DISCLAIMER: I claim no ownership of Marvel's Loki or affiliated branding (sadly).

SUMMARY: Three hundred and fifty eight TVA cycles after Loki's unexplained disappearance into the Void with the timelines in tow, the universe begins to collapse. Metaphysical horror. A fix-it (of sorts).

NOTES: See end.

Chapter Eight: Me when it gets worse

Mobius wakes to the near-blinding scrutiny of those awful infirmary examination lights, stationed just out of view above his bed. Evidently whatever has put him here is not immobilising, because he raises both hands to his eyes, fighting the spike of pain. "Ow."

"Oh," comes a voice, "sorry, let me just – am I allowed to turn these off? Yeah, probably, hold on –"

Through his eyelids, Mobius sees the white flicker into darkness, and when he dares to open them again there is only the dim ambience of the room, far more comfortable. "Thanks," he says, voice gruff, as he tilts his head on the pillow to find Casey sat at his bedside, absently tinkering with a circular rig, a mesh of wires dangling into his lap.

"Don't worry about it."

It takes a second of recall, but the memories come back fairly easily, compared to some events in which he struggled to remember what had happened at all. No, this time it's a quick replay of everything, and then a murmured, "Hell."

A thin smile. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Loki?"

"Completely fine," Casey assures, raising his eyebrows, "obviously. Though he's been a little… terrifying. B-15's the only one brave enough to go anywhere near the Observation Room. I think he's still a little too scared to lay into her."

He closes his eyes and settles back, wincing as his body protests the movement. "That doesn't surprise me. How'd you guys get me out?"

He can feel Casey watching at him. "You got really lucky. L-23 had some sort of… signal generator on you, which –"

"Oh. The beacon thing." Mobius thought he'd displaced that a while back, in one of the hurried moves to-and-from various stations in the TVA, and had been desperately hoping it would reappear at some point so he didn't ever have to bring it up to L-23. Seems to have revealed itself at the right time. "Yeah. I forgot about that. Must've been in my pocket still."

"Set off pretty much every alarm in the department. L-23 wasn't even in the vicinity to explain what was going on, because she didn't run this system by O.B., but he figured it out quick enough to trapdoor you out of there."

"Mm." The heavy hum of medical machinery, combined with the strange hush of the often-empty care wing, makes for an unsettling pause. "I guess the timeline –"

Casey gives a sharp shake of his head. "Yeah. Didn't make it."

God.

All those people. All that life. Entirely his fault.

He doesn't want to think about that right now.

He can't.

He shuffles, placing his hands on the mattress to push himself into a sitting position. The movement is jerkish, all his muscles stinging, and he ends up huffing from the effort.

"You might want to lie back down," Casey says, eyeing him warily. "You got some minor radiation poisoning, so they want you under supervision for the time being."

"Supervision?" Mobius waves him off, though he's already beginning to feel slightly lightheaded from his elevated position, "I'll be alright so long as I take it easy."

The look he gets is nothing short of incredulous. "You look like you've been sitting in the sun for ten hours straight. The void was seconds away from microwaving you."

"Yeah, but I can recover just fine while I'm working."

If anything, the incredulity grows. "You're literally only alive because you've had two blood transfusions in the past cycle. I really don't think going anywhere is a good idea."

Mobius swings his legs out of the bed, rolling his shoulders in the infirmary-ordained wear, and shakes his head. "Did you get put here on guard duty?

Casey blanches. "Uh – maybe? I mean, that and you're my friend, so I was worried. But the guard duty thing is also maybe true."

Mobius, now swaying a little precariously on his feet, offers a sharp smile. "Go figure." Shuffling towards the door, because this whole moving thing does hurt about as much as you'd expect after facing the unprotected force of the void, he makes a grab for the frame before he topples. He turns back to see Casey has followed him over, hovering with arms outstretched to catch. "Casey, seriously," he says, tone leaning towards firm, "I'm okay. I'm not staying here."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to stop you," comes the reply, light, "I don't think I could even if I wanted to. Just – let me make sure you get there okay."

They both know where 'there' is. There's only one place Mobius wants to be right now.

But the offer is surprisingly sweet, and rapidly dissolves any lingering resentment at being nannied. "Fine," he sighs, "Thank you."

