|ɑgɛɳt ɱѳɓiuร (jetskiing) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2021-10-14 21:32:00
|By the Timekeepers, this was stressful.|
Mobius thought back to a day or so ago, when he’d told Sharon he was having a great time and would continue to have a great time - it was almost amusing, how things had been flipped on their head; she’d warned him that maybe he’d change his mind and he insisted he wouldn’t but. Well. He supposed he still wouldn’t, he just would rather have had less bloodstains involved.
She was currently resting in the master bedroom - Mobius had checked on her stitches and cleaned up the leftover chicken and stars soup; she’d fallen asleep thanks to the Vicodin, but honestly, sleep would do her good even if it came about from the painkillers. Then he rolled up his sleeves and opened a Timedoor to pick up Loki - the TemPad was still holding a decent charge, so he’d just go on and consider that the one bit of good luck going their way.
The glow of the portal faded to a dull sheen, closing shut behind him and Loki when they appeared in the foyer of Sharon’s penthouse. “Up here,” Mobius instructed, tucking the TemPad back into his pants pocket - he’d shucked off the jacket at some point and loosened his tie, a couple buttons of his shirt undone and he too probably needed a rest at some point.
“Thanks again for doing this. I definitely owe you one.” It was actually kind of funny, in a macabre way, Mobius guessed - he’d spent a literal millennia or two touch-starved and alone, and these days he was on a timeline where he was involved with not one but two people who liked to throw themselves into intrigue and danger.
If he hadn’t been gray before, he would have gotten there now.
"I feel we are even," Loki replied, taking in the surroundings. The air of the place felt like nothing good had transpired recently. As a creature who thrived on chaos, he looked more amused than put off by...whatever this development was. Despite a wry smirk, he turned to Mobius and said in a rush, "I'll preface this with I'm a sorcerer, not a healer. Given time, I can mend somewhat. But without one having regeneration or spells against wounds, or decapitation? They will need to heal the rest of their way on their own."
He pointed toward the bedroom, and couldn't help but tease a little, "Do tell, Mobius. Who is this beguiling creature that's ensnared you so?"
“It’s okay - whatever you can do, that’s more than helpful,” Mobius assured. He didn’t expect Sharon’s wounds to disappear completely but she’d been kind of not well off and her recovery time would be exponentially sped up with just a little boost. And he was certainly grateful for that.
But, oh, right - then came Loki’s questions. Mobius paused outside the master bedroom - and was he blushing? He was definitely blushing, heat and pink having flooded his face. “Sharon - she’s great. I’ve been seeing her for a little while. And Tony.”
Now he waited for Loki to need the fainting couch - since Mobius was well aware that those two had a weird history that involved bodies being tossed out of windows. And Loki once dating Tony’s daughter before he knew he’d sired her - and you know what, it was just a lot.
It wasn't a lot for this iteration of Loki. Each time he dreamt of what transpired elsewhere, the memories in this bubble universe became an impenetrable fog before being erased out of existence entirely. He fully became the Loki he dreamed of, and such was the case now. Even his past disgruntlement with Dr. Strange was lesser. It was a clean slate to hate the Midgardian sorcerer all over again.
This Loki looked amused at the blushing. It was like watching a young student squirm when first confronted about the deeds of birds and bees. He only raised an eyebrow about Stark, the wry smirk turning into a wide smile as they entered the bedroom.
"Making up for lost time. How charming. Tell your boyfriend I'm waiting on that drink he offered."
He quickly turned his attention to the injured woman inside the bedroom.
"Ah, a fair face and a propensity for trouble," he whispered conspiratorially. "Far prettier than Stark, and no facial hair involved. Surely that must chafe. Do you wish to wake your sleeping beauty? Magically knitting flesh could be a nasty surprise."
“I’ll let him know,” Mobius stated, a fondness to his tone despite the eyeroll which accompanied his reply. It was clearly asking the silent question why are you like this; something he very likely knew the answer to though, since much of his life at the TVA had involved studying Loki so intimately. But he wouldn’t get into that now (also it was true that the facial hair chafed but he definitely liked the scrape and stubble of it all - not something he needed to mention at the moment, however).
Into the room he went, pulling up a spot on the other side of the bed where Sharon was snoozing and ducking to brush his lips across her forehead; he’d wait until she was mostly conscious before letting her know what was going on. “Sharon, I brought Loki by - he’s gonna see what he can do about your injuries.”
