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As the resident Loki expert, it wasn’t surprising for Mobius to be summoned to interrogate a Loki variant. What was surprising was that the variant hadn’t been pruned and was currently waiting in a Time Theater. Apparently, he had mentioned “timelines” and that set off alarm bells in the team who’d brought him in.
“I’ll be right there,” Mobius said, after the Minuteman had told him which Time Theater. He turned to give Loki a stern look. “You stay here and keep working through those files.”
Papers were spread all across the table they sat at. Mobius pitied the person who’d have to organize them before they were returned to the shelves—likely him. He doubted he could trust Loki to do it.
“What? I should come with you,” Loki said, rising from his chair. “If you’re interrogating one of my variants, I should be there.”
Mobius didn’t miss the way Loki chose to phrase it as if the other was a variant of him, and he was the original.
“If you’re there, I won’t get a word in edgewise with the two of you yapping,” Mobius said, and pointed at the chair. “Stay. Here.”
Loki frowned but slowly sat down. He didn’t immediately turn his attention to the files, but as long as he stayed in the Archives, Mobius would consider it a win. After ducking into the stacks to grab a file, Mobius headed to the Time Theater.
The Hunter standing by the door nodded and passed Mobius a Time Stick before he went in. There was no one inside the theater except the variant himself, who, of course, wasn’t waiting patiently in one of the chairs provided, but appeared to be examining the far wall.
“Find anything interesting?” Mobius called, heading for the table at the center. He dropped the file but kept hold of the Time Stick, his other hand in his pocket on the Time Twister.
The variant who turned to face him had similar looks to the Loki currently sulking in the Archives, except his face was a bit sharper. His black hair was shorter and swept back from his face, and he wore a modest set of gleaming golden horns. He was dressed in a green suit of Midgardian design, with a long coat in a darker shade that reached his knees. On his lapel were two pins: one with his name like a candidate running for office might have, and a golden pin composed of three interconnected triangles.
The Time Collar was almost lost amidst the green feathers of the boa he wore, in addition to an opera scarf. Mobius snorted, and the variant, who had been approaching slowly, arched an eyebrow.
“Isn’t it a little over the top to have both?” Mobius asked, gesturing to his own neck.
“I hardly think you are in any position to critique my style, dressed as you are,” Loki said. His voice had a slightly higher timbre but the same elegant, crisp pronunciation.
“Ouch,” Mobius said with a wince. He waved at the chair across from his. “Wanna have a seat?”
The variant had been standing with his hands clasped behind his back. As he strolled closer, he relaxed and let them drop to his sides. Mobius found his attention caught by black gloves, a choice he didn’t often see with Loki variants. They didn’t need bare hands to use seidr—this one had, in fact, been wielding a scepter that had been confiscated—but still, he rarely saw them with their hands covered.
It was a silly thing to focus on but something about the sight made Mobius’ pulse quicken, as if having them hidden amplified his curiosity. Would they look like the hands of the Loki currently working with the TVA? In what ways would they differ? Was there something wrong with this variant’s hands that made him need to hide them?
The Loki in front of him paused by the table, his head cocked. Mobius wondered how long he’d been lost in thought.
“I was given to understand I do not have much choice, yet here you are inviting me to sit. How interesting. Even more curious,” Loki continued, “is that you do not seem surprised at all to see me. In fact, it is almost as if you recognize me.”
Trying to stay on task, Mobius pulled out his chair and sat, putting the Time Stick in his lap.
“You’re a smart guy,” he said. “I think you already know why that is, especially if what I’m told is true and you were talking about ‘timestream entanglements’ when we picked you up.” He gestured at the other chair again. “Let’s have a chat about that.”
Loki cupped his elbow with one hand and tapped the fingers of his other against his lips, seeming to consider it. The gesture only brought Mobius’ attention back to the gloves. They had a slight shine to them, as if brand new. He wondered how they would smell.
Focus, Mobius.
Loki gripped the back of the chair and leaned forward with a smirk.
