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It took Mobius more than a hundred loops to force Loki to break the script.
“For you. For all of us.”
Growing numb to the words after already hearing them so many times, Mobius pounded his fist frantically on the thick glass, crying out in desperation, “Loki, no! Who even said you had to choose this, huh?”
Loki had already turned away from them, had already raised his hands to begin prising open the heavy doors.
But then he hesitated… and turned back.
Heart leaping to his throat, Mobius froze in shock, as Loki uttered something he hadn’t done in any of the previous loops.
“You did, Mobius.”
His voice wavered noticeably as he spoke his name, then came a brief reappearance of the same tear-filled smile he’d issued only moments prior… although this time it was for Mobius alone; Sylvie already having dashed back upstairs to the observation room.
Stunned and dumbstruck — both at Loki’s unprecedented words, and at the fact he’d finally managed to effectively exert some influence over these simulated events — Mobius stared almost detachedly as Loki again wrenched the doors apart, and absently braced for the loop to end.
It was programmed to do so the moment Loki set foot out onto that gangway, because by that stage it was too late for anything Mobius said or did to potentially have any impact. And there was little point in watching Loki destroy the loom and ascend to glorious godhood on repeat… other than a blatant indulgence in ill-advised masochism.
The all-too-familiar sense of displacement overtook him as he was tugged from this loop into the next, followed by the same old chime echoing throughout the observation room, and the same old automated voice.
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
It wasn’t possible for the time cell to go back any further than this point, a fact that was both mystifying and troubling, and fast driving Mobius insane. If he attempted to do so, his tempad glitched and crashed, requiring a forced reset.
He just knew that it was Loki’s fault, somehow; a result or residual effect of whatever it was that had actually transpired that godsawful day.
However, it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he could go and ask OB about. If he did, he’d have no choice but to admit what he was up to.
As always, Mobius didn’t so much as glance at the overloading loom as it was revealed to them beyond the windows, unlike back when this had all happened for real… when the horror of the incandescent glut of tangled timelines was so mesmerising, he hadn’t even registered Loki moving towards the airlock stairs until he was well beyond reach.
But that certainly wasn’t the case now, of course. Each and every time he ran the loop, he only ever had eyes for Loki.
Loki who was pale and wan, and plainly exhausted beyond all belief. Whose torment was written all over his waxen features, and conveyed in the worlds-weary heaviness of his every movement.
Even after only a handful of rounds, there had been no doubt in Mobius’ mind that this wasn’t the same Loki who had dashed into that room only moments prior, intent upon getting those doors open so someone — anyone — could get out there with the throughput multiplier. Something had happened to him, something that defied any reasonable explanation, though he was yet to come up with any hypotheses that could be feasibly investigated.
That was partly the reason he was subjecting himself to reliving this moment, over and over.
For ‘research’... or so he told himself.
Yet his true motivation was something far more personal, and humiliatingly pointless.
“Loki, wait,” he called out as usual, and as usual Loki put on a burst of speed… though a little earlier than he normally would, perhaps?
Not wasting a moment, he dashed after him, and this time he got close enough that his fingertips nearly grazed Loki’s shoulder as he started down the steps. But Loki still beat him, far too agile and swift to compete with, and the airlock door closed just as Mobius’ shoulder butted against it.
“No, Loki! Wait!” he cried, panickedly groping for the exact phrasing of the question he’d thrown at him the previous attempt, “Who- who said you had to choose this, huh?”
Loki turned much more sharply this time, and Mobius almost stepped back at the unexpectedness, right into Sylvie who’d been coming up behind him.
“You did, Mobius,” Loki said again, words as weighted as that painfully mournful smile Mobius so abhorred. “And as such, I finally know what kind of god I need to be.”
He took a step closer to the door and raised his hand, as though momentarily tempted to touch the window beside Mobius’ face.
“For you-”
“No.”
“... For all of us.”
* * *
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Loki, don’t. Stop. Don’t you dare move a muscle.”
But of course he began running, exactly as he’d been doing for dozens of loops now, likely a result of Mobius’ palpable urgency that had been mounting exponentially alongside his helpless desperation.
“You don’t get to make this choice. I don’t care what I said to you!”
At the top of the stairs, he yanked Loki back by the shoulder, hating how rough he was becoming. But in truth, it scarcely mattered anyway… Loki would always get away, without fail.
Besides, it was only pretend, all of it. Which was far too easy to forget at times, so invested was he in achieving a meaningful outcome.
