Archive of Our Own ^beta

Loki stepped through the Timedoor onto the cold streets of Toronto. 

It was expected to be a simple mission, a response to an altercation with the variant they had been chasing, at a nexus event in 2010. 

As consistent with previous encounters, the Minuteman team sent to reset the branch had been attacked, but Loki couldn’t be bothered to care about them, nor the variant, really. He was there because he had no other choice, and the graying agent— Mobius— had promised to take him to the ever-illusive Time-Keepers. Cooperation was something he could muscle, if it meant continuing to exist rather than being horrifically disintegrated at the end of a pruning stick. 

Paired with Mobius, the two of them tracked down a man near the scene of the attack, large and muscular; comparable to Thor’s physique. According to the incident report, he had assailed several of the minutemen, picking them off with great efficiency as if they were nothing but feeble twigs planted in his way. He must’ve somehow been working with the lesser Loki variant, but his crafty alliance was long gone by now. 

The pair backed the man against a building on the dark, empty street of the city. 

“Look, guys, I left my wallet at home, so I don’t really have much on me— I— I have my phone? Do you want my phone?” he said nervously. 

Loki exchanged a glance with Mobius. Apart from his looks, he didn’t seem like the kind of individual to go around attacking expertly trained soldiers of time, nonetheless associate with a runaway God of Mischief. 

“Alright, take it easy,” Mobius said. “We just wanna talk.”

“Okay, yes, talk,” the man said. “What do you want?” 

“Do you remember attacking anybody? A group of armored individuals, perhaps?” Mobius said. 

“What? Attacking people? No, I was just at Planet Fitness— are you cops?” he said. 

Mobius shrugged. “No, not in the traditional sense. Think of us as investigators; detectives. What do you remember after leaving the gym?” 

“Look guys, I’ll give you whatever you want, but I don’t do anything wrong. I left the gym, then… I must’ve walked here. It’s a little fuzzy.”

Loki spared another look at Mobius. Enchantment, possibly, his mind supplied, but he kept his theory silent. If the variant wanted to cover their tracks, they would’ve wiped his mind clean of such meddling before they left. 

“Do you recall anyone approaching you? Anyone that looks like me? Or— similar to me, I guess,” Loki said. 

The man shrugged. “Uhh, no. Sorry, man.”

Mobius shuffled closer to Loki and spoke hushedly to him. “He’s not giving us anything,” he said. “We’re getting pretty close to redline, let’s just reset it and move on.” 

Loki quirked a brow. “Better luck next time?” he said. 

Mobius shot him a stern look. He pressed a button on his Tempad and spoke into it. “Alright, B, it’s a dead end here.” 

B-15 emerged from around the corner where both her and the accompanying Minutemen had been observing silently. 

“Lot of help your variant was,” She said harshly. “Okay, let’s reset it.” 

She pulled out the reset charge and placed it on the ground, preparing to activate it, before the man they had cornered suddenly spoke up, sounding frightened. 

“What are you doing?” 

The Minutemen ignored him, one of them opening a Timedoor. “Start moving out,” he said. 

Loki lifted his foot, preparing to begrudgingly follow the Minutemen through the door, then he felt a harsh yank on the back of his jacket. 

It happened so fast he could hardly make sense of it. 

Within the blink of an eye, the man had wrangled Loki into his grasp, wrapping a firm arm around his throat in a suffocating headlock. Terror immediately washed over his heart, cold and harrowing. 

“Look, you’re gonna explain what the fuck is happening, or I’m gonna take your guy out,” the man said, his voice unsteady. 

Loki scrabbled for purchase at the man’s arm, shoes slipping uselessly on the concrete as he struggled for breath. He made a strangled noise, looking desperately towards Mobius, his eyes wide and wild. Mobius met his gaze, unease pulling at the lines of his face. 

“Easy, now, just— let him go and we’ll tell you,” Mobius said, holding his palms up in a placating gesture. 

Loki felt himself be dragged backwards as his aggressor stepped further away, the grip around his neck growing impossibly tighter, effectively squeezing off his airflow. He choked and sputtered, his mouth gaping open, trying frantically to fight himself free of the man’s hold, but his efforts proved futile. 

Is this a sick coincidence or is it fate? Loki thought hysterically, his ears starting to rush. 

“No. Tell me right now,” the man said. “What’s with the orange doors? Who are you people?” 

“I’m giving you thirty seconds before I reset it, Mobius!” B-15 said. 

“No, I’m not leaving without Loki,” Mobius said firmly.

The rushing in his ears evolved into a roaring storm, accompanied shortly by shrill ringing. His efforts to free himself grew weak, bright stars playing around in his tunneling vision. He felt his chest spasm at the lack of air, the sharp pain in his throat throbbing in time with his heavy heartbeat. Loki wondered dizzily how a measly midgardian managed to be so strong. 

He thought maybe someone was talking, multiple people, perhaps, but it sounded as if they were underwater, only wordless vibrations breaking through the surface to make it to his ears. 

His shaking legs gave way, the only thing holding him up now being the strangulating grip of the arm around his throat. His chest fluttered with panic. I am going to die here at the hands of nobody, Loki thought helplessly. 

His ears popped and his vision fizzled out, then suddenly, right as he was on the cusp on unconsciousness, he was freed. 

Loki collapsed heavily to the floor and gagged, coughing shallowly as he sucked in gulps of fresh air. He looked back up at his attacker just in time to see the rest of him dissolve brilliantly into sparks at the end of a hunter’s pruning stick. His fear-induced adrenaline passed quickly, leaving him lying limp on the concrete, weak and trembling. 

