Thread of Time

Sylvie is less agitated to see them than Mobius thought.

Still, with no small amount of annoyance, she’d ushered Mobius and B-15 out of the overflowing restaurant and told them to wait till her break began. And right when it did, she rushed out so see them, ripping the McDonald’s hat off her head.

And so they wait, in the open parking lot, gathering in front of what he’d previously seen to be her car. He wonders how much Sylvie enjoys life now that Loki is gone. He wonders if she feels the same amount of sorrow that he does, every single day.

The weather was warm, the hot afternoon sun beating down on the fully-dressed Mobius. Being back in the analyst look feels really good, like a piece of who he really is. He is apprehensive about leaving his sons again, but he knows very well that he could return at any point in time. So for them, it would be like he never went away.

“You guys never seem to want to leave me alone, do you?” Sylvia remarks, approaching him, but there’s less resistance in her voice than when they first reached out to her.

“Hello, Sylvie.” He greets, folding his arms.

Sylvie waves, and her head bobs between their grim faces. “What is it this time?” She asks, leaning against her car.

“I…we need you to get into the Tree of Time so that we can find Loki.” Mobius blurts out.

“The Tree of Time? Is that what you’re calling it now?” Sylvie murmurs, tilting her head. “And why do you need to find Loki?”

“There have been multiple attempted break-ins in the Tree.” B-15 says from behind him. “And this person’s a serious magic-user. And they have access to He Who Remains’ Tempad.”

“Already?” Sylvie frowns. “Have you tracked down this person?”

“No.” Mobius chides. “First and foremost, we need to warn Loki.”

“And why do you need me?” Sylvie enquires. “I mean, I can help, but why specifically me?”

“Someone with Loki’s Aura needs to be the one to get in there.” Mobius explains.

“We saw how He Who Remains’ Aura was cracked by Timely, his Variant. So we’re hoping the same thing would happen with you and Loki.” B-15 adds.

“With me and-” Sylvie thinks for a moment, attempting to wrap her head around the information.

“Help us. Please.” Mobius pleads, his voice soft. Sylvie meets his eyes, and something tells him she has grasped the strife running through his mind. He doesn’t know if it’s her powers or simply the fact that she knows Mobius.

”Of course,” Sylvie assures, her face breaking into one of those rare, soft smiles. The kind of smile in which she isn’t afraid to be vulnerable. Isn’t afraid to show affection.

“Sorry for taking you from your job.” He apologises, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Again.”

”Yeah, that tends to happen when you murder the man holding numerous timelines apart.” Sylvie quips, moving to join him.

Mobius wonders if it’s worry for Loki, the same one that’s coursing through him at the very moment, that is prompting her into co-operation. No matter how much the goddess denies it, she does care for her Variant. And Mobius is happy about that, so long as she helps her find him. Before the TVA traitor.

Don’t worry, Loki, I won’t let them hurt you. 

*****

Fraser has had enough.

For the umpteenth time, he staggers to a halt right outside the tree, sometimes suspended mid-air, sometimes in a heap of lethal radiation, sometimes on the hard ground of the bridge. The rage is mounting, spreading through him like a fire.

He has spent thousands of years trapped in his own body, his true soul ripped from him, in denial of his own powers, all for this. And now, he feels as if all hope is evaporated. He cannot possibly lose if he has everything riding on this very mission.

He can’t let He Who Remains win.

The powers have grown erratic after being trapped inside him for so many years. He feels them burning inside him, threatening to destroy, and not stop till the world is ripped apart. He feels the warmth surge at his glowing fingertips. 

A jolt of electric anger runs through his body, coursing through him, aching for release. He knows he can’t, he knows that patience is key when dealing with intricate timelines, and especially with a Loki, but he can’t hold himself back.

He can’t even count how long he has been waiting. Alone, in a void of darkness with only a single ray of hope. The hope of proving himself. The hope of releasing the true soul that thrummed within. But he never got that opportunity.

It’s time he fights for what is his.

Something Loki has stolen.

And suddenly, Fraser can’t control himself anymore. The burst of light that erupts from his hands is blinding, the force of his magic so intense that even he is knocked back. The surge of red light overtakes the Tree, nearly enveloping the green completely.

It shakes the Tree, almost to its breaking point. Fraser gives a broken shout, one of anger, helplessness, agony. It all simmers and blows out through his glowing fingers, a brilliant and dangerous burst of light. It wracks the tree, and hopefully the one inside, violently.

Repeatedly, he strikes the tree with his power, even though he knows the force won’t be enough to kill the Variant inside. The best he can do is severely injure him so that he can get inside and seize control of the timelines.

But of course, a thorn pokes through the tapestry of hope.

Fraser regains his senses when he sees a few figures approach the room overlooking the Tree. Two men and two women. They’re coming closer. He can’t see their faces, but he can tell that they are shocked upon seeing the streaks of red light cover the tree.

Fraser grips the Tempad, and disappears before he is spotted.

*****

Mobius lets out a guttural gasp.

For the Tree in which Loki currently resides, is overtaken by a cloud of red. And, if it isn’t mistaken, the Tree appears a little….shaken. He jolts, pealing forward until he hits the strong glass wall. He slams his hand against it, feeling helpless. Fear spasms inside, and his fingers curl over the glass.

