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Time was endless, and time was finite. The world was ending, and the world had ended. Ragnarök. A story familiar to the trickster god Loki.
Since he’d learnt to control his time slipping, he’d lived hundreds of earth lifetimes, stuck between apocalypses like an unwieldy Midgard child with their head wedged between the balustrades. He’d learnt about earth children from watching Mobius’ kin. The strange and chaotic creatures reminded Loki of himself and his brother at their age. How small the gap between man and God became on observation.
He’d spent lifetimes learning complex equations, trying and failing to save the world in a million different ways, yet one conversation with Mobius put everything into perspective. Loki had always been burdened with a glorious purpose. He was born for death.
He knew that if there were to be a universe where free will existed outside of the sacred timeline, it would be inhospitable for him, as he was the only one who could bring it about. After his conversation with Mobius, he knew what had to be done. That didn’t mean he was willing to do it. He needed a moment to ponder the weight of the burden.
He moved in time. Not everyone got to choose the moment of their death. Loki would take his privileges where he could. He was a god. He deserved a death with dignity. He knew ‘death’ was an overdramatised word for what he may experience, but what was death if not a separation from the rest of the universe?
The first place and time on his pit stop before the end was The TVA automat with Mobius in the aftermath of X-5’s interrogation. The man had landed a solid punch to X-5’s jaw, a well-deserved one. Loki wasn’t sure why he chose the moment. It felt right. It was close enough to the Mobius he knew before the end of all things, but far enough that the sense of doom and hopelessness hadn’t yet settled in.
He wasn’t sure where he’d landed in the conversation. He hardly remembered the discussion, something about rage, past lives and good things. It’d been decades since the day had happened in Loki’s recollection. He’d returned to it a handful of times in his quest to save the TVA and the million branching timelines, but without any clear purpose.
In all his time slipping, he rarely set aside intervals to eat or sleep. He stopped by the automat on occasion for a moment of reprieve. Loki’s eyes were drawn to the contrast of the too-green key-lime pie and the red of Mobius’ swollen knuckles.
Blunt force trauma had never been Loki’s favourite approach but, there was something real to the brutality. His violence had always been more akin to magic tricks: a sleight of hand, a knife to the back, all smoke and mirrors. Mobius had never learned to be tactful. Maybe that was how the man broke his nose. It’d set crooked, adding an edge to him that Loki found curious and endearing. His people had always been attracted to warfare.
“Where were you just now?” Mobius asked. His face contorted in concern at having watched Loki time slip.
“Doesn’t matter.” Loki was curt.
Time had a habit of falling apart around him if he stayed in any place too long. Running from time had given him a sense of forward momentum. Staying still felt unnatural. A ticking clock loomed large overhead, oscillating like a pendulum. Time worked differently in the TVA.
“I thought we fixed that when I agreed to lose all my skin—.”
“Nobody made you do that,” Loki argued.
“No, but someone had to, and I didn’t see any other takers, so what? It didn’t work?”
Loki didn’t have time for this.
“You told me once I could be whatever I wanted to be. Do you still believe that?” The god asked, cutting to the quick of his dilemma.
Mobius shot him a strange look and reclined in the metal chair. The man looked as at home at the small table as Loki would strewn across an Asgardian chaise longue about to eat grapes and drink libations.
“What the shit are we talking about, Loki?”
“It doesn’t matter. I need you to answer the question.” His words tumbled over one another, flying too quickly from his lips. Another habit acquired from permanently living on a time crunch.
“Where were you? When were you?” Mobius pushed. He appeared to grasp the sense of urgency, but not the purpose behind it.
“What if I don’t want to be good, Mobius? What if I just want to be…?” Loki continued until his thoughts ran aground.
What did he want? He wanted to live. He’d lived a million lifetimes. He’d lived them all alone, held in the breath between existence and destruction, balancing on the zenith of a falling pendulum. He wanted to say he’d had one, just one, where he’d truly gotten to live a full life.
