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Sylvie brings him French fries from 1982 sometimes. They taste better than anything Mobius has had in his mouth since he left the TVA. She tells him it’s something to do with the grease, or a decline in the quality of potatoes sourced for fast food restaurants. Maybe they used more salt in the past. He half listens and chews, nodding when appropriate.
It's not that he’s a charity case to her. He knows that, even without her saying it. Sylvie doesn’t do charity cases. Mobius isn’t quite sure what he is to her, but she visits him now and then, bringing a greasy bag through a time door, and wearing a small, enigmatic smile.
He’s moved twice since he last saw her. Cleveland wasn’t an option. Mobius tried to settle down outside Chicago, but the winters were bad and it was still too close to the Great Lakes. Too close to Don and the kids. So, he moved to St. Louis and the winters were also bad, but he liked the city, and every time he saw a personal watercraft it hurt but he was getting used to it.
When Sylvie showed up, stepping through a time door with her greasy gift of food, the girls were about to break for the lunch period. He blew his whistle and sent them off to the locker rooms, telling them to be good and eat their vegetables. Half of them rolled their eyes, but some of them smiled, and he considered that a win.
They sat on the bleachers. Mobius cracked open a can of Reign Inferno, in jalapeño strawberry flavor, and offered it to Sylvie. She shook her head, not even trying to hide her disgust, and held up the soda she’d brought.
She opened the bag and dug out a fry, then handed Mobius his burger. “You work at a school now?” she asked. “Did they hire you because of your ability to give speeches laden with folksy aphorisms?”
“Of course not.” Mobius set down his drink and unwrapped his burger. “I also have a mustache. They were practically begging me to be a coach.”
They ate in silence, watching as kids drifted onto the bleachers to eat their sack lunches and terrible cafeteria food.
Sylvie slurped her drink and pointed to a kid wearing rolled-up jeans and a leather jacket with patches and spikes. “It’s funny how the things they wear aren't that different.”
“From 1982? Yeah, that tracks.” Mobius wiped special sauce from his chin. “Made things easier at the TVA because you only need four core outfits for any century. The details cycle about every thirty years, so you can reuse the older clothes when fashions change.”
Sylvie snorted, clearly considering making a jab at the TVA’s choice of uniform, but her mouth was full.
“Now that one—” Mobius pointed at a girl with half her head shaved. The other half stuck out in a mohawk. She was wearing tight leather pants and a plaid sleeveless vest with no undershirt. “She’s at the height of fashion but she also got caught bringing knives to prom, so, we’ll see what her future holds.”
“She should get a commendation.”
Mobius laughed. “Sometimes I forget you never went to high school and then you say something like that.”
Sylvie scoffed. “There’s never anything wrong with bringing a weapon to a place you feel unsafe.”
“I’ll tell that to the principal next time I catch her with one.” An impromptu soccer game started on the field and they watched as the kids jostled for the ball, not following any of the rules. Mobius finished his burger and crumpled the wrapper.
Sylvie wiped her hands on her trousers. “He told me once that love was a dagger.” She didn't have to specify who he was.
“That sounds … dramatic.” Mobius took a deep breath. “Very appropriate. On brand, as the kids would say.”
“I think he was trying to impress me. He gave a big speech.”
Mobius chuckled. “Also on brand. Loved to talk.”
Sylvie smiled but she wouldn’t look at Mobius. “He was drunk at the time but he meant it, I think.”
They hadn’t talked about him. When Sylvie visited before, they exchanged pleasantries but never delved beneath the surface. He thought of her visits as check-ins. Not charity, exactly, but maintenance of their connection. Like she was afraid that if they never spoke again, somehow they might lose him. Again.
Mobius swallowed. The fries still tasted delicious but he wished they didn’t. “He cared about you.”
“I know.” Sylvie fiddled with the sleeve of her coat. A cool breeze ruffled her curls and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “And I—”
“Just because he had feelings for you doesn’t mean you were obligated to—”
She cut him off with a look. “Mobius, I know. My emotional growth may have been stunted by an adolescence spent jumping between worlds, but I am an adult woman, thank you very much.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. I’ve spent the last eight months surrounded by teenage girls, so my instincts kicked in. You would not believe the lengths they go to just to impress one another.”
“I would, actually.” Sylvie raised her eyebrows.
“Touché.”
Her voice was stronger now. She said, “His feelings for me, whatever they were, helped me see that I could have a future that wasn’t just revenge and…”
“Jumping between worlds?”
She nodded. “I never told him this but—”
“Now we’re getting to the good stuff!” Mobius rubbed his hands together and wiggled, almost knocking over his giant energy drink. “Gossip, I love it. Lay it on me. Spill the tea, sister.”
“Okay, calm down,” Sylvie said, somehow sounding even more proper than any Asgardian had ever sounded. “I read his mind. A little.”
“Oh yeah? When?”
“On Lamentis. I didn’t get much. All I could see were recent memories, nothing far back enough or important enough to enchant him with. Or so I thought.” Sylvie pursed her lips, then looked down. “He told me his mind was too strong for me to access.”
“Was it?”
She laughed. “Pfft, no.”
Mobius smiled. It hurt. It was exactly what he needed, talking about him fondly. It was excruciating. He asked, “See anything juicy in there while you were having a look around?”
