Chapter Text
Oh great, a babysitter.
You ran a thumb over your wrist, over the four little words you’d known your entire life, the four words that would jumpstart your future as soon as they were spoken aloud to you. They were the first words that your soulmate would say to you. And apparently you were going to have to babysit for them. You’d gotten used to that scenario by now. Children came through the TVA all the time, having varied from their respective timelines, usually unintentionally, and every time you saw one appear in the lobby you kept an ear out for those four little words.
Of course, you didn’t have much interaction with passing variants, being a lower ranking employee of the Time Variance Authority. Your main purpose was to fetch coffee and paperwork for the more important workers. You didn’t even know where they were taken after sentencing, pruned or imprisoned, but you assumed one day some gorgeous TVA soldier would pass through your hall, tasked with escorting some unruly child variant. And you assumed they’d mistake you for a child handler, someone to properly prepare a young time swindler for trial. And you assumed once you had figured the situation out and shared a laugh over this mistake, they’d ask you to go out after work. And you assumed you’d live happily ever after until the end of time. Or something like that.
“Next case please.”
With the bang of a gavel you’re jolted from your daydream, you sat up straight, pulling your stiff sleeve over the words on your wrist as Hunter B-15 entered the courtroom with yet another variant. You’d been watching the proceedings come and go all day, studying in the hopes of trying for a promotion soon. More often than not it played out the same, variants feigning confusion or begging for their lives, the judge laying down a firm hand, and the hunters carrying them back out the door, often with excessive force. You couldn’t let yourself look bored, though, lest Judge Renslayer take notice.
“Laufeyson,” her voice echoed through the chamber. “Variant L1130, AKA Loki Laufeyson, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89.”
Not a child, you thought with a sudden shiver of disappointment. As you prepared to settle in for the trial you felt it, an energy concentrated on the back of your head. You looked up at the variant approaching the stand, a pair of eyes like infinity stones boring into your soul. Typical criminal intimidation tactic, but you were shaken nonetheless. You gritted your teeth, forcing the sparks in your stomach to settle as the trial commenced.
“How do you plead?”
The variant chuckled with a confidence you were sure you didn’t even have a third of.
“Madam, a god doesn’t plead.”
Even from behind you could tell he was smiling, proud of himself no doubt for seemingly outwitting the formidable judge. What an idiot. This banter went on for some time, Judge Renslayer never once losing her composure as the supposed god tried to snark himself out of his current situation with futile conviction.
“How do you plead?” The judge repeated, now losing her precious patience.
“Guilty…..”
He outstretched his arms-
“.....of this.”
-and with a strain of effort, closed his fists.
Nothing happened. Small bouts of laughter began to rise from the few other employees populating the courtroom as the variant attempted to perform some kind of magic, once again to no avail.
“DAMN IT! Why won’t it work?” He growled.
“Magic powers? They're no good in the TVA, Mr. Laufeyson,” Renslayer said with a tasteful touch of condescension. “The court finds you guilty, and I sentence you to be reset.”
He started to panic; they always do. His mask of charismatic coldness had melted away to reveal a scared child. His eyes caught yours again, no longer feeling like they were penetrating your soul but rather drawing it to him. You almost wanted to reach out and help him. He took a breath and just as quickly the mask returned, his jaw setting and his eyes nearly lighting up with anger as he violently fought the hunters’ embrace.
“You will not dictate how my story ends!”
“It's not your story, Mr. Laufeyson. It never was.”
The hunters tightened their restraint on the variant as he continued to struggle, fruitlessly. He was nothing if not determined. Or perhaps just stubborn.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of!”
“I think I might.”
A man stood up from the bench in front of you, his grey hair reflecting the overhead lights. You’d seen him come in just before the trial started; Mobius, an analyst. He approached Judge Renslayer at her bench, conversing quietly for a moment before leaving with the mysterious god/variant. You’d never seen a TVA agent do something like this, you thought to question the judge, though you ultimately decided you’d rather not risk seeming presumptuous towards your superior.
“Next case please.”
_____
You’d only just left the courtroom when Hunter B-15, an aura of irritability around her. The life of a TVA minuteman was stressful, you were thankful at least that all your work was done in one building, one time period.
“You!” She grabbed your shoulder. “Get Mobius, tell him to meet me in the locker room.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is,” your response coming out more like a question than you intended.
“Time Theater 5, I don’t have all day,” the hunter replied sternly before walking away towards the lockers.
As you power-walked to the interrogation rooms, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. There had been a rash of minuteman killings across time recently, this was probably another attack. It scared you to think that the TVA, the agency you trusted with your life, had perhaps found its match. Most variants were apprehended with relative ease, so when a criminal couldn’t be caught, it was at least cause for a little alarm.
You wondered another thing as you approached the door of Theater 5: was the variant from earlier still inside? Loki, the god? You nearly walked straight into the door, lost in thought before the guard outside stepped out to block you. You flashed your id card showing your clearance to fetch the agent and the guard stepped back to his post, pulling the door open with him. You stepped in to find Loki on the floor, Mobius’s hand outstretched in a gesture you didn’t know was allowed between agents and their charge. Not wanting to interrupt a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway until Mobius finally noticed you.
“Um, can I help you?”
“Yes! Sorry, Hunter B-15 sent me to get you. She said to meet in the locker room, there's a situation.”
“There’s always a situation.” Mobius rolled his eyes, hopping up the steps towards the doorway. “Hey, could you be a dear and watch him while I’m gone? I just don’t trust him,” he said with a cheeky smile and a slow shake of his head. He was out the door before you had time to answer, the guard closing it soon after, leaving you alone. In a room. With a potentially dangerous variant.
You turned back towards him, those eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were almost glassed over, indifferent, annoyed. And still that mask.
“Oh great,” he said, his voice absolutely oozing with sarcasm, “a babysitter.”
You felt the blood leave your head, your veins turning to ice. You couldn’t deal with this, not right now. There was just no fucking way. This had to be some weird cosmic joke a coworker was playing on you. Did someone tell him to say that? Had Mobius somehow seen the words on your wrist, did he think a joke like this on an unsuspecting secretary was funny? You hadn’t even properly entered the time theater but you were already backing towards the door, fumbling with the handle as you focussed your energy into summoning the words from your throat.
“Sorry I- excuse me,” you hardly whispered as you leaned your weight into the door and practically fell into the hallway, your mind still not quite processing what had happened. You misheard him, or it was a coincidence. He couldn’t be your soulmate, he was a variant. It just didn’t make sense. But then what did?
The door slammed behind you, plunging the time theater into silence. Loki stood frozen in place, the words you’d spilled out just before you left echoing around his mind. He could barely hear it but he knew what you said just from reading your lips. He knew those words by heart; he’d committed them to memory, those four little words he’d known his entire life.