They swing by property management on the way back, grabbing a loose uniform set that Mobius clambers into in one the locker rooms downstairs. He fights with the sleeves of the jacket, gritting his teeth as the rough material settles on his forearms, the skin a raw, blotchy red. But he refuses to wander around in what basically constitutes a nightgown, radiation burns or not. Testament to their ever-expanding wardrobe variety, attempting to breach the monotony and expand into the realm of personality, the outfit is different to usual – a slight mismatch to previous.

He likes the green-tinted shirt. Might swap to that long-term.

He steps out of the lift at R&A and proceeds to stumble, breath coming fast. Casey moves a shade closer, steadying him, and this time he doesn't begrudge the help. He murmurs his gratitude, before continuing to labour along the corridor, arms folded close to his chest.

It takes longer than usual to reach the entrance to the Observation Room.

Surprisingly, there are two figures against the backdrop of the void windows, both turning as he and Casey trudge through the entrance.

"Mobius," comes the first voice and, as expected, this is Loki. He takes several long strides across the centre, still in that otherworldly cape and god-like getup instead of his usual, and brings his hands up as if to cup Mobius' chin.

Mobius follows the movement naturally, tilting his head back. "I'm fine, don't worry."

Unsettled, Loki narrows his eyes, scrutinising every inch of his face. "Casey, has the medical wing discharged him? Or is this sheer impetuosity?"

"Uh –" Casey starts, quaking as Loki turns his stare on him, mouth set in a thin line.

"Oh, leave off, he tried to stop me," Mobius cuts in, bringing the focus of the anger back onto himself, because it's easy for him to see that the anger is anything but anger – more close to terror, which is distinctly less threatening. "And before you start lecturing me, I'm gonna go sit down. I'm not exactly in peak shape right now."

A swift nod, and then Loki is hovering by his side the entire walk over to the couch, each step taking double the usual time, and triple the usual effort.

B-15, the second person who'd been waiting by Loki's side, steps closer, watching as he collapses back. Loki sits on the other side, all traces of his usual comfortability lost, while she remains standing. "How are you feeling?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

He scrunches up his face, tilting his head side to side. "Eh. I've been better, but I've also been a hell of a lot worse. So not too bad."

A tiny smile, and her eyes soften. "You scared the shit out of me."

This is marked with a distinct lack of B-15-ness, so much so that he laughs, the movement jarring his bruised ribs. "Sorry. Casey says you were the first response, so thanks for that."

"If I have to watch you almost die again, Mobius, I'll leave you to your fate, you understand?" A breath. "Don't do that again. Please."

"Yeah," he replies, sobering. "Not happening again, don't worry."

A nod, followed immediately by a glare. "Loki and I did a coin toss on who got the honour of giving you the full lecture, so know that what he says, I stand by. This was just the warm-up."

"Hilarious." He tilts his head aside to catch how Loki is watching him. His face is set in grim determination, cloaking all the worry and confusion that had been so open when the branch was going, visage cracked into visible fear. All of it is tucked away now, the curtains drawn tight, only the faintest of signs peeking out through the gaps.

B-15 gives him a final once over, before striding over to Casey and taking him by the elbow, pulling him to the door. He distinctly hears her muttering something about a 'terrible job at guarding' before they vanish, leaving him alone with Loki.

He taps his foot. "So."

"So," Loki echoes, voice matter-of-fact. "To avoid drawing this out, I will get straight to the point."

"Wonderful," Mobius replies, wincing when it comes off as hostile. "Go ahead," he continues, more gently.

Loki considers him. "You are not a man so devoted you would forgo responsibility – far from it. Nor are you a man concerned with personal glory in this place. And you are certainly not stupid. So why in all of the Nine Realms did you think that," he gestures vaguely, "was a good idea?"

He blinks at him. Then he exhales, raising a shaky hand to rub the back of his neck. The friction stings, sending a dull ache curling around his upper back. "Would you believe me if I said I don't really know?"

"Yes. It's not uncommon to not understand your own motivations. But that doesn't mean that they aren't there."

"I just – I was..." he exhales, and lets his hands fall in his lap. "I'm really tired of all this," he says quietly. "Really tired. This looked like something that was finally pretty simple."