He coughed several more times, his vision crowding in, and when the fit passed, he registered that there were hands on him, under his armpits. He was being dragged, past the glowing, orange frame of the Timedoor, back into the TVA. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be laid out against the cool tile floor, exhaustion weighing his body down. Someone tapped his face and he begrudgingly peeled his eyes back open. 

Mobius’s worried face swam into view above him. “Hey, you with me, Loki?” he said. 

Loki groaned then winced, bringing a hand up to rub gently on his sore throat. He tried to speak, but only a miserable croak escaped his lips. He settled instead for a nod. 

“That’s alright, you don’t have to talk,” Mobius said. “Let’s get you up off the floor, though. Can you stand?” 

Loki nodded again and Mobius stood from his crouched position, extending a hand down to him. Loki took it and Mobius pulled him to his feet, where he wobbled briefly with an uncomfortable grimace tightening his features. 

With a supportive hand on his waist, Mobius led Loki down the hall and into what he assumed to be a lounge room, with several small couches and one of those espresso machines in the corner that Loki had seen dotted around the TVA. Mobius ushered him to the closest couch and urged him to sit down. Loki obliged and sunk heavily into the soft cushions of the furniture. 

“I’m gonna fetch you some ice,” Mobius said. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” 

Loki nodded and swallowed reflexively against his sore throat. Mobius patted him on the shoulder sympathetically and swiftly exited the room, turning a corner out of sight. 

Leaning his head back against the backing of the couch, Loki let himself close his eyes and relax. His weariness won for a brief moment and pulled him into a light sleep, but he woke as soon as he heard the familiar click of Mobius’s shoes against tile. Loki opened his eyes, glancing at the bag of ice and bottle of water in Mobius’s hands. 

“I thought some water wouldn’t hurt,” Mobius said. “Do me a favor and keep that ice on there.” 

He handed the small bag of ice to Loki, who pressed it gently against his aching neck. Mobius then sat down on the couch next to him with a small puff. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, cringing inwardly at the husky state of his voice. 

The cold ice brought him immediate relief, numbing the pain around his throat. It couldn’t do much about the soreness inside, however. Loki swallowed again and scowled. 

“Try drinking some of this,” Mobius said, extending the plastic bottle of water. 

Loki eyed him curiously and took it. Mobius was being needlessly generous, Loki thought, but he couldn’t force himself to object to it. He didn’t think there was any tactical need for the man to sit around and tend so caringly to him, especially seeing as he had only sustained a minor injury. He kept quiet because he liked the attention and refused to consider that it was rooted in any deeper feelings. 

Loki accepted the water bottle and unscrewed the cap, taking a wary sip. It went down oddly and he obviously wasn’t expecting it to, seeing as he immediately sputtered and choked on it. 

Mobius patted him on the back as he coughed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and exertion. 

“Easy, there,” Mobius said. “Try sitting up.” 

Loki coughed a couple more times and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His throat throbbed anew from the effort, and he miserably shifted the ice around on it. 

“I’m not gonna have to swing you by medical, am I?” Mobius said. 

Loki huffed out a dry laugh. “No, it’s just… unexpected. All of it.” 

Mobius sucked his teeth. “As far as botched missions go, this one was certainly off the wall.” 

“Do you often encounter such opposition?” Loki said. 

“Not personally,” Mobius said. “Usually, the hunters just go in and cut through, but I wouldn’t doubt that they’ve had issues before.” 

“Thank you,” Loki said, shifting nervously, “for preventing my untimely death, I suppose.” 

Mobius chuckled. “You can thank G-26 for that.”

“You know they would’ve left me if it weren’t for you,” Loki said. 

“Then I reckon you might wanna keep me close,” Mobius said, winking. 

Loki felt his face heat up, but this time he didn’t think it was from embarrassment. He told himself it was, anyway. 

“I, uh— I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” Loki stammered. “You hardly let me wander around on my own as it is.” 

“Well, I can’t exactly have a loose God of Mischief running rampant through the halls,” Mobius said. 

Still lacking faith in me? Loki thought sourly. He waved the feeling away, however, because he knew Mobius’s trust was hardly warranted. At least, not yet. All things changed with time. 

“I suppose,” Loki said distractedly. 

The ice was starting to melt, condensation from the bag dripping down his sleeve. Loki tried swallowing again, but his face scrunched in pain. 

“Hey, try drinking some more water,” Mobius said. 

Loki obediently brought the bottle in his hand to his lips and took a cautious sip. This time, he expected the odd feeling as he swallowed it, and therefore didn’t choke. The water was cool on his sore throat, providing temporary ease, but the pain quickly returned. 

“Do you want a lozenge?” Mobius said. 

Loki creased his brow. “A what?” 

“A throat lozenge. You suck on it and it kinda numbs the pain.”

“I might as well,” Loki said, nodding slowly. 

Mobius shifted and reached into his suit jacket’s inner pocket and produced a tiny thing wrapped in thin paper. It looked like midgardian candy. He dropped it into Loki’s open palm who then unwrapped it. The lozenge was opaque and orange in color. 

Loki popped it into his mouth. It tasted sweet, like honey, and sure enough, as he sucked on it, it started numbing his tongue and the back of his throat. He hummed thoughtfully and leaned back against the couch. 

He kept the bag of ice-water against his neck as a newfound wave of exhaustion washed over him. His eyelids fluttered, but he forced them to remain open. 

“You can sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” Mobius said. 

Loki closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, allowing himself to drift. 

He distantly felt someone gently take the bottle of water out of his left hand and the bag of ice out of the other. 

He didn’t protest as the ambient drone of the TVA lulled him softly away to sleep’s clutch.