A/N: Be forewarned this starts out fluff and ends in angst, since it's technically canon-compliant.
It's strange, waking up tired.
One of the immutable by-laws of the Time Variance Authority, spelled out in every guidebook: The TVA exists outside of the normal passage of time, and always has. Time is, in simplest terms, just the measurement given to the fourth dimension, the one which measures entropic decay. It's a word, nothing more, the designation of a force which can't be physically measured any other way.
But because Time does not, in its most common definition, exist within the walls of the Time Variance Authority, this means that there is no entropy, no decay. Nothing by which that force can be seen, in humans or objects, other than the infrastructural definition of 'work cycles' and 'break times'.
There is no aging, no hunger, no desire, no sickness, no death, except in the line of duty. No dust on the shelves, and no cracks in the masonry. At first observation, you might think it was a paradise, a utopia of equality. Maybe not a pleasant, but certainly not unpleasant, status quo for all time, always.
But that is simply stagnation. Equality is not always justice, and existence is not living. Serene mediocrity ensures a lack of the emotion which makes all living beings something more than automatons. What makes them human.
Anyone who did not conform was immediately removed from the equation, and now, with the benefit of hindsight? Mobius can clearly see how Ravonna had likely saved him from that fate more than once, over the centuries. He's never been the best at conforming, and she certainly turned a blind eye more than she really should have, where he was concerned. For that matter, she could certainly have pruned him (again) before she left, and she didn't.
Mobius is still not sure how he feels about that.
But now that this point has been driven home with painful clarity over the last few days…it's really starting to sink in, how messed up, how de-humanizing the whole institution is.
Most of the agents don't even have more than a numeric designation; names have always been a privilege delegated solely to middle management or higher. Even their uniforms have always been subdued, drab neutrals, for the most part. Fifty shades of lukewarm beige, Loki had called it, his second week entrenched in the system (how long ago that seems, and how long ago it probably wasn't?), and he hadn't exactly been wrong.
About anything, really.
Mobius is still not sure how he feels about that, either.
But waking up tired is something he is very much not accustomed to. Transitioning back and forth from the Void probably sent his physiology out of whack, and the intensity of the stress that's been building ever since is not making those mandatory rest hours very restful. The more daily cycles that pass with them unable to locate either Ravonna or the missing faction of their minutemen under Dox's orders, the greater the chance that this could all come tumbling down around their ears, whether they're ready or not.
Loki seems to think very strongly that they are not, and might never be, which isn't exactly helping Mobius' own stress levels.
Speaking of which, this is the fourth day now that he's knocked at the door of Loki's hastily-arranged guest quarters, only to find him not within, and the bed not having been slept in, because there is no Loki variant who would stoop to something so humble as making a bed, and this one is pristine. In fact, there's zero evidence that the little apartment has been used at all; and while Mobius admits it's pretty unpalatial, sterile and impersonal…it's still a place to at least unplug for a few minutes every day, and he's not getting the idea that that is actually happening.
Funny, how just a month ago – or who knows, maybe a year ago, the way Time goes wonky here – finding no trace of Loki might have been more cause for widespread alarm. Now, it's just worrisome in a personal way.
Mobius stops by the cafeteria, indulges in a little act of pure rebellion by getting two cups of coffee and then walking off with them, cups included (both actions very much against the Rules), makes a detour to the main chrono bay to receive a status report (very much along the lines of no change, sir), and then makes his way to the Archives, because that's where he's of best use, and what he's good at.
Taking comfort in the familiar is the only way to not have a breakdown, right about now.
It also has the added benefit of tucking him far away from the whispers and rumors and questions and everyone looking to him like he has all the answers, when he very much does not. The mandatory quiet rules and the familiarity of paper and ink are soothing, not stressful.
He wonders absently if it was always like that. Did he spend the mornings reading newspapers, on the Sacred Timeline? Or was he hundreds of years past the death of actual paper, and this is something the TVA shoved into his head on the last reset? Is he even from Earth?
Right, the object is to not have a breakdown. Back to the Archives he goes.