"And incredibly dangerous. Mobius, that mission was rated level six on paper, and that was with the required personnel."

"Yeah, but it wasn't... it wasn't this," he waves at Loki, and then around him, highlighting the branches that seem to shroud him even when they're invisible, removed from the projection. "This? I got no clue how we're gonna fix it. But the source? We finally had a chance to get some groundwork in place for when you get out, and I knew damn well that we wouldn't get approval if that report went through to Gamble, so it was just... I don't know. Wanted to do something for once."

Loki shifts closer, brows drawn close, surface anger already melting into the truth underneath. "You are doing something. Already. You're doing everything, Mobius."

"Am I?" he whispers. "Loki, look at this. It's been years. Hell, it's been half a decade since you left, and what have we got to show for it? The only thing that's actually worked is getting you access to here. Everything else that succeeded was you, and everything else that didn't succeed was me."

"You truly believe that?" Now it's disbelief, painted clearly.

"I mean... kind of? I'm not completely oblivious, 'course I know I've been keeping all the background stuff running, and the administration, but all the important parts? That's the team. Not me."

A heavy silence. And then Loki's face splinters into something earnest, and a little bit devastated. "I clearly have to apologise, because it seems I've failed you beyond belief, Mobius."

"Don't do this now." Mobius swallows, and it feels rather as though he's choking down glass, "Not after what I just did."

He ignores him. "Somewhere along the way, I have forgotten to convey just how important you are to this. To this whole team. To everything." Mobius meets his eyes, and finds them startlingly clear of previous ire, all his disquiet thawing into fondness. "To me."

Mobius can't reply. It's as though his body has elected to silence him entirely, to avoid the torrent of semi-formed thoughts from escaping in too exposed of a form.

"What you said to me," Loki continues, hesitant, his fingers knotted in his lap, "as the timeline was... as you were about to die. That is – it's... a sentiment I share, in equal measure. And I'm sorry that I haven't made that as clear as I should have. I was saving any grand proclamation for less dark times, and I see that may have caused some... misbalance."

"Oh, Loki, you're an idiot," Mobius says, face breaking into a subdued smile despite everything, watching him fight with the words. "It never had to be grand. And I did know. That's why saying it didn't feel like a big deal. Though, yeah, I should've probably not dropped that on you as I was about to evaporate."

"No, you certainly should not have," he replies, tone soft at his recipience. "I think I might have had to reanimate you so I could kill you myself."

Mobius laughs. "Reasonable."

"I would be perfectly amicable to return a similar sentiment vocally now," Loki says, some of that nervous energy returning, "if it would prove my seriousness on the matter."

"No, don't worry about it. It's not this... big thing. I only made it that way because... because I thought it would be my last chance. I'm happy where we are, knowing what we do, taking it one step at a time. It's comfortable."

"Comfortable," Loki echoes. "It is. Comfortable. More than."

Once again, Mobius is reduced to cursing the distance between them, because now would be a great time to wrap his arms around his shoulders and not let go for a long time.

Soon.

They stay like that – comfortable – for a while.

Mobius exhales. "I just... god. The timeline. I don't know how I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that."

"I am an equal part accountable," Loki says, "given it was my intervention."

"Don't be stupid. I put you in that situation, which wasn't fair. I knew what you'd choose when it came down to it."

"So did I." He's staring into the distance, eyes unfocused. "It was the wrong choice. Objectively."

Mobius considers how truthfully he should reply, and settles on fully. "Yeah. It was the wrong choice." He pauses. "You could... you could see all those people, right? Alive on that branch?"

"Yes."

"And you're... talking this well?"

"No."

"Glad we're on the same page, at least. I think I'll feel worse when it's all over, because at the minute it's kind of hard to quantify." His voice trembles, throat aching as he fights to combat it, "One branch being my fault doesn't seem too bad at the minute, considering how many we're losing a day. Does that make me a horrible person?"

Loki's lips twitch upwards. "A selfless man can wear selfishness well, on occasion. What you did has put the universe in a better position, it's undeniable. B-15 told me the tests they've done on the source have all come up positive, and it's far beyond what your teams had been working on beforehand."

"So, what, I can justify this as a means to an end? That really doesn't make me feel better."