“Loki!” he cried, almost by habit, as the stubborn bastard predictably wrested himself from Mobius’ grasp, all but flying down the steps with a rapid clattering of footfall.
Mobius gave chase, as he usually opted to (unless he couldn’t summon the effort, and decided a restart was more favourable) and actually managed to get his arm through the airlock door this time. But a blast of viridescent force knocked him back, and Sylvie caught him around the shoulders, righting him even as he dashed forward and smacked his fist against the glass.
“Dammit!” he cried, and reset the loop, without even waiting for Loki to deliver his devastating farewell.
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Loki!” he forced out as he darted forward, but Loki’s eyes widened as he stepped out of Mobius’ reach, and he turned to sprint for the stairs.
For fuck’s sake, I’m so tired of this.
It was with a weary sigh that he surged after him, already knowing it was too late.
“Loki, stop,” he called halfheartedly. “I’ve had enough of this ‘glorious purpose’ bullshit, I need you to talk to me!”
It wasn’t too different from anything he’d said before, and like usual Loki ignored him until the airlock was sealed. Despairing to the point of not even caring to look at him, Mobius turned away with a forceful sigh, backing up to sag heavily against the unforgiving metal surface. His chin dropped, eyes closing, as he heard Sylvie’s footsteps start down the stairs.
“Mobius?”
Head shooting up with a startled gasp at Loki’s voice so near, he spun around, and found him right there, right up close to the other side of the glass. His eyes flicked to Sylvie approaching behind him, then back to Mobius.
“There can be no more talk,” Loki said with heartbreaking defeat, and a helpless shake of his head. “All I’ve done is talk, and think, and try. For hundreds of years.”
Initially, Mobius was confused, thinking he was referring to his whole life in its entirety.
But as he stared through the thick pane into those large, dewy eyes that, up close like that, were so obviously strained by unthinkable hardship endured, he finally got an inkling of the truth.
The breath was punched from him as his knees went weak, and Loki smiled that hated sorrowful smile at perceiving his realisation.
“And now, I’m choosing to be the god I need to be. For you. For all of us…”
* * *
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Loki. I know what you’ve done. I- I know what you’ve been through. But please, I need you to not go out th– no wait, stop!”
Gods, is there any way to hold him back?
Many, many attempts at physically grabbing him had yielded no results. The moment Mobius tried to lunge for him, Loki’s near-inhuman reflexes kicked in, and he always jerked back and got away too damn quickly. If Mobius ever tried to creep in closer, slow and surreptitious, Loki would freeze, eyeing him like a skittish animal, and similarly bolt.
And nothing he could say stopped him either, of course. But he’d never truly expected it would.
“I know you’ve been at this for centuries,” he called, as he chased after him, and as had become usual, Loki’s step faltered at his words. “I know you see no other option. But I need you to–”
This time, however, he cut himself off, unexpectedly overwhelmed by a godsdamned tsunami of crippling weariness. A pitiful noise that was part sigh, part groan, and a hint of a sob burst from him unbidden, and he stopped short, two steps shy of the bottom.
“I need you.”
Halfway through the airlock door, Loki stumbled to a halt. Mobius’ heart leaped… began pounding deafeningly.
Loki never stopped before closing that door.
“I need you, Loki,” he beseeched. “I don’t want you to go.”
Throat seizing up on the last couple of words, he swallowed hard, a lengthy pause stretching out as time seemed to stand still.
Sylvie hesitated at the top of the stairs, hanging back as though she knew something was up.
Then slowly, slowly Loki turned to face him, his eyes almost hopeful.
“I don’t want to go,” he murmured, choked up and tremulous. “I need you, too.”
A lengthy, intense, unbroken stare, and Mobius almost allowed himself to wonder whether he’d actually, finally-
But no.
Loki’s chin lifted resolutely, his shoulders squaring, even as his eyes welled with tears.
“Yet… I also know what kind of god I need to be. For you,” he said with emphasis, and it was then that he hastily darted through the door, closing it behind him with a clang of finality.
“For all of us.”
* * *
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Don’t go, Loki,” Mobius blurted immediately. “I need you.”
He stepped towards him, hands held up unthreateningly, and tears were already welling in Loki’s eyes.
“I know what you’re about to do. But I need you to stay. Don’t go. Please.”
“I- I have to…”
“No. What you have to do is-” He almost said ‘talk about this’, but he was already very well versed in the potential responses that would initiate. “You have to… you have to let me share the burden. If I told you to choose this, then let me share it too. There has to be something I can do for you.”