“I’m listening,” Mobius acknowledged, wanting Loki to continue.
“I think that’s the thing. I want to be who I am. No giving into greater goods or lesser evils. I just want to spend a slow, deliberate day with you at the 1893 World Fair.”
“That is oddly specific — you’ve been here before.”
Mobius was right about himself. He noticed things. In all of Loki’s time slipping, Mobius was the only one who realised something was wrong.
“Yes.”
“And you suddenly feel the need to evaluate your life choices?”
“Apparently,” Loki confirmed.
“What’s about to happen?” Mobius was getting too close to the truth for comfort.
“Why don’t you want to know about your life before the TVA?” Loki retorted, knowing that would stop the pointed questioning. He wasn’t sure if it was a discussion they’d had in this timeline, but by the frustrated sigh the other man let out, he realised it had been.
“Stop changing the subject. It doesn’t matter,” Mobius spoke.
“What if I could tell you what it was like? Would you want to know?”
“No.”
“Not even if I were to tell you—.”
“No.”
“Then if you don’t care about your past, why are you so worried about the future?” Loki argued.
“I’m not worried about the future. You oversized ass. I’m worried about you because right now you look like—.” Loki didn’t give Mobius a chance to finish his thought.
“A scared little boy. I’ve heard that one before, Mobius. You’ve seen my life, even the one I didn’t live on the sacred timeline. You know me. You know what I’m capable of. So, tell me, what am I doing?”
Mobius shifted his focus to Loki. He was a god, but he could wither beneath the weight of the man’s attention. He wasn’t used to being understood. His brother came the closest. The problem with Thor was that he saw the best or worst in Loki, depending on the day, never the man he was.
Mobius saw him, knew his life and the contradictory nature of him. Loki wanted what was best for himself, but he also wanted what was best for everyone. It was a paradox.
“Seems to me like you’re going on a suicide mission and, for some reason, you think I’m going to give you my blessing,” Mobius deduced, brows drawn together.
“What if you knew what I was saving? The life you had before the TVA?” Loki reasoned, trying to persuade himself as much as he was Mobius.
“I’d still say no because I know what you’re giving up. There’s got to be another way. You’ve learnt to control your time slipping, haven’t you? We have all the time in the world.”
“And I’ve used it. I’ve done everything I could think of. This is my last resort, Mobius,” Loki spoke, sounding the part of a man who’d lived a long life trying and failing to find a way to save the world while running from the obvious answer.
“It’s not a suicide mission, not in the traditional sense. The timelines are going to collapse Mobius. The temporal loom isn’t what we think it is. We can’t fix it, but I think I can. I’m a god, after all,” Loki reasoned.
“And a humble one,” Mobius noted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“If you can fix this, why does it feel like we’re having a deathbed conversation?”
“It’s not a simple fix. To keep all the timelines in order, they need a big enough power source. Something has to hold them all together. A battery… I suppose.” Loki voiced his plans, hating how finite they sounded out loud.
The ever-shrinking part of him that wished to remain selfish screamed at how unfair and idiotic the idea was, but what were his options? He could become Sylvie, jumping from apocalypse to apocalypse, reliving his life before the loom pruned all the timelines, but that wasn’t living. That was running. He’d been running for so long. He wanted a moment of rest. Perhaps he’d find that moment in the quiet stillness at the end of life as he knew it.
“Loki, I know I’m just an analyst, but I’m not an idiot. If our TemPads are anything to go by, once you unplug a battery, the whole system goes down,” Mobius muttered. His plate of half-eaten pie was long forgotten.
His body leaned forward as though waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Loki to reveal some additional layer to his plan that’d lead to an easy resolution, though he knew one was not about to offer itself.
“Which is why this sounds like a deathbed conversation,” Loki confessed.
Mobius leaned back, a scowl permanently etching new wrinkles into his forehead.
“How many times have we had this conversation?” Mobius asked.
“This is the first, as you could’ve guessed by how well it’s going,” Loki said, using long fingers to rub circles in his temple.