By pure chance, he finds Loki almost right away, sitting on the floor next to one of the archive shelving units, three open boxes on the floor around him, and flicking through an impressive stack of files far more rapidly than he had when assisting Mobius with research the last time. He appears to be so focused on the task that he does not hear the footsteps approaching.
Mobius stops beside him, and nudges him with the toe of one shoe, which causes a flurry of startled flailing and papers going wildly everywhere.
"…Okay," he says, cautiously. "Was just gonna ask if you wanted one of these, but now I'm a little worried. Have you slept at all, since you got back?"
"There is no time for such things," Loki says, almost absently, as he shuffles the papers back into the file and tosses it into what looks like a pile of rejects, based on their haphazard sprawl. "If we are to stay ahead of Him, we must find him. All versions of him. They could be endless, he could have a thousand and one aliases, he could already be plotting war on a timeline branch, he could have left instructions with any number of sleeper agents –"
"Loki –"
"And you have no idea how quickly he might move when the time comes, the TVA must be preparing defenses now."
"I get it, but –"
"We cannot assume it will be years before one of his variants discovers how to travel between branches. As they continue to scale, there will be exponentially more of him to increase the chances of getting it right!"
"Okay, hey, can you let me maybe get a word in?"
Lok's jaw snaps shut, and he looks slightly mortified. "Apologies."
"Don't need those, just need your attention for a second. So look, we're outside the boundaries of Time here, remember? One we identify his variants, it's just a matter of monitoring them. We can travel to a branch with no problem, at any point in the branch's life. War isn't going to just pop up and surprise us, since we can jump behind or in front of it, so to speak."
"What do you and your precious, placid TVA know of war, Mobius?" The derision in the tone is probably unintentional, but grating nonetheless. Loki pulls the next file in the stack onto his lap and opens it. "I will let you know when I have found him. One of him, at least."
"You want to move to a table?"
"No."
Mobius sighs, because he's beginning to suspect he's much older than he thought until a little while ago, and he's for sure too old to sit on the floor for any length of time. Nevertheless, he manages an awkward slide down the shelving unit, and nudges Loki's arm with the other coffee mug until he finally looks up, concentration broken.
"Oh. Thank you." Loki looks down at the mug, and clears his throat before taking a small sip. "How are you doing?"
Mobius side-eyes him, trying not to laugh at the somewhat adorable attempt at obligatory small-talk, when it is very obvious Loki's mind is already back buried in the files at his elbow.
"Don't mind me, just gonna sit here a while. Toss me something if you want help."
Already putting the coffee to the side, safely on an empty shelf, Loki hums in an absent acknowledgment and returns to the file in question.
Mobius settles back, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, and tries to settle the racing thoughts which had kept him up late last night. He wonders absently if there's actually any point in sleeping, now that it's not an enforceable regulation, and if they truly don't need to within the TVA. The last few days have been a notable exception, and he hopes that another few will reel back the lingering weariness that has lurked ever since everything started going to Hel in a handbasket, as the old saying goes.
Snarling, Loki slams the folder closed and tosses it into the growing pile of rejects.
"Sure you don't want help from someone who's lived and breathed these files for centuries?" Mobius asks. "'S my job, you know."
"Quite sure."
"Okay." Mobius settles back into a more comfortable position, empty coffee cup on the bottom shelf next to a file box, then closes his eyes. "Let me know if you change your mind."
"Mm."
Has it always been this quiet, in the Archives? Has there always been a ticking clock that loud somewhere nearby? Or is that just his imagination, a relentless metric countdown to the terrors ahead.
Would they even know, buried down here, if War did arrive without warning?
What would they do, if it did?
What is threatening to become full-blown panic breaks as he's distracted by wild muttering.
"No, no. No no no," Loki's voice sounds hoarse and painful. "No, this cannot be happening."
Alarmed, he opens his eyes, and sees that it is not the contents of a file which has brought this on; rather, Loki is staring at his own hands in what looks like horror.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He's already scrambling to close the few inches between them.