Loki shook his head, backing away towards the stairwell railing, though he was tentative and uncertain — far more so than usual. The rest of the group stood back, watching wordlessly, but Mobius dared not take his eyes off Loki for half a moment.
“No, Mobius.” His voice shook, and he swallowed dryly before continuing. “You’ve already done more for me than you could possibly imagine. But now… it’s time for me to do something for you.”
“Not if it means that I can’t ever see you again!” he burst out, almost a yell, then felt awful as Loki flinched a little.
“I- I don’t… I…” he stammered, like a frightened child, and as Mobius inched closer, he took another cautious step backwards.
“Loki… I care about you way too much to let you do this,” he pressed on, unsteady but impassioned, and now that he’d gotten this far, he figured he might as well go for broke. “I love you.”
Whichever way he meant it, and whatever way it was interpreted, it most certainly wasn’t a lie. And the sight of Loki’s eyes flying wide would have been adorable, if Mobius had been telling him this in person.
In reality.
Perhaps he might’ve brazenly slipped it into a lull in conversation whilst they were sharing a drink, enjoying a relaxed evening in each other’s company… a perfect moment where lost inhibitions may have led to joyous revelation.
But here, after gods knew how many loops spent trying to convince a mere simulated version of him to not sacrifice himself to save the multiverse, the endearing expression only bored a deeper hole in his heart.
It also hurt keenly to learn what reaction he likely would’ve gotten, if he’d ever had the opportunity to say it directly.
Tears were spilling from Loki’s eyes now, and Mobius was distraught that he’d caused that… then reminded himself that this wasn’t real, and dared to step in closer.
Loki let him.
“I love you,” he said again, firmly and decisively, and Loki swallowed with difficulty once more, his next breath audibly catching. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I must,” Loki whispered hoarsely, though it was clear in his remorseful gaze that he longed for an alternative.
“Maybe that’s true,” Mobius allowed after a pause, his voice quietening as he closed the last of the distance. The loom rumbled ominously beyond the observation windows, yet at that moment, it was completely inconsequential. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing you were here with me.”
Choking on a sob, Loki reached out for him in desperation, and Mobius caught him as he fell into his arms.
“I’m scared,” he rasped, almost in panic, “I don’t want to be alone.”
Mobius’ eyes burned, and he blinked rapidly.
“I know. I know, Loki.” And gods, did he ever. “But you won’t be alone. Not really. You’ll still have me… have us,” he promised, referring to the others who continued observing in eerie silence.
Mobius idly wondered whether anyone other than Sylvie had ever so much as moved, as the loops now numbering in the hundreds had each played out. It had never exactly been a priority for him to check.
The further thought occurred that he no longer had any idea of how long he’d even been doing this. The tempad display would tell him, of course, but he found he wasn’t terribly keen to know.
“We’re always gonna be here for you, watching and- and waiting,” he told Loki, his voice growing rough. “I’m always gonna be talking to you… yapping about everything from OB’s latest niche gadget, to all the inane bullshit in council meetings.” Loki made a strangled sound that was probably intended to be a laugh, and Mobius’ arms tightened around him. “Even if you can’t hear me, from wherever you are,” he insisted.
Then it struck him.
He drew away slowly, Loki releasing him with great reluctance and staring at him with tearfilled eyes.
“Where are you going, anyway?” Mobius queried softly. “You’re about to go tear a rift in space-time and pull the timelines through with you. To the End of Time, am I right?”
Shocked by his apparent clairvoyance, it took Loki several seconds to confirm with a nod.
“And is that where you’ll stay?” he couldn’t help but wonder, because it was one of many things no one at the TVA knew for certain, and it drove him crazy, each and every day.
“I believe that I’ll likely need to,” Loki admitted, then a bare hint of a smile graced his ashen face. “But perhaps one day, we will meet there in peace,” he murmured meaningfully, sparking a long-forgotten memory of a conversation from far more carefree days.
The loom made a dreadful thunderous noise, and Loki’s eyes widened in horror this time, a sharp glance out the window preceding him using short-range teleport to take himself directly to the airlock below, the metallic bang of the closing door audible even over the terrifying sounds beyond the reinforced glass.
* * *
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Don’t go, Loki. I need you.”
“I must, I must. It’s the only way, Mobius…”
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Let me come with you.”
“No, it’s impossible. And you’re needed here. I need you here.”
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Why won’t you at least say goodbye?”
“I… I can’t…”
“Welcome, He Who Remains.”