Mobius’ hand shot forward to grip Loki’s bicep, holding him close in his grip. The god hunched forward and sprawled across the table, sagging limbless under the sudden sensation of human contact, as though he were a shark, a fearsome creature that could be rendered useless by merely flipping it over.
“Don’t you dare reset this. Stay here. Talk with me. We’ll work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out, Mobius. I’ve tried. You’ve tried. We’ve tried. I can save everyone, on all the timelines. I can save you and your obnoxious kids.” Loki had said more than he’d intended.
Mobius stilled. His grip slackened, giving Loki enough room to regain some space.
“Kids?” The man questioned.
“Boys, two of them. You sell Jet Skis. Maybe I should have opened with the Jet Skis,” Loki attempted humour.
“Personal watercraft,” Mobius corrected.
“What—?” Loki began before his mind caught up. He couldn’t believe Mobius managed to be pedantic with everything he had just learned.
“Jet ski is the brand,” Loki grumbled, slouching in the chair.
“Jet ski is the brand,” Mobius echoed.
A moment of loaded silence fell between them. The ticking clock droned on. Mobius was thinking. Loki tried to sit in the stillness. It lasted a fraction of a second before he became restless and stood; the chair screeching against the linoleum.
“There isn’t any other way?” Mobius asked, looking at Loki with thinly veiled concern.
“Trust me, this is the only way.”
“How do I know this isn’t a trick? That you haven’t decided to…”
“Go out on a proverbial suicide mission? You’ve watched me. You know what makes a ‘Loki’ tick, right? Mobius, you said so yourself. Does this seem like something I’d do if I had any other choice?”
“Not so long ago, you and I were talking about burning the TVA to the ground. Now what? You’re willing to die for it?”
“I’m known for switching sides. It’s one of my defining features,” Loki stated.
“So is lying,” Mobius retorted.
“Do you want me to be lying?”
“Of course, I want you to be lying. I want you to have some trick up your sleeve. You can duplicate yourself. I’ve seen it. Can’t you make another one of you to power the timelines?”
“It’s no small feat to make an illusion, Mobius. No matter how good I am at tricks, I can’t make another version of myself to hold the multiverse together. My illusions are just that, fabrications. A duplicate couldn’t hold the world, no more than you could hold smoke with your hands.”
“You could learn,” Mobius proposed feebly.
Hope was a fragile thing, but it existed in the space between them. Loki would have another thousand lifetimes. He would have plenty of time to practice.
“I could try. Though it may take some time.”
“Speaking of time, remind me again what you said about Chicago. Why do you want to go to Chicago?” Mobius said, his eyes meeting Loki’s.
“If this timeline were to go the way it should, we’d be heading there soon. Renslayer is there with Miss Minutes and a variant of He Who Remains.”
“And we’re sitting here talking?” Mobius asked, a tone of urgency leaking into his voice.
“Remember the metaphor with the salt and the salad? Mobius, we’re living in the moments before an apocalypse. Nothing we do now matters.”
Mobius clenched his jaw at the thought of days long past with Loki’s clumsy metaphor and his ruined lunch. Loki inched forward to pluck the saltshaker from the tabletop and gestured to the pie. His eyes were already wandering around the room as he tried to recall the distance between the automat and the hot cocoa machine.
“Care for another demonstration to refresh your memory?”
“You know sometimes, Loki, it’d be nice to have a meal without it being a metaphor for the end of the world.”
He dug his spoon into the pie, taking a considerable mouthful as though to punctuate his point.
“You have cream in your moustache,” Loki observed, trying not to scrub his thumb over the man’s upper lip.
Mobius rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, mixing cream with the blood on his knuckles. Loki imagined the coppery taste mingling with the thick fat of the cream. He couldn’t recall when he’d last eaten. His stomach ached for something other than food.
“You still want to go to the world fair. Why?”
“I’d like to spend some time with a friend before I save the multiverse, and I have a hunch it’s a good place to… how did you put it? Have a metaphor-free meal, maybe a beer,” Loki proposed.