"I –" A quick, shallow inhale, and a look of barely controlled terror. "Am I time-slipping again?"
Mobius stares at him, even more alarmed now, and then looks down at his hands. They are noticeably shaking; but not in a way indicative of cellular destabilization, or any of the other warning signs and very technical terms a very harried O.B. had been kind enough to provide Mobius with the other night.
"It's been almost a week. And we fixed the slipping," he says cautiously. "Didn't we?"
"I don't know! We never did determine the original cause, and it was all theoretical, was it not?"
"I mean…yeah, but the theory was sound." Mobius reaches out and carefully takes one of Loki's icy hands, sliding down to feel the pulse in the wrist. As suspected, it's frantic and fluttery, like a bird struggling to fly in a storm. "Hey, easy. Try to take a deep breath for me."
"I am breathing," Loki snarls, trying to pull his hand away. "Do not patronize me!"
"I'm not patronizing you. But you're not timeslipping, so something else is happening here. I asked O.B. what to look for in case symptoms ever started up again, and you're not displaying any of the things he suggested would probably happen before another episode. Other than being really damn irritable, which is kind of situation normal for you."
His level, intentionally lighthearted tone seems to be doing the trick where words had not; what had been panicked, jerky inhales is slowing to something less chaotic.
"Have you eaten anything recently?"
"Yes, this morning. That awful gruel the cafeteria has."
"It's called oatmeal, and it's not bad if you put some…you know what, never mind," he adds, with a small chuckle. "Is it sitting with you okay?"
"I am nauseated, but presumed that was due to the dreadful texture."
"Mhm. What about sleeping?"
"What about it."
There's a little too much defensive anger in the tone for the answer to be anything positive, but he asks anyway.
"Have you done any of it? Sleeping? In the days since we've been back?"
"Why is that relevant." Loki's eyes dart to the still half-full coffee mug.
"Nope, we're done with that, I think," Mobius says, moving it out of reach. "Last thing you need's caffeine right now, if you're already jittery. Bad idea on my part. Sleep, Loki. In the last five days, how much have you had?"
"Enough."
"Ballpark it for me. An hour? Ten, twenty?" Something in Loki's face causes him to sigh. "Not at all?"
"I can't," is the quiet confession. "I can't, all right? Just leave it, Mobius."
"I can't do that," he replies gently.
"Whyever not."
"Because I care about you, you royal pain in the ass."
Surprised, Loki's eyes widen slightly. He splutters for a second, clearly at a loss to counter either sentiment or sarcasm.
"So talk to me. Why can't you sleep? If you need some kind of medicine or something, we can –"
"No, no. Nothing medical, I swear." Loki sighs, and tosses the file he'd been reading back into the unread stack. "It's really nothing. You should be worrying about yourself, and this place, not me."
"I'm real good at multitasking," Mobius says cheerfully. "And you don't have to go so hard after this research, you know, especially all by yourself. If that's what's keeping you up."
Loki shakes his head, rubbing his eyes wearily. "It is not that." His gaze darts back to his hands, and then away again as he exhales slowly, forming a fist and releasing it, as if to physically banish the tremor.
Oh.
Mobius knows that look.
"Loki, what happened in that past TVA?" he asks quietly.
"What does it matter?"
"It matters if you're refusing to sleep because you're afraid you'll timeslip back there, and not realize you're in danger until it's too late."
Loki stares at him for a second, and then the Archives resound with the loud thud the back of his head makes against the metal shelving unit. He reaches up to rake a hand harshly through his hair, and then it drifts back to his lap again, still clearly unsteady.
"Why on your earth could you not be as dull and unobservant as the rest of your precious analysts," he mutters, although there's a tinge of genuine respect in the tone. "It is quite insufferable."
"Yeah, I've been told that before," Mobius replies with a grimace. "Sorry, but also not so much?"
A vague snort.
"Did someone…did I do something to you, back there in the past?"
"No, nothing like that. I promise, it isn't that." The words sound genuine enough to be somewhat reassuring. "I suppose I'm just still shaken by the whole affair."