He’d helped her change since then - her bloody and torn clothes (because he’d had to cut them away to do emergency stitches) had been taken out of the equation, and he’d just given her one of his t-shirts. No pants, due to the wound on her leg. Who needed pants anyway?
It’d been hours since Sharon came stumbling into her penthouse apartment covered in wounds and blood. Since then she’d been stitched up, drugged, changed, cleaned, fed, and put to bed. The second round of medicine really, really helped. Sharon was sleeping, the initial rounds of shock having passed. The pain was still there, though it was dulled by the drugs, and frankly, Sharon didn’t really care about it. (Thank you, opioids.)
When Mobius gently woke her, Sharon roused to consciousness slowly. She opened her eyes and blinked up at him, then broke into a sleepy smile at the sight of his face close to hers. “Hey,” she spoke softly, her voice dripping with fondness.
Then she caught sight of Loki, and the change was sudden. Her eyes snapped open. Loki was not one of the people she ever expected to be in her bedroom. Sure, Mobius vouched for him--they were friends, right?--but Sharon had only known him as… well, a villain. Enemy of the Avengers. (....though, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?)
Thoughts flickered too fast through her drug-addled mind for her to focus on any of them. She swallowed. “Loki. Thank you for coming.”
Although he had to compliment Mobius on his good taste - she was lovely - Loki knew that look for what it was. Waking up to a villain would be jarring. He felt his jaw tighten and knew his expression went from a teasing sweet into a bitter sour. Still, he was here as a favor to his friend. The bitterness was with himself.
He courteously nodded and replied, "Hello, and a good morn to you, madam. Mending this might cause some discomfort. Due to the nature of the spell, it's better to know and bear it, than jerk awake and make it worse. I will need to see the wound...or wounds. You've been through quite a lot, apparently. Nefarious deeds or dangerous fun?"
He smiled in a way that might be vaguely disconcerting, or slightly amused. It was hard to tell which.
Oh, if only Loki knew. The Powerbroker’s body count was growing, threatening to rival his own. She saw the look on his face change, and that made guilt bubble up within her. (Though, it was surprising that she could feel anything outside of pain and mind-numbing effects of the heavy-duty painkillers.) She took a deep breath and released it, giving a little tug on the thin blanket that covered her on the bed.
“Perhaps a little of both,” she gave a gentle shrug of her shoulder that made her wince in pain. Damnit. That’s what she got for trying to look cool.
No one was squeaky clean in this room - throwing stones in glass houses and all of that. Probably wasn’t a good idea? Still, Mobius knew that Loki had a bit of a reputation. He was in good company though - at best, Mobius himself had been a party to murder, during his tenure with the TVA. Lots of that, pruning people and places and forgotten trees (oh my) - the Void was filled to the brim with all sorts of danger, not to mention a giant smoke monster that was hungry and wasn’t merciful; it was littered with various types of debris, crashed SHIELD helicarriers and things like spaceships and statue heads. Just a bunch of junk, and death, and he’d sent people there.
Once he figured out what had been done to him - and what he’d been doing - he changed course. But he still had done all of that. The guilt wasn’t going to evaporate anytime soon either.
“Okay, tough guy, don’t move too much,” he chuckled, pulling the blankets back so he could expose the wound on Sharon’s leg - and the stitch job he’d done. “Lemme pull your shirt up a bit too.” Gently, he did it, just enough to let Loki see the wound on her side.
"A little of both makes things more interesting," Loki said, tilting his head and bending down to survey the damages as Mobius held the shirt back. Stitches were a strictly mortal construct, and these looked good enough. Healers in Asgard used seidr-weaving and were skilled enough to heal with few scars involved. This would no doubt leave a small mark.
"Nicely sewn," he noted. "I'll begin to mend things around it, and they can be removed in a day or two. I'll begin now, so please bear with me and remain still. It won't be so bad. Some stinging, but naught more than that."
With that assurance, he held up a hand near her ribs. This wound would cause the most discomfort overall. A green glow flowed from his fingertips, using healthy skin around the wound to necessitate healing to the afflicted area. It visibly began to close. As he worked at it, he continued talking, "Tough guy indeed. Apparently, someone wanted their pound of flesh from you."
Sharon wasn't shy. Not really. She was more than willing to let Mobius show off her battle wounds to Loki. If Mobius trusted him, then Sharon trusted him, too. For better or for worse, anyway. And her important parts remained covered. The hastily stitched together gash around her ribs was probably the most terrifying for poor Mobius as he sewed her back together, as it bled a lot The bullet wound on her thigh was simply in one side and out the other, missing the femur and simply tearing through muscle. Painful, yes, but nowhere near as life-threatening as the knife wound could have been.