Mobius levelled him with a sceptical glance before he nodded.
“Alright, but this doesn’t mean I agree with your plan. We’re going to work out a way to power the multiverse. Give me and O.B. a couple of hundred years and I’m sure we can come up with something.”
It was Mobius’ poor attempt at a joke, but there was a grim undertone to his voice. They both knew just how short and long that timeframe could be. Loki didn’t have time to wallow. He reached over to grab Mobius’ TemPad and created a door, not looking behind him as he stepped through it, knowing Mobius would be following.
***
The air was filled with a noxious assortment of aromas, mud mixed with crystalized sugar and the stench of oversized animals. Couples and friendly companions walked arm in arm along the dusted paths. The fading light of late afternoon was drowned out by the glow of the electrical lights.
Mobius’ mood oscillated between jovial curiosity and simmering blackness as they strolled between food stalls and tacky replicas of sights around the world. The man stilled as they passed a wooden building with the figures of the Nordic gods, save Loki, carved from old wood. Some things across the timelines never changed.
“Does it make you homesick?” Mobius asked.
Instead of being snide and sarcastic as he had their first go around, he decided to be genuine.
“I don’t know if I ever thought of Asgard as home, even before everything.”
Loki’s eyes searched the features of the wooden statues, looking for familiarity. Thor looked too serious and his father too young. He felt no warmth towards the facsimiles of his family or any of the complex emotions he’d associated with his father and brother.
“They forgot the most important person in our family,” Loki added.
Mobius gave him a sceptical look before rattling the packet of popcorn he’d grabbed from one of the stalls. He offered the food to the god, who declined with a half-hearted wave of his hand.
“You?” Mobius guessed.
“My mother,” Loki corrected.
“If not for her, the whole family would’ve been in shambles long before my brother and I were born. My people don’t equate kindness with greatness. If they did, she would be chief amongst our pantheon. Instead, they favour my father’s brutality.”
“Then maybe it’s good you’re not up there,” Mobius noted, taking Loki’s forearm and guiding them away from the building.
“What was she like?” The man questioned, as they continued past a poorly constructed replica of a Viking ship.
“You watched my life. I’m sure she was a prominent feature.”
“Yeah, well, watching the highlight reel of someone’s life doesn’t provide the best incite.”
“She was level-headed, perhaps the only one in the family who was,” Loki recalled, feeling Mobius tug on his arm as they swayed to avoid two men who rushed in the direction of the Ferris Wheel.
“She’d like you,” Loki tacked on as an afterthought, unsure why he’d done it.
“You think so?” The god hummed.
“Surprising as it might be, Mobius, you weren’t the first one to try to bring out my better nature,” he confided.
“But I was the most successful,” Mobius countered with a sly smile.
“And the most humble.”
The two fell into a comfortable silence as they walked shoulder to shoulder. It wasn’t out of place at the time for two men to stroll together arm in arm. He and Mobius had fallen into the pattern easily. Loki tucked that information away to be re-examined later.
He knew his affections for the TVA agent had morphed over time. At first, he’d wanted to use Mobius as a means to an end, as a way to escape his capture at the hands of the TVA. Then in time, he'd become something more, a friend. Somewhere along the way, over the hundreds of loops of time he’d relived, Loki realised there was the potential for them to be something more.
Loki had slept his way across the gender spectrum. The idea he might have affection for a man wasn’t new. However, his affection for Mobius was different. After all, Loki was willing to sacrifice so much to give Mobius a chance at free will. The potential to save Sylvie’s little slice of 1980s paradise and the other members of the TVA was a bonus. He loved Sylvie as he loved himself. Enough not to kill her, enough to want the best for her, but he trusted that if worse came to worst, she would be okay. Lokis were resilient.
“If I remember. You promised me a beer,” Mobius spoke, drawing Loki back to the moment.
“Well then, lead the way,” Loki said.
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few minutes?” Mobius chuckled, looking around at the poorly lit sandwich boards proclaiming show times.