"You said I had no idea who you were."
"No. No one did."
"It's kinda hard for me to imagine ever not knowing who you are. But anyway, I'm sorry."
"It was hardly of your doing." Loki half-smiles at some memory. "And to be fair, I'd no doubt have had the same reaction to a complete madman running up to me in these Archives, babbling about oncoming war and multiversal destruction."
"I'm guessing it didn't go over well, trying to explain."
"No. Fortunately, I move a bit faster than the average minuteman, when properly motivated."
That tells him more than anything else so far. "We try to prune you?"
"That was presumably the end game, though I believe apprehension and interrogation were the initial goal."
Mobius is silent for a moment, digesting the implications.
Loki stares unseeing into the middle distance. "Had you told me weeks ago that there would be a day I would feel relief at being back within these walls, I would have laughed you to scorn."
"If I'd told you that, I'd have been the madman in the archives."
"One might believe you still to be. Middle management, sitting on the floor with an exiled demigod and two cups of very substandard stolen coffee. People might talk."
"Okay, yeah, I think you're due a break. You get a lot snarkier when you're tired."
Mobius picks up the stack of unread files, briefly contemplates returning the coffee mugs and discarded folders to their proper place, and decides to send someone back later for both. He's only got two hands. The free one, he extends to Loki, who blinks wearily at it for a moment, and then accepts being pulled to his feet. Clearly stiff from remaining unmoving for hours on end, he stumbles slightly, before catching himself on the shelving unit with a grunt.
"You okay?"
"Fine." The word is muttered through clenched teeth, though it seems to pass momentarily. They turn their path toward the main archive corridor at a much slower pace than usual. "But –"
"Nope, this isn't a debate. We're going to head back to your quarters, and you're going to get a little nap in while I do some legwork through the lovely land of files." He suits action to word, tugging gently at Loki's arm to keep him moving when he is clearly running out of steam. "C'mon."
"Mobius, it is pointless. I cannot sleep right now."
"You can, and you will. 'Cause I'm going to stick around and watch you. I don't miss much, you know. If anything weird starts happening, I'll know about it."
"You would not be able to prevent it."
"Maybe not, but I'll definitely be quick enough to wake you up, so you have warning," Mobius points out. "And if it happens, I'll figure out a way to get a message to you or bring you back, I promise. Okay?"
A grateful nod, though Loki still looks somewhat unconvinced.
"And remember, O.B. knows who you are now in that past TVA. It didn't seem to phase him much, you appearing out of thin air. You just need to find him, and he can help. You wouldn't be going in blind, this time."
The lines of stress around Loki's eyes fade slightly. "That is true. Somehow he must have escaped the last memory wipe by He Who Remains."
"I'm guessing he just got forgotten about, if he hardly ever leaves that room. Slipped through the cracks. Honestly, I don't know how I remembered him in the first place." Mobius frowns, as that thought rears its uncomfortable head again. "I can't remember actually meeting him for the first time, just kind of always knew he was down there. But he obviously remembered me."
"Indeed." Loki's tone is dour, with more than a hint of bitterness. "Clearly the technique used to wipe those memories was only selectively successful."
As the elevator door closes behind them, Mobius pushes one of the buttons and then leans back, balancing the armful of files, as the car begins to move rapidly upward. "Is that what this is really about? Me remembering O.B. now, but not remembering you, back then?"
"It is somewhat difficult to not take it personally."
"Only if your ego's bigger than this building."
Loki chuckles, though there's a world of weariness and something that sounds suspiciously like affection in the brief sound. "Touché."
"I wonder if that's where it all started, though."
"Where what started?"
"Me becoming the 'local Loki expert'."
Loki tilts his head in surprise, but appears to be seriously considering this. "It's possible," he says, somewhat intrigued. "You did ask me my name, at the start. I never gave it to you. Perhaps the mad analyst in the archives portending an oncoming storm piqued your curiosity."