"No," Loki says gently, "it doesn't."

And Mobius trusts him on this because, of all people, Loki knows about making the hard decision.

"May I put forward a request?" Loki says suddenly. Mobius indicates for him to go ahead, and he proceeds, "Is there any possible way you could come up with a way for me to interact with my environment? It would have proved useful in this previous scenario, amongst others, to be able to sound an alarm."

Mobius furrows his brow. "Is there no way you can do a solid projection? Like a duplication cast, or –"

"That is very fickle magic, and not quite how a solid appearance would work," he says. "Besides, I think my energy might be capped at the current level, because no matter what I attempted on that branch, I could not proceed further without risking the universe."

He raises a hand to cover his mouth, thinking. "Maybe… maybe if we combine the two. Your magic, and some of the tech we've got here. I could probably get some kind of molecule emulator, link it up to the illusion. It wouldn't work as an actual body for you, not in a feeling kind of way, but you'd be able to touch stuff."

Loki perks up. "That sounds suitable."

"Yeah? I'll give it a go, but we might have to wait for some free time, and for when Casey isn't busy so I can beg him for help."

A laugh. "I'm sure if you indulge in some more gardening equipment, he may indeed drop everything to assist."

"Yeah," Mobius says, watching the way the light shines through Loki's teeth, chest aching with a feeling too soft to touch, "I think he might."

Disregarding any not-so-great side effects of the actual acquisition of the power source (not that Mobius is having any success trying to forget any of it), having a genuine way to power the Tree is a huge leap forward. A massive motivator, where before they'd been scrambling for purchase in the soil, barely clinging on to half-formed hopes of mechanisms and magic-based systems. All of that has simplified, wiping an entire directory of problems out of the file system.

Now what had been a spattering of different purposes becomes unified, an arrowhead directing them to the horizon and dissolving into nothing far ahead.

Get Loki out.

So begins what could be described as a descent into nothing but action. All the planning, five years of it, singling down to these few ideas, contained within a single folder. They work in order, all hands on deck, to try each and every one.

Timeslipping, the first of the bunch, really doesn't work. And with Loki so wiped out from attempting that, and proceeding to exhaust himself further by rescuing Mobius from the Richards variant, they elect to shuffle the order of ideas, starting with some of the ones requiring little input from the god of time himself.

The first one, unfortunately, does require a different god.

A door slam to the face and a muffled, "absolutely not!" is the greeting Mobius gets on his first cycle back from recovery – chosen specifically for this task as a kind of sick punishment for his previous misstep. Which is reasonable, but doesn't mean he feels honoured for having drawn the short straw.

"Sylvie," he says, hoping his words will carry through the thin steel, "I promise it's not too much."

It swings back open and she rounds on him, face alight with fury. "No, you promised you wouldn't drag me into this multiverse stuff. That was the deal! I'm just living here."

Mobius is not particularly focused on her words, his eyes drawn back into the darkness of her room, where there's a distinct dust floating through the air, the floors covered in white sheets. "Are you – are you redecorating?"

Sylvie glares at him. Then she retreats with a hiss, holding the door open and muttering. "Your TVA is ugly. If I'm staying here I want it to be passably nice."

She's torn up half the room, the wallpaper peeled away and plaster half-solidified around the place. The tiled kitchen area has been ripped up and replaced with smaller squares of porcelain, in shades from red and pink to green and blue. "I'm gonna go ahead and guess you didn't get this from our storage units."

"There are plenty of timelines these days," she returns. "But if you're worried, don't be. All of this is from apocalypses. Old habit."

He gives a vague nod, still spinning slowly to take it all in.

He hates to say it, but it looks... really nice. Like it might actually be fun, by the time she's finished.

An inhale. "You heard about Loki being here, right?"

"B told me," she says, and it's strange hearing that nickname in her voice. Pronounced with respect, and certainly with liking for whatever strange friendship they've built.

Though Mobius isn't one to talk about friendships built on unusual beginnings. "Been to see him yet?"

"I was putting it off," she answers shortly. Breaking eye contact, she fiddles with the watch on her wrist, brought from her timeline. It doesn't work here. "I thought I might either yell at him or... I don't know. Start crying or something stupid."

He nods. "Fair."

