-EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER-

Mobius could do with a couple of aspirin, or possibly whatever the magical thirty-fifth century equivalent is. Unfortunately, the latter is back at the Central infirmary, and he's already taken the former with very little success. It's going to be a very long day, and it's barely past breakfast time (of which, he had only the aforementioned aspirin with a black coffee chaser).

"O.B. O.B.!" he finally interrupts, with a grimace of desperation. "Break it down for me. In simple words. We've only got a few minutes here."

Ouroboros shrugs, unperturbed by his curtness. "There are no simple words when you're bending the laws of temporal physics. That's part of the reason why we call anything we don't currently understand in that realm, well. Magic."

Loki seems to pick up on the fact that Mobius' blood pressure is making a rapid ascent, and interjects in a much calmer tone, tapping impatiently on the desk top. "How long a delay are we talking about, exactly."

"Two weeks? Give or take?"

"Can any of that be shaved off and stay within safety parameters?" Mobius asks wearily.

"Uh. I don't think so."

"Could that window be narrowed with magical assistance?"

"Maybe. But I'd need to run some simulations with you, to guarantee that," O.B. replies. "And you're not gonna be around today."

"Fine." Mobius makes a frustrated gesture. "Just do the best you can, O.B. I don't want anyone messing with dangerous equipment if we don't have safeguards in place, magical or otherwise."

"I figured, but I had to check. They're supposed to work on the weapons storage wing masonry today, but they can't until we have the whole thing properly warded, since the runes have to be put in the foundation layer and archway keystones. And that's not something we can just guess at."

"I have a better idea," Loki says, as he accepts O.B.'s offering of a Tempad and passes it back to Mobius. "When our business is finished on the branches, Mobius can return in linear Time via Tempad coordinates. I'll simply return to a time near this particular moment, by Time-Slipping, and we can proceed from there without loss of time on your end."

"Oh." O.B.'s eyes light up. "Say, that's a really handy strategy!"

"It's not exactly pleasant for the person involved," Mobius says, brows furrowed.

"I can handle it," Loki assures him. "I would not recommend it happen often, due to the safeguards you have in place here – it requires a massive amount of magical power to get around them. But infrequent use should have no significant ill effects on me."

"I can monitor him," O.B. volunteers cheerfully. "But if you're that concerned, Mobius, I can just tell the architects to come back tomorrow. You're the boss."

Mobius glances sideways. "Your call," he says. "You're the one who'll have to put up with the consequences."

"I believe it would be worth the effort. And is far less strenuous a solution than casting a duplication of myself and maintaining it here for hours."

"Okay then. I'll see you tonight, O.B." Mobius shoves the Tempad into his pocket. "And I guess you'll see Loki in just a minute."

"Good luck, guys!" O.B. calls after them cheerfully as they depart Research & Advancements at a brisk clip.

"It really isn't a huge deal to delay the warding another few days," Mobius says as they head toward the Atrium. "Won't it get confusing, slipping back and forth between two time periods?"

"On a branch, yes – it would result in a paradox event that is tricky business to maneuver safely. But here, within the Time Locked work hub, no paradoxes can occur due to your implemented temporal safeguards. So when I return to linear time here, with you, then my past self, working with O.B., will simply disappear into the void, leaving only the version in the linear Present."

"Huh." Mobius grins. "Two places at once, that is handy."

A brief chuckle. "It might have its uses, both personal and professional." Loki's head jerks up suddenly, and he makes a spreading, double-handed gesture directly in front of them. What looks like a vivid string of glowing green suddenly appears vaguely at knee-level, eerily shimmering against the stark white of the corridor.

Mobius barely has time to vocalize a mystified "Huh?" before something drops on him like a brick from a ventilation shaft. He vaguely hears Loki's startled exclamation over the clatter of a small knife hitting the ground as Mobius calmly disarms the assailant.

In two seconds, the child is dangling a few inches off the ground, magically held by the scruff of his jacket like an angry chihuahua.

Loki gestures in exasperation with his free hand. "A tripwire, really? How pedestrian. If you insist upon biting the hand that feeds you, at least be less primitive about it. You're embarrassing."

The child scowls, and aims a futile kick at his captor in retaliation.

"Easy," Mobius says, with a remonstrative hand on Loki's arm. "Put him down."

"I do not require your intervention, mortal!" the boy snarls, followed by a yelp as Loki drops him unceremoniously to his feet.

"Uh-huh, sure you don't."

The child eyes the knife on the ground a few inches away.

"Don't even think about it," Mobius drawls, as he keeps walking, easily avoiding the magical hazard. "You're 0 for 3, kid. I'd quit while you're ahead."