She didn’t answer right away, so he added, “I’m operating on the assumption that he can hear us right now if he wants to. That alleviates any lingering guilt over having conversations about him that he can’t participate in.”
“I saw you.” Sylvie took the bag of fries and tipped it over, spilling a handful of crumbs into her palm. “And B-15, and Casey holding a blue thing. A salad, for some reason?”
“I’m not even sure I can explain that one and I was there.”
She ate the crumbs, then licked her palm, unself-conscious. Lost in a memory she’d stolen from a version of herself. “I saw you in a drab hallway.”
“Could’ve been anywhere at the TVA.”
“There were lockers.”
Mobius exhaled, not sure where this was going. Always hard to tell, with Lokis.
“You handed him a dagger.” Sylvie looked at him, then, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “You trusted him enough to put a dagger in his hand. You gave a weapon to a Loki while standing right next to him. Before you knew the truth about the TVA, before what we saw in the void — you trusted him not to stab you.”
“That I did.”
She shook her head. “No one else would’ve done that. No one in the entire universe would've done that. I wouldn’t have done that.”
Mobius chuckled. “Yeah, well, it didn’t stick. B-15 took them from him straight away.”
“And she was right to!” Sylvie gestured with her hands, then folded them on her lap. “Anyway. Love is a dagger.”
He repeated, “Love is a dagger? That’s what he said?”
Sylvie bumped her shoulder against his. “Love is a dagger. From your hand to his, whether he knew it or not.”
Mobius looked away, tears pricking his eyes. It all came back, all of a sudden. That moment at the end, where Loki looked back at them before he opened the door. The helplessness he felt, the fear and the overwhelming sense that something bigger than he understood was happening and he was powerless to stop it. Mobius swallowed, tasting salt and regret and jalapeño strawberry artificial flavoring.
His watch beeped, reminding him of the time. It was always passing here, ever forward.
“That’s my five-minute warning.” He stood. “Afternoon class is the seniors. They’re a handful, I’ll tell you.” Mobius reached out a hand to Sylvie. She took it, letting him help her stand up. He didn’t let go immediately, nor did she. They didn’t quite meet each other’s eyes, but the moment held. It was nice. It was enough.
She was waiting in the parking lot after classes and afternoon practice let out. Sylvie perched on the hood of his car, drinking an iced coffee. When he approached, she handed him one.
“I’m going to have to tell my doctor that a time-traveling alien is the one to blame for my cholesterol,” Mobius said. “Not sure she’ll believe me, though.”
Sylvie slurped her drink, then said, “I could enchant her for you.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He leaned against the bumper of his Honda Fit and took a drink. The coffee was from a little place called Starbucks in Pike Place Market in 1983, so she’d taken a trip to get it. According to the label, she’d asked them to add extra sugar.
The sun was setting, bathing the plain brick building in an orange glow. After a moment, Mobius said, “For what it’s worth, I think Loki was wrong. Big metaphor guy. Made him sound smart but a lot of the time he was talking out of his ass.”
Sylvie laughed, looking down at her sensible sneakers. She slid down the car and stood next to him. It was a beautiful sight, a smiling Sylvie.
“Love isn’t a dagger. Or it isn’t just a dagger, anyway.” Mobius shook his head and continued, not quite sure where he was going with this but determined to carry on. “Love is a date at the end of a world. You guys got an asteroid, I got a volcano. Love is going back to a place you hate because someone you care about asked you to.” He paused. “That’s you, going back to the TVA, in case it wasn’t obvious.”
She didn’t say anything but she bumped him with her shoulder again.
“Love is a piece of pie and it’s risking your skin for someone. It’s friendship and trust, and yeah it’s attraction, too, and it’s having fun together at the World’s Fair. It’s a burger on a spring day and a tree at the gosh-darned center of the world. Love is everything around us. It’s not a dagger because it’s not just one thing.”
He swallowed, suddenly realizing his heart was racing. It wasn’t the coffee, but he could pretend.
“I think you were wrong, Mobius,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She turned to face him. “They definitely hired you for your little speeches.”
He laughed.
Sylvie brought out her TemPad and opened a time door. Before she stepped through it, she gave him a hug and said, “Goodbye Mobius.”
“See you later, alligator,” he called after her.
Mobius scuffed his loafer against the pavement, willing his heart to slow down and his tears to stay in his eyes.
An obnoxious voice to his side snickered. “Check it out, Coach Marty has a girlfriend!” A group of teens were standing around a beat-up van. Some were members of his track team, some he didn’t know.
“Cut it out, Jason,” Mobius shouted to the kid. “Pull up your pants and leave those girls alone. Don’t make me come over there!”
Mobius shook his head and got into his car. His hands were shaking. He put them on the wheel but didn’t start the engine. He needed to let some time pass first.
When he finally managed to pull on his seatbelt and start the car, both the little green turn signals on his dash blinked at him until he turned them off. As he drove home, every light turned green as he pulled up, then even the red and yellow lights turned to green. Traffic announcement signs flashed green. Lights illuminating the billboards on the highway turned green, and the streetlights clicked on, even though it was still day. Their lights were green.
At his housing complex, the letters on the sign announcing “Luxury Condominiums” sparked, then went dark. A moment later, only the “L” and one of the “m”s lit up.
Mobius shook his head and muttered, “Everything around us. Dramatic. On brand. I get it, Loki, I get it.”
At the center of time, deep within the branches of a tree, the god of stories smiled.