The slight relaxation in her shoulders vanishes, replaced by wariness. He's reminded of a stray cat, dancing the line between wanting the food and the warmth, but not quite ready for the touching yet. More like a Loki he might know, now, than the character from before. "You're not here to make small talk, so spit it out."

He tilts his head. "Y'know, I could probably pull some strings if you were interested, get you a direct connection to the facility management department. Would make all this," he gestures at the room, at the furniture in varying states of covered reconstruction, "a lot easier. Access to pretty much whatever supplies you want"

She folds her arms. "I am well aware of your history of bribery, Agent Mobius." She looks at the floor. Then back up to his face. "And it's working. That does sound useful."

His face splits into a smile. "Knew it."

"Depending," she says pointedly, "on what you want me to do."

So that's how Sylvie ends up out of space and out of time, alone on the pedestal of rock with Loki.

Mobius would have loved to go with her, if only because it's a reason to see him, but they only have one suit, and Loki very enthusiastically advised that she do not attempt to travel via magic, as he did.

It is odd, now he can project into the TVA, that he's effectively able to be in both places at once – on the throne and with the team at the same time. B-15 suggested in turn that it's probably best for him not to be physically awake for this process, so he's elected to maintain the illusion throughout, rather than cling to what physicality remains in the centre of the Tree.

"Okay, Sylvie, you ready?" O.B. says, tapping at his keyboard.

Her voice rings through the comms. "Uh. Yes? Maybe?"

Loki, hovering across the worktop from Mobius, raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I am so glad to have you in charge of reassembling my physical and mental connection. Such gripping confidence."

"If you keep talking I might not even try," comes the reply, sharp but heatless.

Loki grins in response, catching Mobius' eye as he does so. He seems elated at having a chance to speak with Sylvie again and, for all her earlier reluctance, she seems to be fairly happy too.

"Right, so when you've found all of the pieces of him, you need to draw them out of the universe, down into the centre. That should give his body a chance to reconnect, and we can pull him out."

"Right. On it. What happens if I mess up?"

"Best case scenario is he dies. Worst case is the universe dies."

"Oh. Lovely."

"But I can keep track of everything, so I'll let you know if you're doing anything wrong."

A small noise of apprehensive disbelief.

"It's loaded up, so whenever you want to give it a shot, go for it." O.B. steps back from the monitor, making room for A-145 to take his usual position reading off the radiation graphs.

"Right. Okay." Sylvie seems to be psyching herself up.

"If it makes you feel better, I won't blame you if you accidentally kill me," Loki says, lips upturned wicked smile.

"That is doing the opposite of helping right now." Half a minute or so of shuffling, waiting, and then she speaks again. "Going in three."

Three seconds.

The monitors displaying the Tree light up in a luminous green, the white branches chased away by the strength of Sylvie's enchantment.

"Great!" O.B. hurries to the other end of the room and beckons Loki over. Mobius follows, hovering to the side as O.B. points at the screen. "See all of that? I'm pretty sure it matches all our maps. We just need to untangle it from the branches and that should disconnect you from Time. Sylvie?"

A shaky exhale. "I'm not – I don't think it's possible for me to do this."

"It's exactly the same as when you regained B-15's memories." Though this could read as condescending, O.B. phrases it as such an object of admiration that it comes across as heartening, even to Mobius, who is in no way involved with the task.

"Yeah, but the TVA mind-blocks are... well, shit. This isn't just a plastic sheet separating things. This is the literal universe. It's too confusing to pick out which bits I'm aiming for."

"That's fine," Loki cuts in, before O.B. can press further. "We were only trying for a magical route as a best-case extraction."

"Yeah, sorry. This isn't going to work. I'm not a medical surgeon."

Mobius seems to have the realisation at the same time as B-15, the only other person who spends most of their time combing the timelines, and is fairly aware of what's involved in them. "Strange?" she puts forward, watching for his reaction.

"We could give it a shot, maybe. He's the only one I can think of with any background in both medicine and sorcery."

"Who's this?" Loki asks.

"Doctor Strange. Some guy, you would've met him if you got further in your time stream."

"Basically a magic doctor," B-15 substitutes. "Could be able to combine those fields and separate you."