“Being lead,” Loki smirked, pulling Mobius by the arm into the hofbrau.
They arrived earlier than they had on the original timeline. There was an hour before Timely would take centre stage and display his version of the time loom. For the moment, the place was awash with music and slurred mumbles from drunken patrons.
Mobius ordered the men a pint each. They retired to a table at the back of the room. Loki nursed the liquid. He was more of a wine drinker, but desperate times made him less picky.
“You know, I didn't think I’d be your first choice for this,” he observed, gesturing between them. If Loki didn’t know better, he’d say the man was jealous.
“You thought I would want to be with Sylvie?” Loki guessed.
“Seemed like you two had a thing going on.”
Loki snorted.
“And here I was thinking she was your favourite Loki.” The dark-haired man attempted a joke which fell flat. He sighed and took a deep swig of beer.
“Sylvie and I? It’s complicated. As I imagine, anyone’s relationship with themselves is. She’s not the person I thought her to be. Make of that what you will. You and I we’re…”
“Less complicated?” Mobius guessed.
“Yes, and no. You are simpler to love, less easy to define.” Mobius sat back and raised a brow.
Loki had made sure to choose his words carefully. He left them up for interpretation, knowing from experience that someone who knew what to look for would understand the meaning behind them.
Yes, he cared deeply for Mobius as a friend, but he’d been given reason enough to believe there was the possibility for more. He’d been willing to sit on the notion and let it simmer until he had more data. He was analysing the analyst. Loki feared one misstep might cause him to lose their friendship, but after this, he was losing Mobius either way. It would be better to know where they stood than continue for an eternity of wondering.
“In my life before the TVA, you said I had kids,” Mobius spoke, surprising Loki. Unsure if the man had missed the insinuation.
“Yes?” Loki confirmed. His tone conveyed a question behind the answer.
“Did I have…” Mobius trailed off. Oh.
“An ex-wife. When we met in that timeline, you were rather insistent on the ‘ex’.” Mobius laughed despite himself and took a swig from his glass.
“Of course I was,” he spoke under his breath. Loki tried not to preen, seeing the response for the compliment it was.
Loki glanced over his shoulder to confirm those around them were too lost in drink and their companions to notice his transgression. He nudged his hand against the back of Mobius’ still bruised knuckles. He didn’t flinch away from the touch. For a breath, they remained still.
“Sometimes it’d be nice for you to be straightforward. You know that? Without all the Shakespearian shit,” Mobius huffed, pressing his fingers into Loki’s palm.
“Mobius, you are infinitely frustrating, condescending, and at times, rather boring,” Loki began.
“Wow, way to flatter a guy.”
“That being said, you’re my friend. You understand me. You make me want to be better. In all the decades I’ve spent trying to fix this mess with the time loom, my head keeps coming back to you. If the multiverse weren’t ending, I’d like to get another beer with you and see where that could lead. Is that straightforward enough for you?” Loki’s voice rose and Mobius hushed him.
“1893 was a horrible year to have this discussion,” Mobius laughed, the tendons in the back of his hand twitching.
“You act like homosexuality was an invention of the twenty-first century.”
“No. Quit twisting my words. You’re smart. Think about it for a second. We’re two years off the Oscar Wilde trials. It’s not a good time for this. It’s going to get us in trouble.”
Despite his words, Mobius wasn’t pulling his hand away. It wouldn’t be long before Timely’s presentation, then they’d be caught up in another snaking branch of the loop. They needed to leave.
“Well, it sounds like we might be up to a bit of mischief then. Valhalla forbid,” Loki spoke.
A playful spark flashed across the god’s eyes, and he stood, quickly finishing his beer before grabbing Mobius’ arm and dragging him out into the open air. It wasn’t enough drink for either to be drunk, just enough to give them a comfortable buzz.
“Where are we going?” Mobius asked, struggling to keep up with the taller man’s loping steps.
