a no."
"That's a 'please let me get a decent night's sleep before you proceed straight to being a pain in my ass'."
"Fair enough."
-THREE HOURS LATER-
Their arrival in the Keys being mid-afternoon, Mobius spends the first few hours taking care of household tasks which have gone undone in all the chaos of the last few weeks. Things like breaking down recycling, changing sheets, doing laundry, tossing expired items from the fridge, the kind of mundane stuff that helps to keep him grounded when jumping time zones.
He's hoping to make his escape after three days, but he's well aware everyone at the TVA is not expecting them back for a full week, so they might as well settle in and be comfortable. There is nothing which cannot wait a little while, at least, and they both are badly in need of rest, if not relaxation.
Meanwhile, because he's under no impression Loki has any idea how to do something so mundane as household chores, Mobius sets him up with a laptop for distraction, and tells him to procure dinner and have it delivered, no magic, phone calls or Time Doors allowed, and remember it's a holiday week, so there's probably limited options. Loki at first protests vehemently against learning how to use such a complicated piece of technology, but within two minutes of being shown the internet browser is typing furiously. With two index fingers only, but at an almost inhuman speed, brows knitted in concentration.
Mobius has an excellent anti-virus program, and so leaves him to it. He is pleasantly surprised when the doorbell rings an hour later to admit the largest assortment of Asian dishes he's ever seen someone carry in a bike basket and backpack combo.
He can't remember how much tip is customary in this period, so he errs on the side of caution. Judging from the kid's effusive holiday wishes, it is satisfactory.
"Did you clean out my bank account ordering the entire menu?" he asks, poking his head into the living room on his way back to the kitchen with the spoils.
"Hm?" Loki looks up from the screen, his face lit in stark shadow. "I chose a dozen things at random and used whatever payment method is set as Default, if that is your question. Was that not correct?"
"Just a joke, never mind. It's automated, anyhow, it won't overdraft."
"Automated?"
"Oh right, we started that well after you left us."
Loki shuts the laptop with surprising gentleness, given his previous aggressive treatment of the poor keyboard, and moves to assist in unpacking the meal. "Started what?"
"We call it the Roxxcart Protocol."
"Seriously?"
"The name was Judge Willis' idea, actually. And I liked the 'oncoming storm' symbolism. That's where it all began, for both of us, you know. The beginning of the end."
Loki raises an eyebrow. "Do enlighten me, then. What precisely is the Roxxcart Protocol?"
"It's the process of setting active agents up with an established identity on timeline branches. Starting to build cover stories and a paper trail for them. Things like identification documents, work history. Bank accounts. Safe houses. Communication devices that can't be tracked by temporal scanners. A travel method appropriate for the time and location. Credit cards, or another way to access funds immediately."
"Whatever for?"
"In case the TVA is ever under attack." Mobius answers soberly. "In the event of a fullscale evacuation, everyone has an escape plan that can be deployed at a moment's notice. Even if we get hit without warning, most everyone should, in theory, be able to escape before the TVA falls. Literally or figuratively."
"Your idea, I presume."
"One of 'em, yeah. It was more difficult than I thought it would be, to settle in here, figure out how it all worked. So I thought it would be a good idea to minimize that in future for other agents."
"So this protocol is enacted only if the war hits?"
"Basically. If we do lose the TVA, odds are we'll be blowing up the bridge behind us when we go. Scattering our agents all through space and time, and leaving the Tree – I assume also leaving you, in that scenario – completely unprotected. We have to have a way to blend in and make powerful allies quickly across the branches, without attracting the wrong attention. SHIELD and SWORD may be helpful on occasion, but they're not going to take kindly to rogue time agents gatecrashing timelines, at least not without making themselves a useful asset."
"Norns, Mobius. You are taking this far more seriously than the rest of your council. Do they have any idea how much work you've put into the infrastructure, just so they can sit there and debate policy change all day each day?"
"You're being a little harsh on them," he says, with a fond smile. "They're focused on the internal angle, so you don't have visibility into all the things they've done to help agents adapt, retraining hunters, and that kind of thing. But it's adorable you're all offended over me being slighted by bureaucracy."
Loki's noise of vague dissent is punctuated by the crunch of an egg roll. He chews for a moment in consideration, and then his nose wrinkles. "That is repulsive. How can something be at once tasteless, yet also taste horrible."
Mobius laughs, and snatches the bag back from him. "More for me, then. But yeah, if you don't like cabbage, you're not gonna want them. Or the salad, probably." He picks up a white carton and passes it across the island. "Here, try that."
Loki squints at the handwriting on the side. "Simultaneously both fruit and poultry?"
"The orange is in the sauce, not the chicken itself. And you like oranges." Mobius raises an eyebrow, as this statement and the food itself are given due consideration. "Well?"
"It is edible, if a bit plebian in origin. Chicken, really."
"You were the one that didn't order duck, your majesty," Mobius says dryly, and snatches the sweet-and-sour chicken carton and sauce container before Loki can get his hands on either. "Nope, mine. You can have the rest of it."
Loki's laughter drifts after him onto the back deck, where he takes a second to light the bug-repellant torches, then returns to make sure the small bistro table under the tiny awning at one end is clean enough to eat from.
It is, but apparently not enough for a god, because Loki takes one look at it and waves a hand in disdain, reverting it to sparkling like-newness in an instant.
"You're a snob."
"Proudly," Loki deadpans, digging into the carton of chicken with remarkable enthusiasm for something deemed merely edible.
Mobius shakes his head with a smile, and settles back to watch the waves roll in.
Down the beach, a family of four, possibly on a Christmas holiday, is enjoying the sunset, the parents swinging the smallest child in between them and the other running in circles around them, splashing in the surf. Finally the father swings the toddler up to sit on his shoulders, and the sound of childish laughter can be easily heard above the waves.