So, Sylvie comes back to the TVA, nowhere near as tetchy as he expects her to be and, if anything, elevated by her attempts to help out. The moment she returns, she gestures for Loki to step aside, starting a hushed conversation in the corner of the room. It's evident she wants, but cannot afford, the privacy of another location, so the team vacates pretty quickly. Mobius throws one last glance over his shoulder to ascertain the discussion is peaceful and, sated by Loki's reassuring nod in his direction, leaves them to it.

That's the Sylvie-based extraction crossed off of the list.

A Doctor Strange potential added on.

No time to waste before moving to the next one.

While B-15 is allocated the duty of locating a suitable Strange variant for the task, the rest of them start on the other tech-based options. This would not often be the hardest job in the universe, but given O.B. is largely incapacitated working on the entanglement device – which they know will work, and will work well, and will potentially kill Loki if it's not finished within the given timeframe of about a linear month – the rest of the department is left to fare for themselves.

It never hit Mobius quite how often he used to go to O.B. for debugging issues until now, when his knocks go unanswered.

Poor Casey ends up picking up most of the slack, working overtime to decode any issues they have with elements of the mechanics or science, and ends up looking so haggard by the end of one cycle that Mobius enforces a mandatory question limit, three per day per person, so he doesn't get too overwhelmed by the constant request for aid.

Loki, as it turns out, learnt far more than just quantum physics in the loops. He proves himself to be an apt programmer, which comes in handy given that coding is something Mobius has avoided as long as he could manage. For good reason.

"Go back. You missed a semicolon."

"Loki, I saw it, I'm gonna go over in a sec and –"

"That's what you said last time, and then you wasted several hours wondering why the lower half of your code wasn't working." Loki, next to him and scrutinising his every line, has not been the most pleasant assistance.

"Yeah, but this time I actually was gonna do it," he huffs, backtracking several lines to insert the missing punctuation. "Happy?"

"Very."

Mobius breathes out. "Okay, let me run the simulation again. It should work this time."

The simulation does not work. At all.

"Oh, wonderful. You have made it worse. Look, that would disintegrate me at five times the previous rate," Loki indicates the results, finding the whole thing more than amusing.

"You won't be laughing when I actually have to implement this in a week, and the sim results look like that."

He's right, in that neither of them are laughing in a week, when Casey's built the mechanical casing that houses the system to reverse Time at the Tree, and Mobius' code is running the whole thing.

The hope is that reversing the entropy at the Tree will simply reverse the multiverse in its entirety, everything retreating back, so they can return Loki to his previous state of simply holding the branches instead of being part of them.

It doesn't work. It also doesn't disintegrate him, so that's a win. But it doesn't work.

Next is singularity filtering.

Doesn't work.

Dimensional shunting.

Doesn't work.

Doctor Strange, when they finally find a variant who is happy to attempt the procedure, decides it's too risky to try any magic-based extractions.

So that doesn't work.

Temporal warping.

Doesn't work, and draws such an animal noise of pain from Loki's lips that Mobius proceeds to scratch all ideas even vaguely related to it off of the list.

It's tough, to put it lightly. But they have each other, and that does immeasurable wonders for keeping going. They take turns carrying the burden, passing it back and forth when the weight grows too heavy.

Some days Loki is sullen, stalking about the perimeter of his allocated space like a tiger holed up in a cage, firing out snide remarks in a snappish, miserable mood. It's these times where Mobius has to brave facing the brunt of that, to provide some measure of comfort, to point out everything that they've got planned. And, on days when it really is too bad for Loki to do much more than attempt not to fall to pieces, he can sit there with him.

On the flip side, having this system gives Mobius space to have his own bad days, without fear of it impacting the team or his work. Loki gives him space to do that, and strengthens himself to hold out hope when Mobius finds that, no matter how hard he tries, the future seems nothing more than bleak, acting as a pillar of support.

It works, having that transaction. Having someone there when you're at your worst.

Until misfortune strikes, and they're both at their worst at the same time, and nobody is there to lug more than their fair share of the weight.

Mobius heads down to the Observation Room, another of their final ideas having not worked, to find Loki laid on the floor, arms folded and hair strewn out across the terrazzo, illusion faint from the unsuccessful effort of the cycle. He's not unused to finding him sat in odd positions, but the sag of his shoulders indicates this is more along the lines of dejected fatigue.