“I’ve always found myself rather interested in what the future holds, haven’t you?” Loki asked, tilting his head towards a fortune-teller’s tent, proclaiming their opening hours to be long since finished. Mobius rolled his eyes and attempted to keep up with Loki as he ducked beneath the curtains.
“I’m more the divine intervention type,” he mumbled, trying to steady himself from falling headfirst into the gravel ground.
The tent was small, with only enough room for a foot between them. The only light came from the thin gap between the fabric. The world outside was ever-present but muffled. Mobius’ breath in the enclosed space was loud and ragged. His features remained undefined in the dull light.
“This feels familiar,” Mobius noted before giving Loki a sceptical glance.
“Have we—?”
“No, but you had a whole life before the TVA neither of us knows much about.”
“I can’t remember the last time I felt like a goddamn teenager,” the man confessed, taking a step closer to Loki and placing a hand on the god’s face.
He paused, holding Loki’s jaw in his palm as a connoisseur holds wine in their mouth. He savoured the moment. The space between them was charged with electricity. The familiar static of lightning caused the hairs on Loki’s arms to stand on end. He held his breath as he had in the moments before the end of the world.
“Have you done this before? With someone… like me?” Loki wondered.
“I thought there wasn’t anyone like you,” Mobius muttered, thumb toying with a strand of Loki’s hair.
“A couple of hundred years may have humbled me… slightly,” Loki chuckled.
“I can’t remember, can I? My life before all this is just… nothing. Time works differently at the TVA. Always jobs to do. Lots of paperwork. Not much water cooler talk.” Loki exhaled and nodded.
“Right. Slowly then,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward and pressing their lips together.
The dry scrape of Mobius’ moustache against his upper lip was a welcome one. He tasted of salt and beer. It was a crass and oh-too-human taste. A younger version of Loki would have admonished himself as he did his brother for finding comfort in such mundane affection. He was a god, melting like a waxen candle beneath the light of a mortal man.
He pushed aside all thoughts of past and future, trying to hold on to the moment. It was sand or smoke in his hands.
They crashed into each other, sending their ridiculous bowler hats tumbling to the tent floor, long forgotten. Next came their overcoats. Mobius protested the notion of ‘taking things slow’ as he removed the coat from Loki’s shoulders and trailed his hands over the man’s heaving chest, attempting to unclasp the buttons of his waistcoat. His pocket watch fell to the ground, crunching under the heel of Mobius’ boot.
“Mobius,” Loki mumbled against the man’s lips.
“Take a breath,” he soothed.
“I’m not going to disappear within the next few moments—.”
The man’s lips were upon him again, hands reaching down to untuck his shirt.
“That a guarantee?” Mobius asked.
Time was always going to be the sticking point between them. They’d never have enough time.
“Nothing in life is a guarantee.”
Loki stopped trying to slow the man. He let Mobius’ rough hands touch his bare skin and felt his biology respond in kind. He pulled back from the kiss, busying himself by knotting his fingers in Mobius’ tie and tugging it loose.
Mobius took another step forward, pressing their bodies impossibly closer, lost in the sudden passion of the moment both men stumbled backwards. Loki’s foot snagged in the fabric of the tent, and both were sent tumbling out of their quiet refuge, pulling the poorly constructed tent down on top of them. Both men stifled a laugh, well aware that whatever time they had was fading fast as the mutters of passers-by turned to voices of concern.
“I do say, unhand me, my good sir,” Loki sputtered, shooting Mobius a wink from their hiding space.
“Do you still have your TemPad?” He added in a whisper so low only Mobius could hear. He gave a nod.
“Make a fuss, then head for the alley behind the food vendors.”
“You know, it’s a real shame we didn’t get to ride the wheel,” Mobius added wistfully.
Loki shot him a withering gaze before relenting.
“Alright, send us back an hour. We’ll ride the wheel, and then we’ll go.” Mobius gave another nod.
Loki huffed and emerged from the mass of cloth, flailing wildly in a poor attempt at shadowboxing.