"I also don't have a memory of not being particularly focused on your variants, so yeah. That'd be my guess." He clears his throat, a little uncomfortable at the knowledge that there is clearly a giant hole in those memories he was unaware of until very recently, and no real way to verify what should be there instead short of enchantment, which he's not the biggest fan of. "So maybe it wasn't a wasted experience, at least? 'Cause maybe I'd have picked up a fascination with someone else instead, if you hadn't timeslipped straight to me."
"That is…oddly comforting, actually."
"Even way, way back then," Mobius muses as they exit into the main corridor. "Looks like we had the spark all along, but only because you gave it to us."
Loki sighs. "If your intent is to imply we are in this dreadful mess due to my actions, then I am in reluctant but full agreement."
"That's not what I was saying."
"But it is not untrue."
"Maybe, but it's sure not the whole truth," Mobius counters. "All I'm saying is, maybe this was meant to be, and it's not gonna do any good to get worked up about it just yet."
"Given the existence of the TVA and its ironclad grip upon a 'sacred timeline', I no longer believe in the Fates."
"Well, we've all got free will now, don't we. We can believe in whatever gods we want."
"I would advise against that, as a rule," Loki mutters. He sighs as the sight of the nondescript orange door comes into view. It grants them entrance easily enough, though the interior is no more interesting than the beige corridor beyond. "Have I mentioned that these guest apartments are pathetically under-furnished. They are barely worthy to be termed living quarters."
"Considering there's not much call for tourists in the TVA, and you weren't exactly Mr. Popular around here until like, four days ago, you're probably lucky they didn't try to toss you into a holding cell every night, back when you were first starting to work with me," Mobius says mildly.
"A cell might be more comfortable than that dreadful sofa of yours."
"Or you could just be a spoiled prince who's out of touch with reality."
"Oh, proudly."
A brief chuckle, and Mobius gives him a nudge toward the small bedroom adjoining the bland living room, then dumps the stack of files on the coffee table, seating himself at one end of the cheap couch. "Go get some sleep, your highness. I'll keep watch."
"I don't –" Loki breaks off abruptly, shaking his head in resignation, and apparently decides not to vocalize whatever the new protest is. "Fine." He shuffles tiredly toward the bedroom.
"Hey."
Loki stops and looks back at him inquiringly.
"Couch's mighty uncomfortable, but if you think it'll help, just come back out here and sleep."
"I do not require your assistance."
"No, but you might want it, at some point," Mobius replies calmly, unperturbed by his irritation. He opens the first file on the stack and starts unfolding the document contained therein, already notated with the criteria Loki had been searching for. "Just…if you do, it won't bother me. I believe the time-slipping's fixed, O.B. knows what he's doing. And I can hear well enough out here. But I'd like being able to keep an eye on you, just in case."
Loki gestures pointedly toward the bedroom.
"Nah, those beds aren't big enough for two, and it's a little creepy for me to sit in a chair watching you like a gargoyle. Anyhow, just saying. Come back out if you need to. Or want to," he adds, with a shrug. "Ball's in your court."
Loki's derisive hmph is petulantly punctuated by the banging of the bedroom door.
For precisely seven minutes and sixteen seconds, at least according to the oddly minimalist clock on the wall (which, in retrospect, Mobius now wonders about, since it seems to only count seconds, and he's not completely sure it's doing that right, or if there even is a right way to do it, and now his head hurts), there is blessed silence in the small apartment.
Then the door slams back into the wall as it's shoved open again. Loki reappears in the doorway, trailing a scratchy TVA-brown blanket like a derelict cape, and flumps onto the other end of the sofa with a dramatic groan.
Mobius is wise enough to keep his mouth shut whilst he's getting situated, grumbling all the while, and only raises an eyebrow when his personal space is invaded.
"Kinda hard for me to write like that," he observes mildly, though he makes no move to change the situation.
"You mean your all-knowing creators the Time-Keepers didn't just make all of you ambidextrous, in addition to creating you fully formed and perpetually unaging?" Loki drawls, almost absently. "How unforesightful of them."