A gentle chuckle escaped her at the comment about things being more interesting. "Careful, Loki, I might start to like you."
She was tough as nails, this Powerbroker, still, it stung. She inhaled sharply as Loki started his magic, and her hand balled into a fist around the bedsheets.
"There were three someones," she responded, a little bitterly. "I should have known he'd bring backup, the slimy coward that he was. But they're not a problem anymore."
Mobius wore this look on his face - something akin to don’t encourage her. But he and Sharon had that talk when she was still conscious, prior to the Vicodin knocking her into a land of cotton candy dreams and no-pain; he fully planned to have that talk with her again soon too - because while he absolutely appreciated how tough she was and her complications (what she did as the Power Broker wasn’t right, but you could understand how it came about) he didn’t want her to die basically sticking it to the government that had abandoned her. That wasn’t a cause to go out for - and Mobius wanted many years with her still.
“Thanks again for doing this,” he said to Loki, reaching for one of Sharon’s hands - he’d give her something to squeeze so she didn’t have to grip the bedsheets. “It’s pretty incredible.” Really, it was - the way the skin was just knitting back together, speeding things along? He felt a lot better already.
Loki liked helping actually; it made him feel useful. He even smiled at Sharon's warning that she might start to like him too. As he moved to the wound on her leg, he spoke softly, focusing on weaving muscle and flesh back together.
"Make no mention of it, Mobius. I'm happy to help a friend in need." Mostly because Loki didn't have too many friends. At the most, he only really trusted three people as friends because they earned it by helping him in a time of need. Family and romantic partners weren't included, of course. "You'll need to remove the stitches by tomorrow evening. And if you took care of the three that did this to you?" He winked up at Sharon. It was a sly wink, indeed. "All the better."
Many years. It was a good thing that he hadn’t actually said those words out loud. While Sharon wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea, she was also a little skittish about it. It’d been years and years since she’d even considered spending years with another person. And that person… well, let’s just say he apparently wasn’t interested in spending years with her. Or months. Or weeks, or even days. Hours? It hadn’t even been hours, come to think of it.
Her hand gave his a squeeze, but she didn’t want to hurt him with her grip. The more it healed, though, the less it stung. That was, until Loki moved to the bullet wound and it started over again. She inhaled sharply and squeezed Moibius’s hand a little tighter.
“Mmmph, right, stitches out, tomorrow evening…” she repeated, wrapping the instructions around her mind. The wink was sly, but Sharon definitely caught it. It made the corner of her mouth turn up in a smirk. “Indeed,” she responded. “I couldn’t let them get away with this insult.”
But Mobius wanted her to stop putting herself in harm’s way... And she’d promised to consider it.
“Can do,” Mobius promised about the stitches. “I’m sure Sharon wants them out as soon as possible too.” And the fact that she wouldn’t have to explain her injuries to any other doctor? A bonus. At the very least, her wounds wouldn’t clearly look like she’d been shot at and stabbed - so that was a silver lining.
He was going to take what he could get, in this scenario. “Definitely still rest here though,” he added to her. “I don’t think we need to rush back to the Tower for another day or two. Though when we get back - maybe we could get together under better circumstances?”
That was directed to Loki. Mobius did want to see his friend, without all the doom and peril. Catch up and all of that.
"Of course. Let me know when," Loki replied to Mobius, finishing up. At least the leg wound was more clear cut and thus easier to mend than the other. As he finished, he stood upright and nodded to them both. "Definitely rest, and let it mend the rest of the way. Do not move overly much or find yourself in any further trouble, hm?"
He grinned at them both, knowing the pair probably wanted some time alone now that the worst of things was over with.
"I do hate to heal and run," he told them both, "but I should return to Asgardia."
Before Loki had a chance to leave, Sharon released Mobius’s hand and reached forward. She brought her fingertips to touch Loki’s wrist, to get his attention.
“Thank you,” she breathed, giving him a small, tired smile. Already feeling a hundred times better, she knew she would owe the speed of her recovery to Loki’s magic. And she had no idea how she was going to be able to repay that kindness.
Sharon would follow Healer Loki’s orders, Mobius was going to ensure that. “Here, let me open another Timedoor for you,” he said, pushing off the bed so he could slip the TemPad free from his pocket and program the coordinates for Asgardia.
The glowing door flickered into focus a second later, a portal that would take Loki back home. “See you soon, friend-o.”
Oh, he would. That was a promise (and Mobius always kept his promises).