“This scoundrel had an affair with my wife,” Loki declared, loud enough for the growing crowd of onlookers to hear. He hoped the theatrics would distract them from his distinct lack of proper dress.
“Bullshit,” Mobius interjected before remembering the time period.
“You must be mistaken. Either that or you have spent too much time manning the balloons because you, sir, are full of hot air,” Mobius grumbled, following Loki’s plan with ease. It wasn’t foolproof, but anything was better than ‘get help’.
Mobius flung Loki’s suit jacket and hat at him, trying and failing to look indignant. Their little scene reminded Loki too much of an Asgardian stage play. Nevertheless, the onlookers appeared none the wiser. The two shared biting remarks before the god seized Mobius by his lapels, leading the tussle past the crowd and into the shadows.
Once away from prying eyes, Mobius produced his TemPad from his pocket and opened a time door. In the distance, a voice called for them to stop. Mobius took a staggered step backwards, tugging Loki in with him.
***
The men stumbled out of the door and turned together to run blindly through the crowd, pushing through the unsuspecting men and women of the Gilded Age. Loki struggled to button his undercoat and shrugged on his overcoat as they ran. They paused in front of the line for the Ferris Wheel. Loki shot Mobius a mischievous grin and slicked his hair back into place, donning his hat.
“I hoped you’d follow me,” Loki panted.
Mobius rolled his eyes.
“And here I was thinking I was leading.”
Loki snorted and glanced up at the lights overhead. He was a god. He’d seen marvels far beyond this realm. He’d travelled through space and time. Yet looking at the massive mass of metal and the twinkling lights illuminating the cityscape, he could find some marvel to it. Under the hum of the electric bulbs, Mobius' hair looked more blond than silver. The trick of the light made him look younger. It was a simple illusion which appeared to reverse time. If only they’d met sooner.
“Let’s take it for a spin then get the hell out of dodge,” Mobius remarked, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes cast skyward.
Once the two arrived at the front of the line, Loki spoke a few hushed words to the ticket collector before swinging the door open and gesturing for Mobius to enter, shutting the door after them. The carriages were designed to hold far more than two.
“What did you say to the guy?” Mobius asked as the machine shuttered to life and began its slow ascension.
“Nothing worth repeating,” Loki assured.
“Anything worth saying is worth repeating,” Mobius argued.
Loki didn’t dignify the remark with a response. His life was one of repetition. He’d almost forgotten what it could be like to make new memories. He moved to the window and watched the sprawling cityscape unfurl at their feet, aglow with thousands of flickering lights, looking like stars on the brink of a supernova.
At a distance, time and space stood still. They could be in any city, at any time, in any universe. For a moment Loki could pretend there were other choices to be made, other sunrises to view. He thought of the life he could create for Mobius and the others and knew he was making the right choice. It was a burden, but it was one he could live with.
The higher they rose above the panorama, the more the scene began to bleed together until the world was a chaos of light and shadow.
“What are you thinking?” Mobius asked at Loki's side. His hot breath fogged the glass, obscuring the scene below.
“I’m wondering why you haven’t tried to talk me out of this,” Loki confessed.
“I know you. Once your mind’s set. It’s set,” Mobius remarked, nervously drumming his hands on the guardrail.
“I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but I’m holding out hope while you do it the others, and I’ll have enough time to come up with a better plan.”
“Mobius, I’ve spent so much of my life cultivating chaos. Perhaps it would be a welcome change to try to bring about some order.”
Mobius let out a chuckle, one that sounded wet and strangled.
“Loki’s are known for changing sides,” he observed.
“Want to know what else you're known for?” Mobius added after a pause.
“Pray tell, all-knowing expert,” Loki said, letting sarcasm seep into his tone.
“Coming back from the dead,” Mobius spoke.
“Is that why you’re letting me do it?” Loki asked.
“I have faith. Mostly in you. Partly in myself. We’ll get you back.” Mobius repeated the words as though he were trying to make himself believe them.
“And you aren’t tempted to leave the TVA behind and go back to your timeline?”