He hears a childish mutter and a rapid reprimand, after which small steps fade down the corridor in the direction of the living quarters. Loki comes up behind him a moment later and slows his pace accordingly as they turn off into the office wing, currently protected by handprint recognition software stolen from a twenty-ninth century apocalypse.

"What the Hel was that about."

"Ah, he's harmless enough. I think." Mobius chuckles as he shoves the office door open, almost silent on brand-new, squeaky-clean hinges. "And I need the practice. I've spent way too long off the field at this point, my reflexes aren't what they should be."

"So you're allowing a variant to attack you within your own walls?"

"I'm allowing him to practice his skills without actually killing anyone," Mobius responds, in a more sober undertone. "I don't want to have child soldiers when the time comes, but I know we may not have another option."

Loki's eyes harden. "I will not allow it to come to that."

"I know you'll try your best. But you may not have another option, either," Mobius points out. "And regardless, I'm not letting you take it all on yourself, this time. Whatever comes, we face it together, however many or few of us that might be. That was the deal."

"You drive a hard bargain, Agent Mobius." With an overly dramatic gesture, Loki tosses the pile of files he'd been carrying on the desk, whereupon they cascade across the polished surface in a flurry of paper, knocking a couple of pencils to the floor in the process.

"Can you not?" Mobius says dryly, as he reaches for his jacket, discarded earlier on the back of the chair. "You literally have your own office to unleash chaos in."

"Now where would the enjoyment be in that?"

-THIRTY MINUTES LATER-

Rather than accosting her at her place of work, since she's now in a position of authority at this point in the branch timeline, Mobius suggests they go direct to Sylvie at home instead, several years following his last visit to her.

Loki has no objections, and in fact does not seem overly eager to reunite with her, but if half of what he's said is true, Mobius can't really blame him for that. Whatever connection they might have had back in the beginning, clearly cooled toward the end as incompatibility became more evident. She's done well for herself here, building a life that is solely her own, and it would be pretty hypocritical of him to judge her for that.

To avoid making a public scene, Mobius walks through the Time Door directly into her living room this sunny afternoon on Earth.

He then promptly ducks to the side as a blast of magic rebounds off the glowing rectangle.

"Well, I'm glad to see ten more years hasn't changed you that much," he says mildly. "I come in peace, Sylvie."

Hands wreathed in green and hair dyed a fiery shade of copper now, Sylvie scowls at him and makes a frustrated gesture, magic winking out. "Do you have even the slightest concept of how stupid it is to startle me? What are you doing here."

"Got a present for you," he replies, grinning.

Sylvie's eyes flick suddenly over his head, almost in anticipation, as Loki steps through the door after him and closes it with a flick of the hand.

Mobius is smart enough to remove himself entirely from the crossfire, this time.

The sofa's comfy enough to watch the show, at least. A fluffy gray cat of some indeterminate breed is its only occupant right now, and the animal does nothing more than chirrup at him and then promptly return to sleep, tail flicking ever-so-slightly as he takes the free cushion.

Something shatters in the kitchen, either with magic or under the sonic force of Sylvie's outraged screeching.

The cat never even twitches a whisker.

(Incidentally, this is the other reason Mobius suggested not reuniting in a public area, initially. He has no desire to do the paperwork for a harmless fast-food restaurant suddenly becoming a Nexus event due not to a perpetually broken milkshake machine, but a couple of demi-gods pulling daggers near some poor kid's birthday party.)

Now, Loki picks himself up from the colorful rug and dusts his clothing off with the haughtiness of much-aggrieved royalty. "Honestly. I would have thought decades living amongst Midgardians might have mellowed you a bit. I see I was badly mistaken."

"What the Hel did you think you were doing?" Sylvie demands, the air crackling with suppressed rage. "You left us, with absolutely no explanation! How dare you!"

Loki sends the couch a somewhat helpless look.

Mobius raises his hands in a very clear nope, not it gesture. "Sorry. I'm with her on this one."

"There was no other way. I swear it." Loki turns back to her. "I learned to control Time, and I ran every possible scenario through to its conclusion. For hundreds of years. There was no other option that would save everyone, rather than only a select few no more deserving of free will than the rest." He takes a step forward, hand outstretched. "Look at my memories, Sylvie. I am telling the truth."

After one second of hesitation, she takes his hand, and for a moment silence and a pale green glow replaces the awkward dialogue. Then, as if coming back to herself, she shakes her head and steps back, arms now folded.

Loki's hand drops slowly to his side.

"Prrrrp." The cat stretches, and pads its way across the back of the couch to sniff curiously at Mobius's ear.

"It was the only way," Loki repeats, in a quieter tone. "You are now aware of the alternatives. They were not acceptable to me."

"I know." A sad smile. "But you're still a colossal idiot for how you went about it."

"I accept that judgment."

Sylvie gestures vaguely at the couch. "Do you have any idea how much work he's put in to find you? To bring you back?"