Shit, shit, shit.

”Loki!” He yells, even though he knows it will have no use.

He turns to his companions. Sylvie is only two steps behind him, looking equally shocked and worried, and OB is readying the monitor. B-15 rushes to his side.

”I’ll gather data on anyone spotted here since I left.” She announces, before leaving the room. 

Mobius looks to Sylvie. “Get me out there. Quick.”

”Hang on, I thought I was gonna talk to him?” She questions, giving a sceptical tilt of her head. 

I need to see if he’s okay. “You’ll need me.” He murmurs frantically.

Once again, Sylvia reads him flawlessly. 

“It’ll be risky.” She warns. “You’re a mortal.”

”I can handle it.” He assures the Goddess, even though he hasn’t given it much thought.

”Right.” She takes a few steps towards the beaten-down cement paths. “I don’t suspect we’ll need space suits, considering Loki’s swallowed up most of the radiation. I’ll put a spell on us just to be sure.”

”Right.” Mobius steps closer to her.

”Are you ready, Mobius?” She asks, though he knows she means, Are you sure?

Mobius gives her a strong nod, gathering all his strength. It’s time he proves to everyone, to himself, that he is capable of protecting a God like Loki despite not possessing material powers. That the strength of his love is enough to trump all physical boundaries.

He looks, one last time, at the tree. At Loki.

Loki, who is possibly hurt or imprisoned.

Loki, who needs him like he never has. 

I’m coming, Loki.

****

Stepping through the blast doors brings a stream of senses that Mobius would rather forget. The burning sensation gripping his chest. The heavy weight pushing him down. His limbs cracking with every step, his body twisting, fighting to keep balance. Not to mention the ashy smell and the surge of adrenaline.

Only half of those senses return. Now, the bridge is cool, adorned with green patterns. Protected by Sylvie’s spell, Mobius doesn’t disintegrate. This time, while stepping through the hard concrete, he has time to think.

His hand trembles against Sylvie’s (though both find the position uncomfortable. Sylvia must hold his hand to keep the spell intact). Said goddess looks up at him with glassy eyes. Sylvia begins to walk slower, lengthening her strides.

”I was terrified, y’know.” She remarks. “When he first walked down here.” Her voice breaks. “He’s a- a bastard.”

Mobius chuckles, though the sound is thin. “He really is.” 

He’s barely audible over the crackling lights, but he knows she doesn’t have to hear him to understand him. Sylvie has roamed so many minds, invaded so many hearts, that he is sure she can read people effortlessly now. Except now, she doesn’t have to break people open for survival.

In a strange, twisted way, the Tree is beautiful. Even now, glowering with a frightening red, it looks like a miracle, like all of Time itself. He can’t believe Loki built it all by himself. He’s always been proud of the God— but this is pristine. 

I know what kind of God I need to be for you.

Mobius shudders. He knows, by the flicker in God’s eyes, that Loki meant everything he said with severity. He knows how much Loki changed, from a selfish desire for a throne, a sadist desire for dominance, to true selflessness. And Mobius is honoured to have supported him on his journey. 

At long last, they reach the end, right under the curve of the Tree, weaved together by multiple timelines. He watches them throb and breathe, countless people living the best versions of themselves. Dreams being made a reality, desires being fulfilled, people being loved. 

A few feet above them, the cloud of red begins- harsh, unforgiving.

Mobius turns to Sylvie, giving her an expectant look. Sylvie inhales, and then reaches forward to take one of those branches in her own hand. Mobius braces himself. Sylvie’s face contorts in focus, and the entire branch lights up with a brighter shade of green. It’s stark against the darkness.

C’mon, you can do this. Mobius lightly cheers. You’re a Loki. You can do it.

Her lips press together, and the beam of green light extends. It travels from one branch to another, forming an unending river of bright light. Mobius looks up, watching it crawl all the way to the tip of the tree. It touches the top with a flicker, spreading along its width.

It’s a marvellous sight, the powers of a Loki colliding with another.

The Tree of Time lights up with emerald veins. Sylvie’s grip tightens around the branch she’s holding, and the light under her fingertips turns more intense. It nearly becomes a blinding white, and a small spasm plunges the entire place into darkness. 

And then the Tree parts like a door.

Mobius turns to Sylvie, patting her shoulder. “You did it,” He admires.

 Sylvie opens her eyes, looking surprised at her own deed. “I guess I did.” She whispers.

Mobius drops her hand, promptly stepping inside. The Tree swallows the two figures, becoming whole again. Mobius watches in amazement as the branches surround him and Sylvie, glimmering in all their pride. These are lives. He smiles.

But his smile drops at the sight in front of him.

Loki, his Loki, draped over the floor. Unconscious. His horned helmet, tossed to the side. His cloak haphazard.

Mobius’ throat constricts painfully, and he chokes. He reaches the God’s side, shaking him violently, pleading with him even though he knows Loki can’t hear it. He doesn’t see or hear Sylvie, he doesn’t feel the cold floor under him, the rippling lives over him. At that moment, his world is all Loki.

And it’s all slipping from his hands.