“Not until everyone gets to make their own choices. Not until everyone is saved from He Who Remains, yourself included.”
“What if this is the only way?” Loki wondered, unable to match Mobius’ optimism.
At the beginning of the time slipping, he’d started with hope, which had broken down like an ocean shoreline under the constant barrage of waves. Even something as strong and resilient as a bolder or cliff side could be worn down with enough time.
“There are a million different timelines. A million different possibilities. I don’t believe there isn’t a world out there where you aren’t saved,” Mobius breathed, placing his hand on Loki’s arm. The weight of him was grounding.
“And would you expect me to come with you? If you were to go back to your place on the timeline. Is there space for me in that world? Where does a god fit into a life of Midgardian suburbia?” Loki continued to voice his fears. If he were to come back, what was he coming back to?
“If I’m being honest, Loki, I don’t know if there’s space for me in that world. You know that thought experiment with the cat in the box? Until we make a decision, anything’s possible. At the end of the day, isn’t that what we’re fighting for? If we’re going to rebuild the TVA on something good, I think it’s not a bad place to start. Protecting choice,” Mobius proposed.
“Some might argue you’re protecting chaos,” Loki rebuked.
“You say that like chaos isn’t worth protecting.”
Mobius shot Loki a knowing glance as the wheel began to descend.
“I don’t think it’s an argument most mortals make.”
“Oh, so you’re the expert on ‘mortals’ now?” Mobius spoke.
“I believe I know them better now than I once did.”
Loki’s eyes trailed from the scenery to Mobius. He tried to hold on to the image, knowing that for Mobius to move forward, Loki would have to become an expert at standing still. He would be the hub that kept the wheel turning. He wanted to remind himself what he was doing it all for.
“So, what? You’ve decided we might just be worth saving?” Mobius remarked.
“I believe I have a vested interest in some mortals more than others,” Loki whispered.
“Mobius, don’t do what I did. Don’t waste a lifetime trying to find a way around this. If it’s the only way, I’m going to live with it. Live your life, however you choose,” Loki added, knowing he wasn’t the only stubborn one in the pair.
Mobius placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, forcing the god to face him. Loki didn’t budge for many, but for this man, he was a tree swaying in the breeze. Mobius tightened his grip on Loki’s shoulder.
“Hey, you’re doing this so all of us can have a choice, right? Let me make my choice.”
“Alright,” Loki agreed, bowing his head and pulling the other man into a bone-crushing hug.
Mortal lives were short, fragile, and fleeting. To love one at all was ludicrous. But to not love this one was a betrayal of himself.
“When you come back, we’re going to have a beer and I’m going to teach you how to ride a jet ski,” Mobius whispered, trying to bring some levity to the moment.
“Do you remember how to ride a jet ski?” Mobius laughed.
“We’ll learn together.”
The Ferris Wheel slowed to a halt as the carriage reached the ground.
“Ready to face impending doom?” Loki questioned, trying to make light of what they both knew was a horrible situation.
“Just another day at the office,” Mobius remarked, his grip on the god grew tighter.
“You don’t have to be there when I do it,” Loki added.
“I do. I’m going to be with you for as long as I can, alright? I’m going to be there for you.”
Loki pulled back to get a better look at the man’s face. He placed a hand on the back of Mobius’ neck and pulled him in for another kiss. It was brief, rough, and desperate. A supernova. A sudden burst of flame and energy that devolved into the endless blackness of night. The kiss ended before it had the chance to begin. A perfect metaphor for their time together.
“Thank you, my friend, for the spark,” Loki remarked, reaching down to grab Mobius’ TemPad from inside his jacket pocket.
He opened the door and arm in arm they stepped through.
The temporal loom and the end of the multiverse loomed large in the gasp of time before the end of the world. The god broke from the man’s grasp, descended the steps, and walked into the final inferno.
His parting words came to him as though they’d always been there, as though they always would be there.
“I know what kind of god I need to be. For you, for all of us.”