His thoughts must be easily readable on his face, because Loki breaks the silence after a moment, his tone cautious and gentle.
"You were a good parent, Mobius. In every timeline." Loki chews a piece of chicken thoughtfully, and then amends, "Not that I am the expert on the subject. But your children were well cared-for, and providing for them was always your biggest priority. That much was abundantly clear."
"I'm glad to know that. Thank you." He leans back with a sigh, and then points a chopstick across the table. "Did you know Judge Willis was a pediatrician, in her timeline?"
"I found out when I was trying to recruit her after the Loom meltdown, yes. Frankly, I found that much harder to believe than that Casey was a convicted felon."
Mobius grins down at his carton. "His skill set's come in handy, I have to say."
"Breaking and entering?"
"Among other things, but yeah." Mobius shrugs. "I'm not an engineer, and I've learned I'm a terrible architect, too. I wildly underestimated the amount of time it would take to complete the first phase of the build plans. When I realized how long everything was actually going to take, I had to pivot. Find a way to shave the time off somewhere. Manufacturing seemed the least risky place to start."
"So you started robbing timelines."
"Apocalyptic timelines, at the very end of their branches," he corrects. "But yes, technically. It saved us at least two years in the construction. Two years on my time, not yours."
Loki's face turns a shade paler in the fading light. "Then I am thankful you pivoted," he admits.
"It still took too long. I was just hoping, praying even, that you were hibernating, or something. As time went by." Mobius sets the carton down on the table, appetite rapidly vanishing under the weight of conversation topic.
"I was, in a manner of speaking, for much of the time; magic requires a period of near-unconscious rest for replenishment when in constant use. The cycle did seem to grow longer each time I slept, however."
That's terrifying. "Good thing we got you out when we did, then."
Loki shrugs. "I would have survived, though likely would have fallen permanently into something similar to the hibernation you mention. Except in rare circumstances, gods cannot die."
"No," Mobius allows quietly. "But they can wish they were dead."
"It did not come to that." Loki reaches across the table, and briefly puts a hand on his wrist. "Thanks primarily to you, Mobius."
He shivers, and not from the evening ocean breeze. "I'm gonna go get a sweater, I'll be right back."
"That was far too clumsy a change of subject for someone of your intelligence," Loki says mildly, waving a hand. A swath of deep green fabric drops into Mobius' lap a moment later.
"What is this."
Loki blinks. "A blanket, what does it look like."
"I dunno, but it feels like a kitchen curtain." He lifts it curiously, and holds it up to the light. "The comfiest blankets are knit, not woven."
Loki looks so indignant at this assessment that Mobius has to laugh. "Fine," he adds, swinging the fabric around so it drapes over him like a strangely-shaped shawl, looped up over the arms at the elbow. "Thank you, Loki."
"Hmph."
"I mean it. I've been meaning to put curtains up in the kitchen." He perfectly times this so that Loki's left spluttering into his water glass. "But yeah, I guess I was changing the subject. I just hate thinking about it."
"Perhaps your new TVA should employ at least an on-call therapist." Loki shrugs at the incredulous look. "I had thousands of years to become more informed of mortal needs, Mobius. It is not an unreasonable suggestion."
"No, it's a damn good suggestion, and I've already made it, a few months ago. We're vetting people now," Mobius replies, smiling. "I'm just not used to you being so empathetic without being prompted. It's a good thing."
Loki picks at the carton of chicken for a long moment. "Perhaps I simply have a new appreciation for being able to speak with someone other than myself," he says quietly. "Cathartically or otherwise."
"Yeah, I suppose you would." Mobius looks up. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm no medical doctor, but I probably know your life – lives – as well as you do."
"I would agree. And I do know, Mobius. Of all the many things I have forgotten over the centuries, your kindness is not one of them." Loki looks at him over a fork full of orange chicken. "Your love for that yellow death trap parked in your carport is another."
Mobius chucks a fortune cookie at him good-naturedly. "Not a death trap if I've known for years I have the God of Time on call," he says, grinning. "Is it, now."
Loki rolls his eyes, and then picks up the wrapped cookie curiously. "I have never understood the appeal of such things."
"They do taste like cardboard." Mobius agrees. "I guess it's just tradition more than anything else at this point. Go on, let's see how off-base it is." He opens his own cookie and snaps it in half.
Loki follows his example, and crushes it into dust in the process.
"Well, that's one way to do it," he teases, as he wiggles the tiny slip of paper out of his own cookie. "Every great change begins with one good man," he reads, with a wry grimace. "Little on the nose, isn't it?"
"And misogynistic, as well. But the base sentiment is not incorrect."
"True. All right, let's see yours."
Loki makes a spiral motion in the air with one finger, and the cookie shards twirl rapidly up to reform into the correct shape.
"That's a useful trick. Are you actually rewinding time? Without a Time Stone or verbal incantation?"
"Indeed. Stephen Strange could never." Loki preens just a little, and somewhat well-deservedly. "It would not do to employ such a process for large-scale events, but there is no disruption in the flow of time for something small. It's a parlor trick, Mobius, nothing more."
"It is very cool, parlor trick or not."
Loki smiles, and this time breaks the cookie into perfect halves. He picks up the tiny slip of paper, and then the smile slides into something softer. "The past is a lesson, the present a gift, and the future an opportunity," he reads aloud. "Also a bit on the nose, and incredibly cliche. But no less accurate, I suppose."
"Well." Mobius tilts his water glass toward the other side of the table. "To change and time, I guess."
"A worthy toast, indeed."
"You throw that glass down on my deck, and I will stab you with a chopstick."