“And what do I get out of it? Besides staying alive,” he added when Mobius opened his mouth. “It was made very clear to me exactly what would happen should I not cooperate, but I must say that is not a very exciting threat.”
Mobius raised an eyebrow. “Not afraid of death?”
“Having been torn from one life and thrown I know not where, then plucked from that new place and brought here, I find death holds little meaning. Who is to say I am not already dead?” He straightened and raised a hand, palm up.
Mobius caught his attention drifting to the gloved hand again and yanked it back to Loki’s face.
“Well, you’re not dead,” he said, somewhat lamely. He didn’t often fumble an interrogation this badly, but he’d never met a Loki with the sort of devil may care attitude this one had towards survival.
“What a fantastically keen observation,” Loki said with a chuckle. He pulled the chair out and dropped into it in one smooth movement, then gestured. “Very well. If speaking with you grants me one step closer to returning to Asgard, let us speak.”
Mobius’ gaze followed the movement of that hand before he looked down at the table. He flipped open the file and tried to think about something other than Loki’s hands.
“You said you were torn from your original timeline,” he began. “What did you mean by that?”
The Time Keepers were in charge of all the timelines. The TVA were the only people who should be picking up anyone from the timelines and that was because of crimes against the Sacred Timeline. If there was such a thing as timestream entanglements, shouldn’t Mobius have heard of them before now?
Loki was looking around the room, ignoring the question despite just agreeing to talk.
“You know, I was somewhere else before this and it was just as drab,” he said, idly drumming his fingers against the table. The leather muffled the sound, but it still snagged Mobius’ attention. When he looked up, he realized Loki had caught him staring. Loki’s smirk widened slightly; Mobius fought the urge to blush, in vain.
“These timestream entanglements,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to get them back on track. Why was his mouth so dry? He wished he’d thought to bring a Josta with him.
“We have never met and yet you know who I am while I do not know who you are. Does that not seem rather unfair?” Loki asked.
Get it together, Mobius thought sharply. He was so far off his game it was alarming.
“I’m Agent Mobius.” Habit had him holding out a hand across the table. Loki looked even more pleased when he accepted the handshake, fingers curling firmly around Mobius’.
The leather of his glove was smooth and supple, softer than Mobius would have thought. There were hardly any creases to it, which had to be magic. Except there was no magic in the TVA, so how was Loki doing it?
Loki’s hand was also warmer than Mobius expected. Didn’t Lokis usually run on the cooler side? Was this another difference between the two variants currently within the TVA?
Mobius suddenly realized they had been sitting there, locked in a handshake for longer than normal. Loki’s smirk was decidedly knowing and when Mobius tried to pull his hand back, Loki held it a moment longer before letting go. Mobius surreptitiously wiped his hand off on his pant leg, trying to erase the sensation of leather against his skin.
“Mobius,” Loki said, drawing the name out. “An unusual name for a mortal.”
“Normal enough for a TVA analyst,” Mobius said, trying to ignore how his name sounded on this variant’s lips. The Loki he’d conscripted had never said it like that, so loaded with meaning. “And it’s a step up from a number and letter.” He tried to grin, but it felt weak. “Let’s stay focus—”
Loki stood and leaned over the table in one quick movement, placing a gloved finger on Mobius’ lips to silence him. Mobius’ eyes widened and he froze.
He could smell the leather. It was just what he thought new leather would smell like and as soft on his lips as it had been on his palm. The warmth of that one finger seemed to spread down through him, followed by a wave of goosebumps.
Loki grinned and straightened, slowly coming around the table to stand beside Mobius’ chair. He leaned a hip against the table, looking down.
“You have been awfully distracted during this entire conversation, Agent Mobius,” Loki said. “Quite rude, would you not say? Considering my life hangs in the balance.” He tapped the open folder on the table, but never once looked at it.
Mobius felt pinned by those green eyes, unsettled and seen so thoroughly, he might as well have been transparent. Before he could think of what to say to regain control of the conversation, Loki went on.
“Whatever could be the cause, I wonder?” Loki raised one hand and began to slowly pull his glove off, loosening it finger by finger as Mobius stared. “Something about me in particular, mayhaps?”
