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Mobius received the call when he was getting ready for bed.
Impeccable timing, as these things always were.
He was only wearing simple long sleep pants and a loose t-shirt, but there was no way in Hel he was going to waste a second getting changed again.
Slipping on a rarely-used pair of slides, Mobius barely remembered to grab his tempad and key card from his jacket pocket before tearing through the TVA, heading straight for the infirmary. A million emotions within were warring for supremacy… fear, hope, dread, and relief the major contenders.
As he rounded the final corner, on the home run for the entrance of the medical wing at the end, the doors of the elevator a few metres ahead split apart. A gurney emerged, surrounded by several medics, a couple of doctors, and B-15, with a lost-looking Casey tagging along beside her.
But it was the sight of the ghostly white, raven-haired individual being wheeled with urgency through the imposing double-doors that pulled Mobius up short.
Loki was out.
He was free.
Though he was desperate to make his way to Loki’s side, Mobius unexpectedly found himself frozen to the spot. After a moment or two, he could no longer even hold himself upright under the onslaught of affectivity, and folded forward, catching himself with hands on knees as he attempted to regain control.
It was pure willpower that he was able to do so, visualising as he was the fleeting impression of Loki’s face just now; half-covered by an oxygen mask, and chillingly devoid of life.
Gods.
Forcing himself upright, he shuffled into the reception area just as Casey exited, the other man not even making eye contact as he hurried out, his expression strikingly disturbed.
That did not bode particularly well.
The flurry of activity that he overheard coming from one of the private rooms led him right to where he needed to be. With trepidation, he sidled in, hardly able to glimpse Loki through the swarm of medical professionals who were busily hooking him up to IV lines and various monitoring equipment.
He perceived that Loki’s eyes were open, if one could say as much. In truth, his lids were barely parted, and from what Mobius could tell, the movement of his eyes was erratic, as though he couldn’t really focus effectively. Or was falling asleep.
Or feasibly both.
Not wanting to get in the way, but unable to deny his visceral need a moment longer, Mobius picked his way through the chaos, making his way closer until he was right by Loki’s side.
He wasn’t sure if he imagined that the staff were wordlessly making room for him, but he was too focussed on Loki to pay it much heed. Already feeling tears stinging his eyes, he carefully took up Loki’s icy cold hand, his breath catching as Loki immediately turned his head to face him... enervated beyond words, yet alert enough to make his heart skip a beat in sheer wonder.
Even emaciated, with his skin almost translucent, hair lank and eyes dulled, he was the most beautiful thing Mobius had ever seen.
“Hey Loki,” he whispered, so choked up that he hadn't the capacity to speak any louder, even if he’d wanted to.
Loki blinked lethargically, his fingers twitching as though making to squeeze Mobius’ hand, but not quite up to the task.
He’s so weak.
Mobius swallowed hard, reaching out with his other hand to lightly graze the side of Loki’s face. Loki blinked at him again, and a single tear escaped, falling to trace the outer edge of his oxygen mask.
His heart broke.
“S’okay, Loki,” he murmured, “You’re here with us now, and you’ll be okay. I promise.”
Another couple of tears fell, and Mobius delicately dashed them away for him, in the meantime furiously blinking back his own. He was loath to let himself go in front of the lingering personnel of the medical ward, who had now almost halved in number since he’d entered. He could feel that B-15 remained standing nearby, quietly observing off to the side, and he felt a little stronger for her presence.
But simultaneously, he found he wanted- no, needed everyone gone. He needed to be alone with Loki, even if only for a little while.
He finally got his wish around ten minutes later, after obs had been taken and blood samples drawn. Once the final medic left, B-15 had made a brief but impassioned speech to Loki, offering undying appreciation from the entire staff of the TVA, and on behalf of the entire multiverse.
“I’m really glad you’re back,” she'd finished tearfully, then shot a meaningful glance at Mobius - albeit one steeped in ambiguity - before taking her leave.
Loki hadn’t spoken so much as a word since he’d been brought in. Mobius was uncertain whether this was due to frailness, unwillingness, or simply the difficulty of doing so effectively with the debilitating but necessary mask clamped over his mouth and nose.
The last time Mobius had heard Loki’s voice had been almost two months ago now, in linear time, sitting under ‘their’ tree in Ohio; the tree in the park where he’d sat and waited for Loki, anytime that Mobius wanted or needed to talk to him. It had only happened four more times following their initial rendezvous, and on one of those occasions OB had joined him out of necessity in order to submit poor Loki to a deluge of scientific inquiry, decidedly unwelcome when he was clearly growing frighteningly weaker by the day.