Mobius sighs, and finishes scratching the notation in the margin before moving on to the next paper. "I know. I'm an idiot for not realizing before now that it didn't really make sense. I guess I just…I dunno. Saw what I wanted to see. I feel really stupid about that."
Loki frowns, and sits back up. Despite the deep shadows under his eyes – have they darkened in the last few minutes? – he looks fiercely back at Mobius. "I do not say this lightly, mind, but you are anything but stupid. Particularly for a human."
"Yeah, well. Analysis is literally my job. And what kind of analyst doesn't analyze what he's told, when it doesn't make logical sense? I didn't put the pieces together until it was too late."
"It is rather hard to assemble a finished product if you are missing the cornerstones," Loki says quietly. "And if attempting to locate them incurs what could be termed a death sentence. One might say that ignorance is merely a subconscious instinct for self-preservation."
"Yeah." He sighs, and closes the folder, tossing it onto the table and picking up the next. "I guess it's kind of poetic justice that you were the one to shatter the illusion, anyway."
"Illusions are only as realistic as the one casting them. And in this, He Who Remains was extraordinarily convincing." There's a note of sadness in the words. "When one controls Time, one can theoretically reboot the cycle indefinitely until the end goal is reached."
"That's terrifying."
"Terrifying indeed." Loki swallows hard, and settles back against the couch again. "And now there is not just one of him to deal with. The timelines have been freed, and each might hold their own conqueror."
"No turning back now."
"No." The word is quiet, but pensive, and punctuated with what feels like a shudder. "Though perhaps that is for the best. Sterile and impersonal as it is, this TVA seems to be a little less ruthless than its previous iteration."
"Are you ever gonna tell me about it?"
Loki is silent for a moment. Then, "What is there to tell?"
"Everything, since I don't remember any of it." He glances over, softening at what he sees. "I just can't imagine a timeline where I'd willingly put that look on your face. And I really hate it."
For some reason, that pained appearance fades slightly, and Loki smiles, almost to himself. "Your innate kindness is apparently universal, I will grant you that. I believe I was quite distraught when I arrived there, and you attempted to calm me down."
"I guess that's a good thing?"
"For a few moments. Before you realized I was not a fellow analyst as you initially thought, and evaluated me on the spot as a definite threat; not unreasonable, given I was rambling about the timelines branching and a warmonger at the door. A statue of whom stood in the primary exterior Atrium."
"Yeesh. I'm sorry."
Loki waves a hand dismissively, though he slouches a little further down against the cushions with a sigh. "I would have done the same, I'm sure."
"Still. I kind of know what it's like now, to end up somewhere where nobody knows you other than as a threat. With no idea how you're going to get yourself out of it."
"Hm?"
He looks down at the file in his hands, ruefully contemplating the events of the last week. "You have any idea how many of those Loki variants I personally put in the Void? They weren't all happy to see me."
"I had not considered. Wait, did one of them attack you?"
"No, no. I've always opted for flight over fight," Mobius replies with a brief smile. "And none of their majesties had ever learned how to drive a car, since it's so incredibly pedestrian. They weren't expecting that, and didn't really care enough to come after me right then. Bigger fish to fry, I guess? But I'm not gonna lie, it was a little terrifying when I first woke up."
"I can only imagine."
"I had half-expected you to be landing right after me, and when you didn't, I just kept hoping you escaped the TVA somehow. Then I saw Sylvie arrive, and figured something went really wrong somewhere.
"Renslayer certainly wanted us both, Sylvie and I, as a trophy of her prowess before those false timekeepers." Loki swallows hard, and leans slightly harder into him. "And I was not exactly of a mind to put up a fight against her, just then."
"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to get us out before it all came down around our ears," Mobius mutters. "Guess I just wasn't thinking clearly."
"Or perhaps you were thinking clearly for the first time in a very long time."
"Yeah, maybe."
Mobius decides to let the subject drop for now, because he still doesn't know what it means that Ravonna had him pruned, but then didn't finish the job herself in her office, when she definitely could have. If she really wanted him dead, or even out of the way, he certainly wouldn't have been able to stay her hand.