As the glove came free, Mobius’ brain finally lurched into gear. He jumped up but stumbled as his chair fell over. Loki caught him by his TVA-issued tie, keeping him from going any farther.
Mobius looked down, first noticing the glove that had fallen to the floor, then Loki’s fingers curled around brown fabric. At first, his only thought was that Loki’s hands seemed totally normal, maybe even a little familiar. Then his mind flashed back to another time and a different Loki who had toyed with his tie. His heart was pounding, an unfamiliar heat burning through him.
Loki drew Mobius closer, the feathers of his boa brushing Mobius’ suit.
“I have met many in my unexpected travels and yet none as intriguing as you,” Loki murmured, his breath warm against Mobius face. “A pity I cannot bring you back to Asgard with me.”
Warning bells sounded in Mobius’ head, but he realized too late what Loki meant. Mobius dropped a hand to the pocket with the Time Twister, but Loki had already released his tie and stepped back, Mobius’ TemPad in his gloved hand. He snapped it open, thumbed the controls, and grinned when a Time Door opened. Before Mobius could activate the Time Twister—or maybe stalled by the gloved hand Loki raised to waggle his fingers goodbye—Loki stepped through the Time Door and disappeared.
Mobius stared at the spot where the variant had been, his heart still racing. Then he slapped a palm to his forehead.
“Idiot!” The only possible silver lining was that possessing a TemPad had to be a nexus event. As soon as that variant appeared on a timeline, they should be able to track him. Even if they’d found him by accident the first time.
Mobius tugged at his tie, trying—and failing—not to think about bare, slender fingers curling around it. He shivered at the memory. Then he looked down and saw Loki had left his glove behind. After a half-second of indecision, Mobius crouched to pick it up. It was still warm. Embarrassment and something else flashed through him, leaving his cheeks hot.
He scrubbed his free hand over his face, then slapped his cheek lightly to clear his head. He stuffed the glove into the pocket with the now-useless Time Twister, then gathered up the file he hadn’t even started to read.
Loki—his Loki, he supposed—was waiting just outside the Time Theater’s door, his back against the wall. He had shoved his hands into the pockets of his variant jacket and was staring at the floor. He raised hi shead as Mobius came to a startled stop.
“Any trouble?” Loki asked. There didn’t seem to be anything else in his voice but simple curiosity, but Mobius couldn’t trust his own observational skills, not after being so thrown by the last variant.
“What are you doing here? How—you know what, nevermind,” he muttered and stalked past Loki, assuming he would follow.
“Did you get anything useful out of him?” Loki asked, as he caught up. “Or should we go back in together?”
Mobius couldn’t reveal the variant was gone—he’d be in enough trouble as it was if anyone found out—and he didn’t need Loki learning that.
“Did you finish looking through all the files?” he asked, letting some of his frustration leak into his voice.
“Did you?”
The question brought him up short. Mobius turned, his stomach churning. “What are you talking about?”
“I wondered if there was anything useful in that variant’s file,” Loki answered, tone casual. “It sounded like an unusual catch for the TVA.”
His gaze flicked down to the file Mobius had in his hand, which happened to be right next to the pocket with the forgotten glove. Mobius looked down, afraid for a moment that the glove was somehow visible. It wasn’t, but when he raised his gaze to meet Loki’s, there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the god’s lips.
Mobius tried to remind himself that he still held all the power—while simultaneously realizing he’d left his Time Stick in the theater—but it was hard to feel in control when a guilty flush was creeping up his neck.
“Let’s go,” he said brusquely, and started down the corridor. “We’re not going to find the variant we’re hunting by standing around.”
Loki said nothing more, only strolled beside Mobius with his hands in his pockets. The casual ease with which he moved reminded Mobius of the other variant. He gripped the file tighter and tried to push those thoughts aside. He had bigger things to worry about, like the extremely dangerous variant they were hunting.
Not to mention the new TemPad he would have to get issued without revealing how he’d lost his first one. Mobius thought about the lecture that was going to involve and sighed.