But the answers given had served their purpose countless times over, resulting in Loki's eventual extrication from the gluttonous, insatiable timelines that had, for all intents and purposes, been eating him alive. The process had been mystical in nature rather than biological, of course, but naturally it had affected Loki’s physical form as he’d had to persistently fight to keep himself alive.
Mobius had only visited Loki once in the Multiversal Tree, when they’d first figured out how to transport a team to him. He had been forbidden from returning, however, as seeing Loki like that — unmercifully imprisoned; almost cocooned, and horrifyingly malnourished — had disturbed him so greatly that he’d been absolutely useless to all of his colleagues for a decent day-cycle or two following, and took to absently wandering around looking ‘haunted’, as B-15 had succinctly put it.
He'd been unable to speak to Loki during that visit, because it was rather difficult to communicate with someone who was unconscious.
But now… now he was awake, if not overly aware. And although he admittedly looked an instant away from flatlining on the ominous heart monitor looming adjacent to the bed, it seemed he potentially had sufficient receptivity to understand words, at the very least.
That didn’t mean Mobius couldn’t make it a little easier for him.
“Har du det bra?”
Loki looked up at him with visible effort, eyes clearing marginally at the query.
His response was a tiny shake in the negative, though.
Mobius smiled at him sadly, wholly unsurprised. No, Loki was definitely not okay.
But he’d had to ask.
Loki sustained eye contact, however, and Mobius felt him attempt to move the hand that he was still holding. He released it reluctantly, and Loki placed it on the bed next to him, weakly lifting his fingers to tap the mattress a couple of times.
It only took a moment for Mobius to follow.
“You… you want me to sit with you?”
A nod, almost indiscernible.
Against his will, he was intending to protest, worried about jostling or dislodging some vital piece of tubing or equipment. But there was pleading in Loki’s eyes, plain and simple, and he was powerless to refuse.
Ultimately, however, it was the suggestion of undeniable fear in that beseeching gaze that won him over.
Loki was scared.
Mobius did not hesitate, once the realisation hit him.
Kicking off his hastily donned slip-on shoes, he carefully sat down next to Loki, easing himself back to rest against the elevated head of the bed. He took up Loki’s hand again, pulling it into his lap, and as he sat there stroking the papery skin with his fingertips, he felt Loki slide sideways to lean into him. His head rested upon Mobius’ shoulder, a couple of tendrils of mussed hair tickling his cheek.
And that’s when it really hit him.
How horribly he’d missed Loki.
How relieved he was to have him back.
How terrified he was at Loki’s prospects of a full recovery.
How hopelessly he cared for him.
The rein on his emotions that until now he’d been tenaciously grasping slipped in an instant, and before he knew it his chest was hitching with near-silent sobs, tears streaming unabashedly down his face.
Loki vaguely tugged against his hand again, and when Mobius let go, he tried his best to grasp Mobius’ hand in turn, pulling it towards him- no... over him.
Again, Mobius understood precisely what he wanted.
What he was offering.
Mindful of all the medical paraphernalia Loki was now attached to, Mobius cautiously slipped his arms around him, drawing him in close. He felt Loki melt against him, lax as his body already was, and Mobius sniffled quietly, shuddering as he fought for composure. A thin arm snaked over him feebly, and tucked in around his waist. Heart aching with tenderness, he pulled Loki in as firmly as he dared; concerned about hurting him, but so badly needing to assure him that he was safe.
That he was home.
Mobius slowly lifted a hand to comb his fingers through Loki’s hair with a gentle stroke, innately sensing how effectively it would calm and soothe him. He himself was a tangled bundle of stress, nerves, and worry — far too aware of how long a road they still had to walk before Loki was out of the woods. But if Mobius could attempt to shoulder the majority of the emotional burden, allowing Loki to relax and concentrate his energies on getting better, growing stronger, then he would take on that role with consummate commitment.
Pushing an errant curl behind Loki’s ear, he bent down lower, voice rough and congested as he softly murmured, “Welcome back, vennen min."
And then Mobius heard it. A muted hum, or perhaps grunt… a patently appreciative response, as the arm around him flexed instinctively. Breaking into a watery smile, relief and affection overwhelmed him to the point where he had to actively stop himself from kissing the top of Loki’s head.
He simply squeezed him a little tighter, giving him a light nuzzle with his cheek instead.
Loki was fast asleep only a few minutes later, as Mobius expected he’d be, and given the very late hour — in addition to being emotionally depleted — Mobius found his eyelids growing heavy as well. He wasn’t sure whether he was even allowed to be up on Loki’s bed with him, let alone sleeping there, but honestly, he didn’t give a damn.
Loki needed him.
He needed warmth, and safety, and security.
The steady reassurance that he was no longer alone.
And if Mobius was honest…
So did he.