"Anyway. I'm not Sylvie's biggest fan, but I'm guessing that whole thing with her kicking you through a Door was an accident," he adds after a moment. "She was probably trying to send you here, and overshot the time variable. Even standard Tempads can be finicky sometimes, I dunno what an off-brand one would do if it's not locked onto specific coordinates outside the baseline differential."
"Of course you've already analyzed how it might have worked," Loki murmurs, blinking slower and slower now. His words are slurring together slightly, as he loses the fight against exhaustion.
"Mhm." Mobius circles something in the file, more to keep his hands busy and attention not on the god slowly falling asleep on his shoulder. "Glad you found your way back to me, regardless," he says softly. "Even if this calm before the storm isn't going to last…I'm just glad we have a breather."
"I wish it would last," Loki whispers, with a strangely wistful fervency. "Just…just for a little while, perhaps?"
"A few hours, at least." He nudges Loki gently. "You're gonna stay right here with me, okay?"
A brief nod against his shoulder.
"And when you wake up, I'm gonna know who you are. Can you trust me on that?"
"Yes." The word is quiet, but spoken without a moment of hesitation.
"Then try to get some sleep. Whatever's coming, we're gonna have to be ready for it."
There is no answer to that; just a warm, comfortable silence, for about an hour. For some reason, Loki seems to remain awake, or so Mobius thinks; but he appears to be resting peacefully enough, so he doesn't comment on it, just continues to methodically sort the files into what he thinks are rejects, maybes and look-further-intos.
Then Loki suddenly speaks, barely above a whisper. "Are you familiar with time loops?"
Mobius sets the file down immediately, because those awful things are definitely not something to casually mess with, and there's an alarming sort of emotion in Loki's question. More like resignation than curiosity.
"Kind of goes with the territory here in the TVA, yeah." It's a cautious opening gambit, but the vague sense of dread enveloping the room like a singularity seems to indicate caution might be needed. "Why are you asking?"
"Because I've been in one for…I have no idea how long." Loki sounds wrecked, exhausted and even on the edge of despair. "Decades, at least. Centuries, possibly."
What.
Panic ignites again deep in his chest. "What are you talking about?"
"The Loom melts down a few days from now, Mobius."
The air seems a little thin, and yet sticky and cloying at the same time. The words, monotone and robotic as they are, land like a gut punch, the pain lingering like a bruise with every breath. Loki finally sits up, blanket tumbling carelessly to the floor, and only now does Mobius notice he looks so much older than he should – than he did, when he entered the bedroom a little while ago. His eyes are haunted, shadowed and dark, and it looks like every word is physically painful.
The Loki who walked out is not the one who walked in.
"How do you know about the Loom. If it melts down, the branches would all die, wouldn't they?"
"This branch is already dead."
Already dead? This branch?
And he knows what Loki looks like when he's lying.
He isn't lying.
"How do you know that?"
"I have watched it die, hundreds of times now."
Good god.
The analyst in him has questions, though, because that shouldn't be possible in the TVA. They're not on a branch, so time distortion shouldn't even be an option.
"In order, the answers are: Yes, I'm aware a time loop shouldn't be possible within the TVA, since it is not actually on a branch. No, I have no idea why it's different now, or why I am the only one not affected. Yes, I'm sure it is actually a cyclical causality, yes I've read the files about the phenomenon, and I could actually quote them better than you at this point. Yes, I'm capable of breaking out of it. No, I have not yet broken out of it, because the only way I have found by which to do so results in the death of all things, the TVA included. Yes, I am time-slipping again, but intentionally. Yes, I've learned how to control it. Yes, I'm sure I am controlling it. No, I have not yet found a way to save everything, and no, I beginning to think it is not actually possible. Does that cover your panel of analyst inquiry?"
Horrified, Mobius stares at him, and then swallows hard. "How many times have we had this conversation?"
"Too many." The response is barely a whisper. "But usually in the Loom observation room, not here."
"And how many times have you run the time loop through to its causality event?"