“Loki–”
“Mobius?”
Jarred by a voice that wasn’t Loki’s, Mobius started dramatically and spun around, finding B-15 — not of the fabricated scenario, but there in the flesh — her tempad in hand, and standing before a scarlet time cell door.
“How did you…”
“I have override privileges. Or had you forgotten?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
She cast her eye around at the scene, which had frozen like a tableau upon her entry, and sighed, shaking her head in displeasure.
“Do you realise you’ve been looping the same two minute scenario for almost twenty-three hours?”
Her voice was stern, her expression unimpressed… but there was a softness around her eyes that Mobius was practised at finding.
“You’re coming up to seven hundred loops,” B’s tone gentled as she spoke, and she began moving towards him. “That kind of behaviour will earn you a one-way ticket to the psychology department, if the wrong person finds out. What the hell are you trying to do?”
“Research,” he bit out defensively. “You know time cell scenarios are malleable if you keep at it long enough. And I… I- I needed to know some things.”
Regarding him for a long moment, eyes that narrowed in scrutiny soon gave way to open empathy.
“You couldn’t have stopped him, Mobius.”
Her astute and candid assessment stole his breath away… and after several long moments, his will to remain standing was similarly sapped. Folding in on himself like a dropped marionette, Mobius slouched to the floor, heedless of indignity as he sprawled on his side in listless exhaustion.
Undeterred, B-15 drew up beside him, then after a pause, lowered herself as well, despite the encumbrance of her new council uniform.
They sat in silence for a while, B staring up sombrely at a frozen, miserable Loki, whilst Mobius gazed ahead sightlessly, mentally replaying the hundreds of failures and lamenting the fruitless waste of an entire day-cycle.
Yet deep down, he knew that it was something he’d needed to do
“I had to try,” he eventually said as much, his voice gravelly with both emotion and fatigue.
“I know,” she said simply. “But has trying made you feel better, or worse?”
Mobius considered the question for a long moment. Obviously he felt awful, for too numerous reasons to list, but in the long run, did it help to know that Loki couldn’t have been stopped?
“I don’t know,” he replied at length, and she nodded understandingly.
“Yeah. And that’s okay, Mobius.”
“I did get some potentially interesting information, though,” Mobius told her, lifting his head from the floor to look at her. “I think Loki might still be at the End of Time. He seemed to think that he’d need to stay there indefinitely.”
A beat or two of pensive silence, then:
“He Who Remains,” B mused quietly, eyes raised to Loki’s haggard face once more.
A Loki Who Remains, he thought sadly.
But before he could fall too deep into unwelcome reminiscence, B-15 frowned, turning around to peer down at him.
“How did you manipulate things so much, that he talked to you that openly?”
“Uh… um, just some good, ol’ fashioned honesty,” Mobius mumbled, rubbing his face in an attempt to conceal freshly tearing eyes.
“Well, you’ve given us a place to start, if nothing else,” B-15 said encouragingly. “What else did he tell you?”
As Mobius thought back over everything — staccato flashes of hundreds of moments passing through his mind like a microfiche film — a warm light of hope flickered to life, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.
He'd felt nothing of the sort in far, far too long, and he all but basked in it.
“… I can probably have a report on your desk by tomorrow,” he said tentatively, lips upturned with a trace of a smile as he pushed himself to sit.
“No,” she said sternly, though her eyes were unquestionably fond. “Food and sleep first. Then you can get to it.”
With a quick, smirking grin, she fought her way back to standing against that unenviable fitted skirt, then held out a hand to him. Mobius allowed her to pull him to his feet, already knowing her strength was undepleted, even after her promotion to an occupation much less physical.
Steadying him as he listed to one side, she peered at him anxiously as he closed his eyes against the dizziness of fatigue, and weakness from low blood sugar.
“No more time cells, Mobius,” she insisted. “Not by yourself, anyway.”
His instinct was to argue, but he knew it would be pointless.
“‘Kay. I promise,” he sighed, though his resignation was tempered by the coy smile that followed. “What d'you say you join me for… uh, breakfast?” he asked, a grimace of uncertainty denoting his confusion as to the time of day-cycle.
A smile lit up her face.
“Lucky guess,” she chuckled knowingly, summoning a new ‘door, and she gently but firmly ushered him through.
She needn’t have worried, however, for as much as the self-destructive part of him longed to gaze at Loki’s face one last time, Mobius refused to look back.
Equipped with what he now knew, he'd finally been blessed with the chance to move forwards.