"Hey, don't drag me into this. I'm an innocent spectator here," Mobius says, cheerfully scritching the cat under the chin as it clambers down his front.

"One who did not bother to send any kind of message indicating success in finally retrieving him," Sylvie says, with one hand on her hip. "That's just petty, Mobius."

"And I accept that judgment." He pets the cat once more time, and then sets it gently on the cushion beside him, whereupon it finally settles into a comfortable position, paws folded. "You were the one that demanded the Clean Slate Protocol and told me not to come back," he adds, with pointed emphasis. "And Tempad communications work both ways. You could've checked in anytime."

An icy glare is his only response.

"But honestly, I just wanted to make sure the systems we have in place at the Tree were gonna hold up longer than thirty days, before we really consider it a semi-permanent solution. It'll still be a week before we hit the test benchmark. I would've told you as soon as we knew things were looking permanent, I promise."

Sylvie regards him with more exasperation than anger now. "A week, yet. So this isn't a goodwill visit, you need me for something."

"You make it sound so mercenary."

"Norns, you are annoying." She turns back to Loki, who is looking a little befuddled at the strange exchange. "Honestly, what do you see in him?"

Loki's cheeks flush slightly. "That is not the reason we're here." He glances automatically at the couch as he speaks, and then does a comical double-take. "Did you acquire a Midgardian pet."

"Incredibly graceful change of subject. But yes," she answers, looking suddenly wary. "Not like I had the opportunity for companionship while running from your precious TVA."

"He's nice," Mobius interjects, petting the cat again.

"She," is the swift correction, but Sylvie's face softens. "One of my employees found her a few years ago in the trash receptacles behind the restaurant. Eating cold French fries out of a rubbish bag."

"A feisty little survivor, huh." Mobius scritches the cat's chin again, and its purr is loud and bold and incredibly self-satisfied. "Sounds familiar."

The jingle of a small, practical collar and tag catches his eye, and he glances down at it, then double takes and looks back up, eyebrows raised.

"What." Sylvie's tone is all innocence.

Mobius tries to scowl, but it's kind of impossible given the circumstances. "I'm sure it's just coincidence, huh."

"I have no idea what you're getting at." She turns back to the sink, where she had been in the midst of rinsing a glass when they arrived.

After a moment of uncertainty, Loki moves toward the couch with a quizzical expression.

Mobius flicks the ID with a small metallic ting, whereupon the cat attacks his finger briefly before losing interest just as fast. Loki sits on the edge of the couch and scoots forward to look at the tag, then dissolves in genuine, almost maniacal laughter.

"Shut up." The words are snarled from the next room, but are not even close to sounding legitimately angry.

"You adopted a gray-haired cat and named it Dawn," Loki says, still grinning. "Do I detect a hint of sentiment?"

This time, the response is in vivid, crisp, and incredibly filthy archaic Asgardian.

"He speaks every language on the timelines," Loki says dryly. "But consider the sentiment duly noted, in that case."

Sylvie re-appears in the archway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a floral-patterned hand towel, and glowers at them both. "Are you going to spit out why you're actually here, now that you've had a grand laugh at my expense."

"We're sorry, Sylvie." Mobius kicks Loki's ankle when he hears a derisive snort. "And yeah, there's a reason we're here. We could use your help."

"With what." She eyes them suspiciously. "I told you, last time was just that - the last time. I have no interest in your TVA, however new and improved it may be."

"We need a neutral location in which to discuss terms with the former Judge Renslayer, one that is firmly beyond the all-seeing eye of the TVA," Loki says, matter-of-fact. "And as the situation will likely require my full focus to maintain that anonymity, I would be more confident in our safety if there were a third party present, one who is aware of the full situation and prepared to act in the unlikely event of some subterfuge being enacted. I believe utilizing a public area such as your workplace here on the branches might be best, if you are amenable to the idea."

"I don't want you mucking up my job or my employees, Loki. I've worked too hard for this life to throw it away on something I couldn't give a damn about."

"Understood. But you have my word, I can ensure the conversation will have no effect upon your work or anyone present."

"Why haven't you just killed her, if you know where she is."

"Because we're working to be better than the version of the TVA you hate so much," Mobius steps in to answer, expression serious. "We don't condone just eliminating problems anymore, even if that's usually easier than fixing them."

"You really believe reformation to be possible. With someone like her."

"I have to try," Mobius murmurs, almost inaudible. "Soft spot for broken things, remember?"

Sylvie scrutinizes him for a long moment, and then tosses the towel onto the counter with a sigh. "Fine. I suppose I owe you one last favor, for all you've done." She then flicks a pointed look at Loki. "On record: I'm doing this for him, not you."

"Then our priorities are, for once, in complete alignment," Loki replies readily, and she finally cracks a smile.