"Thousands. I stopped counting after one hundred thousand, when I started trying different points to restart the loop, further and further back. I…"
As if deadened to the impending danger, Loki makes a frustrated, choked noise and hunches over, elbows on his knees and hands locked tightly behind his neck. His knuckles turn white under the pressure.
"I just –" His voice breaks, and it finally takes Mobius' heart along with it, because it's the sound of hope dying. "I just needed a few minutes. I'm so sorry to put that on you."
"Don't you worry about me," he says quietly, and shifts a little to rest a hand on the tense shoulder in front of him, lightly rubbing in slow, soothing circles. "Tell me how I can help you, though? There has to be something. Something you haven't tried?"
The sharp bark of laughter has a hysterical, almost maniacal edge to it. "You say that every time. And every time, I tell you I have tried everything. I have been studying the problem with the sharpest minds in the universes, for centuries now. I have advanced educational degrees in every branch of physics, and on multiple worlds, multiple timelines, by this point."
Mobius pauses momentarily, taken aback, because…yeah, that does seem like there might not be anything left to try, if that's true.
"There is perhaps one more chance to get it all right, if the timing is precise this round," Loki whispers. "And if this attempt fails, I will doom all timelines, even the Sacred Timeline. Forever."
"Is the attempt going to fail?"
"I…" A ragged exhale. "I don't know. I have to believe it won't. I've done all I can, I think."
"Then it'll work."
"How could you possibly know that."
"Because I know you'll keep trying until it does," Mobius says simply. "If not now, then the next time around."
"You do not lie anywhere near well enough for that to actually be convincing," Loki says, though his tone is less unsteady now.
"Or maybe you just know me well enough to tell, after all these time loops."
Mobius half-smiles, despite the awful knowledge of how screwed they really, really are. There's a weird sense of peace that comes with that recognition, though; and the fact that clearly Loki survives the meltdown, yet cares enough to keep trying to prevent it, means hope isn't totally dead, not yet.
"Guess it's only fair you've watched me for thousands of time loops, given I've watched every version of your life I know about. Tit for tat."
A brief, somewhat watery chuckle. "I had not considered it that way."
"See, another thing you haven't tried yet. Who's to say there aren't a dozen more?"
"I suppose." Loki runs his hands through his hair, and then glances up at him. His eyes are steely with resolve. "I will control this. Whatever the cost. That much, I swear to you."
"I know you will. And more importantly, I know you can."
"Thank you, Mobius."
Somewhere far below, in the cavernous depths of the TVA, a loud clang causes the whole room to vibrate, as if the building is about to come down around them.
Loki's resigned expression is indication enough that it is almost over. "The nexus events change with every loop," he says, a painful and hurried breath of explanation. "I have branched the timeline too much by coming here. I went too far back. I just…I just needed to rest, somewhere safe. Just for a few minutes."
That's equal parts flattering and completely heartwrenching.
The lights flicker, the clock on the wall skips a second, then the single hand begins to spin wildly. In the distance a siren of some kind is sounding, growing louder with each second.
"So this is it." Mobius swallows hard against the lump of fear in his throat. Strangely enough, though, he's somehow not as terrified as you'd think, all things considered. "For me. This version of me, at least."
"This version of you was already gone when I time-slipped here," Loki replies, oh-so gentle. "I am sorry. For that, and for putting you through this again for no better reason than my own selfishness. I – I'm so sorry."
Mobius pulls him into a quick hug, because even if he won't remember this, Loki will, and he can't let him keep on like this, year after year after year. As inexorable and hopeless as the march of Time itself, and just as doomed to unleashed chaos.
"Hey. If you've done this thousands of times, all alone, you deserve a little selfishness," he says quietly. He has no idea which of them are actually shaking, maybe both. "And if you need to, you be selfish, and you come back to me, somewhere safe. Promise me you'll do that."
Loki nods his head, wordless. Behind him the room is already spiraling away, fading into in deadly dust-fractals.
"Now." Mobius leans back, and briefly shakes him by the shoulders. "You go again. You hear me? You can do this. You go again."
"We go again," Loki whispers, and the world goes white.