Child of Time
Fraser holds up the small, glossy rectangle. A Tempad, they call it.
It’s in his blood to wreck, to destroy, to cause disasters they called Nexus events. It was until one of his Variants built the wretched TVA that he had free rein over the world. He remembers the man, He Who Remains, he called himself, with bronze skin and an overconfident smile.
Fraser was the strongest Variant of them all.
At least, he was clever enough to watch from the sidelines until the whole thing calmed down. First, it was He Who Remains’ death. Then, it was the Loom. Then, it was Loki’s descent to the Tree of Time. Now, the time is his.
Fraser types some co-ordinates into the Tempad, his mind brimming with the fight. He had been the most hurt he’d ever been in his life, physically and emotionally. He felt choked, held back, controlled. Now, there is no one to stop him.
Now, he can conquer the world in peace without his own Variants locking him up.
Fraser was never meant to be born. It was his knowledge of time travel that saved him, so many times, from an unfulfilling death. The Child of Time, he calls himself. A fresh addition to He Who remains. A better one.
He’d spent thousands of years as Hunter A-34, a faceless worker at this place He Who Remains built. Sure, he felt inferior working for one of his own, but he knew it was a win-win: A place to lie low. Prevention from aging. And inside information.
It was his way to crawl up the ranks, slowly and steadily, waiting till malice reared its head. He’d spent a long time trying to reason with He Who Remains, trying to reason with his own Variants, but it had seen no avail.
He’d told He Who Remains not to build the articulation intelligence he called Miss Minutes, but his calls went unheard. He’d warned the man not to get attached to it. Again, he was ignored. Finally, he warned the man to personally execute all Variants of Loki.
Look where that got him.
Loki Laufeyson. The man that was so dangerously close to becoming his own downfall.
Those Variants are smart, horrifyingly smart, and they don’t let go of a topic until they’ve got the satisfactory result. They’re unique, magical, and the potential to be both a curse and a boon to the world.
The first case, Fraser could handle. Two trails of black ink running together can easily mingle. He could make those Variants his slaves in no time. He knew of Lokis’ irresistible urge to feel needed. But it was the latter that caused even him to doubt himself.
The bright orange door opens up. Fraser smiles bitterly.
Hunter A-34 has turned into Fraser, and the relief has morphed into disaster.
He won’t stop until Loki presents himself.
****
Mobius stuffs the load of pie into his mouth, frowning when some of it latches onto his beard.
It’s Tuesday, and the boys are off to school. He didn’t go into work. He couldn’t, not with the fatigue mounting inside him since the day he arrived. The weight of sorrow that he’s forced to carry around, one that threatens to break him.
It has been happening ever since he gave up the Mobius inside him to fully embrace the Don he didn’t know he had.
Looking at the empty wooden chair opposite him in the small dining room, Mobius feels a fresh wave of sorrow. Is this truly the life he’s meant to live? The life he’s chosen? Is this how it’s all meant to end? Will this go on forever?
Forever. It’s scary to think that word, considering he can’t seem to be able to make it through another day.
Every day is the blade going deeper and deeper, piercing his heart. Every day is another step into the void of loneliness. A thorny vine clutching tighter and tighter, until one day he would choke. He doesn’t know how he can take it.
The kids are amazing, and he loves them. It is a strange sense of compassion and protectiveness Mobius is surprised he feels towards two persons he hasn’t known before. It’s ingrained, he thinks, the compassion, the love.
Love. How strange it feels to say that world now.
Mobius closes his eyes, swallowing the pie in his mouth. And an image darts into his mind. Wide, mischievous green eyes, a nest of long raven curls, a smile sometimes snarky, sometimes proud, sometimes filled with love. The cloaked figure disappearing further and further into the Loom, to disintegrate completely in a network of branches.
Loki is alive. He’s somewhere, breathing. Mobius knows it.
He’s somewhere in those branches.
Should he attempt to find him? Mobius doubts that, considering Loki has changed, and since the sacrifice, he bears new responsibilities. Loki is the singular thing holding all of Time together. And Mobius respects him greatly for it.
But he wishes Loki would come home.
Selfish, he calls himself, for Loki gave away his entire life to protect the flow of time, and here he is, refusing to let go of one person. But then his throat constricts when he realises Loki wasn’t just a part of his life. Loki was everything.
Why is it that only Loki has to leave everything he’s ever known, and spend an eternity alone, while the rest of the world gets to be happy? Why is it that the man nestled in is heart is the only one to suffer, for no fault of his?
He digs his hand onto the table. He pushes the rest of his pie away, for he has lost his appetite. Food doesn’t seem appealing. Nothing does anymore. Mobius wants to sleep, but he knows the night will be haunted by nightmares following fits of grief.
Maybe he should seek help.
But what could he tell? That he once was part of an organisation that controlled all of time, until it collapsed, and he came back to this life after having lost the person he cared for the most? It was stupid. He could get laughed at.
When he first got here, he was numb.
A few days later, he was depressed.
Now, he’s angry.
Hot lashes of anger collect at his abdomen and spread through his body. Anger not at a person, but at the series of events that caused all of this. That caused his Loki to be alone, going through God-knows-what up in that tree.
But he can’t do anything. After all, he’s just a boring old analyst incapable of protecting a God like Loki.
Mobius is reeling when an orange door opens up before him. He knows it all too well.
He doesn’t know if it’s relief he feels, or a new fear, when Hunter B-15 steps out of the door in her Hunter uniform, looking apprehensive. The sense of familiarity is welcoming in this unfamiliar world. In fact, Mobius is truly happy to see his friend. He jumps to his feet as if struck by lightning.
For the first time in weeks, he gives a genuine smile.
“B-15.”
The hunter’s face softens upon seeing the analyst. “Mobius.” She smiles. “How are you finding your new life?”
”I-“ He gulps. “It’s great. This life is great. I got much more than I could possibly ask for. But…” His face falls.
B-15 nods knowingly. “I know. I miss him too.”
Mobius’ throat tightens. How could be possibly explain to her the cocktail of sorrow, fear and anger that’s been brimming him for the past few weeks? How could he tell her even though he has everything, he fees like he has absolutely nothing?
“So…” He attempts on changing the topic. “You wanna grab some lunch?”
The Hunter shakes her head, her face hardening. “I’m not here to visit, Mobius. Though I would’ve loved to.”
Mobius steps forward. “What is it?”
”I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” She sighs. “We got a hit on He Who Remains’ Tempad. Someone’s out there using it. And that’s dangerous, considering it’s wired different. It gets more reach.”
”He Who- wait, hold on.” Mobius murmurs. “How did that Tempad even get outside the TVA?”
B-15 bites her lip. “It didn’t.”
Mobius gasps. “You mean someone inside…”
”Someone that’s inside the TVA got hold of that Tempad, and they’re using it. They- they just disappeared. We need your help.”
”My help with what?” Mobius shrugs, deflated. He feels unsure. Would he be able to step back in his life as Mobius the analyst after he mentally prepared himself to give it all up?
”Tracking down this person.” She chides. “They could create a lot of danger if we don’t step in.”
”Right.” He concedes, a ghost of an exhale leaving his lips. And then he looks up. “What was this person’s last location?”
The Hunter hesitates.
”B-15?”
”The place where the loom…collapsed.” She bites back.
The sentence causes Mobius’ insides to twist painfully.
No.