So, instead of sitting nearby, on one of the couches or the stools, Mobius lies down beside him.

They stare at the ceiling for a long time. Too exhausted to speak. Too worried to sleep. Just... waiting.

"I wanted you to have a normal life," Loki says, breaking the dull silence. "After I left. That was the plan. You could go onto a timeline and actually... live."

"I am living. Right here."

"I know. But it's not... it's not exactly real."

Mobius doesn't grace that with an answer. He thinks of that long-distant conversation with Sylvie. "Say you got out of this tomorrow. Universe is fine, you're fine, everything is good." He breathes in. "What do you do?"

Loki hums in thought. "I hadn't really thought about it. I spent so long in the loops, near the end, where I had fairly resigned myself to not escaping. As illustrated, I was in that mindset for long enough that I'm not sure I will ever break out of it. Certainly not by the time I get out." A pause. "If I get out."

"Nope, none of that. Let's leave the ifs for another day."

"Mobius. You have to... you have to consider what –"

"No. We've talked about this."

"And you're saying no without considering the other option, because you know I am not coming out on top when you weigh the options up." He turns over, eyes searching. "We're down to barely a handful of ideas. And these are the last ones, the ones put at the back because they're so far-fetched. I don't –" his voice is rough, "– I don't think they're going to work."

The small part of Mobius that agrees grows painfully bright at the acknowledgement. "Then we hold out for O.B.. If he can make this… entanglement thing in time, then we can get you out that way."

"Has he shown you the timeline projections for that? It's not going to be ready."

"It will," Mobius says firmly. "I trust him."

It's pity in the look Loki throws at him, ear resting on the ground to face him. But, "Okay," he says simply.

And that's the end of that discussion.

It's probably only a week or so later, when they're really, really getting to the tail end of absolutely every possible idea in existence, that Mobius begins to feel completely and utterly hopeless. And terrified. And exhausted. And just… defeated.

The final nail in the head is when Loki's condition, which held out so well for so long, begins to crumble.

"– you have clearly formatted it wrong somewhere. Here, hand it over."

Mobius, loath to not comply with that request given Loki's lack of ability to reciprocate any tussle for physical control, angles the device to face him. He's finally gotten a chance to start work on the body-duplication mechanism, in wake of the lack of other productive ideas, and it's slow going.

"Ah, see," Loki presses onwards, "you've put the – uh – the…" He tails away.

Mobius is pretty sure his heart stops. He watches Loki freeze, whole face morphing into concentration.

The silver-tongued god finally loses his words.

"I don't… Sorry. I have no idea what I was saying."

Both of them know what that means on a larger scale.

Both of them ignore it.

"Don't worry, let's go through it again. Help you find your footing."

And so it continues.

Loki is clearly trying very hard not to display any fear, for all of their sakes, but it's a little hard to ignore the way his eyes widen a fraction every time it happens, a fumble where there should never be.

All of it combusts, narrowing down into the single moment Mobius has been dreading, in a relatively anti-climactic way.

"Oh," Loki says, out of nowhere, one cycle in which they're yet again working on the body-duplicator, both hunched over a counter.

"Oh?" Mobius says, straightening to scan him.

Voice far too casual, Loki shrugs. "I think I can't access my body anymore."

"You… what?"

Another shrug. "I can't feel it."

Oh no. Too soon. Far too soon.

"Can you –" his mouth is dry, he wets his lips and tries again, "– can you go try? Properly?"

Loki gives a nod. He vanishes, then returns before the afterimage of his silhouette has faded from Mobius' vision. "No. I believe that might have been it."

"You can't get back?"

A shake of his head. "The connection was quite pronounced, previously. It is definitely not currently something I have access to."

"Are you a hundred percent sure?"

Loki is eying him with sorrow, when it should be reversed. "I can't feel the timelines in my hands, nor open my eyes. That is likely proof enough, given it matches predictions."

Task forgotten, Mobius sets his screwdriver aside. "That's… bad."

"Yes. It is."

They gaze at each other.

"What now?" Loki asks, voice quiet.

Mobius sighs. "I don't know, Loki. I really don't know."

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :D