It's amazing how there's an infinite number of universes and Loki doesn't belong in a single one of them.

He'd been so sure that when all was said and done, he could at least go back to Mobius. It didn't matter what happened; Mobius would always welcome him back with open arms. Now he can't even find Mobius. Not his Mobius, at least. Not the Mobius who knows him and loves him.

But there's still one person out there for him.

And that's how he ended up here, walking through the Citadel beyond the end of time once again. The first time was nerve-wracking because he didn't know who to expect. This time, it's nerve-wracking because he does.

She's still there, just sitting on the floor with her head down. She looks sad. She achieved her glorious purpose — He Who Remains's corpse on the ground says as much — and she just looks sad.

"You're too late," Sylvie says, her voice flat. She doesn't even look at him.

"Believe me, I've noticed," Loki says. He takes a seat on the floor next to her, and she only looks up at him briefly before returning her gaze to the floor.

They sit in silence for a while. It's an uncomfortable silence, though that says nothing of their relationship. If they were to speak, it would likely be an uncomfortable conversation, too. It's just an uncomfortable moment, really; an uncomfortable situation all around.

After a very long pause, Loki asks, "Did killing him make you feel better, at least?" That would be nice. Maybe they at least got one good thing out of this.

But when Sylvie looks over at him, all she says is, "Not at all."

Loki gives a humorless chuckle. "'Glorious purpose.'"

She shakes her head and mutters, "What a joke."

There's a lull in the conversation, and they both look away from each other, focusing their gaze to anywhere else in the otherwise-empty citadel.

This time, Sylvie's the first to speak, asking, "I sent you back to the TVA, right?"

"Mm." Loki nods.

"What's happening over there?" Sylvie asks. "Is everything okay?"

"The timeline is in shambles," Loki says. "They're completely overwhelmed. I don't think they'll even try to stop it. I don't think they can."

"And yet, here you are," Sylvie remarks. "I would have thought you'd be helping them — helping Mobius, at least. Whatever he's decided to do."

Loki drops his gaze to the floor. "Um, no, actually, Mobius..." He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. "He doesn't... Never mind." He waves that off. "I'd rather be here."

Sylvie scoffs. "Why?"

"Because you're here," he says simply. What more is there to it?

"Exactly," she says. "I just stabbed you in the back, remember?"

"And I just stabbed you in yours," Loki says with a shrug. When he reneged on their deal, taking down the man behind the curtain, it was nothing short of betrayal to her. He knows that as well as she does. "We're Lokis. It's what we do."

A small smile appears on her face at that. "I guess so."

"So, what are you going to do now?" Loki asks. "You've all but destroyed the TVA. They'll never be able to contain the Sacred Timeline, so they're practically useless. What next?"

Sylvie lets out a long breath. "I don't know."

Loki pats her back sympathetically. He doesn't want to speak just yet; he has a feeling she has more of an answer to give than just that.

"I've spent my whole life waiting for this, you know," she says. "Getting my revenge; saving other innocent little girls like me. But now that I've done it..."

"You don't know what to do next," Loki finishes quietly.

Sylvie swallows hard and nods.

"Would you like to figure it out together?" he asks.

Sylvie looks up at him in surprise. "What?"

"Well, I'm as clueless as you when it comes to what to do next," Loki says. "I'm not needed anywhere. I don't belong anywhere. We're Variants; we have nothing else left."

"'Else'?"

Loki shrugs sheepishly. "Well, you know, if nothing else, we still have each other. That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

Sylvie looks away, her face hidden by her hair. Loki just sits there, watching with a frown. That's not the reaction he'd been hoping for. He'd really thought they were going to stay together. He'd really thought...

He hears a quiet sob escape her chest, and he puts a hand under her chin, gently turning her head towards him. There are tears streaming down her face, and she pushes his hand away so she can wipe them off. Loki wants nothing more than to make her feel better. He just wishes he knew how.

"What's wrong?" Loki asks.

"Nothing," she chokes out. "It's just..." She sniffles. "No one's ever said that to me before. I've never really... had anyone before."

"But now you do," Loki says quietly. He puts an arm around her shoulders, and he pauses, checking to see if she'll ask him to stop. When she doesn't, he gently pulls her closer, and she buries her head in his chest.

They sit there for a while, the only sounds coming from Sylvie's soft sobs. Eventually, even that ends, but they don't pull away. He's not letting her go as long as she wants to stay here.

"You know," Loki says eventually, just to break the silence, "this is new for me, too. I've never felt this way before. There's just something about you that..." He trails off, unsure both of what to say and whether he can bring himself to say it.

Sylvie tilts her head to look up at him, staying still enough that Loki doesn't have to let her go. The sight of her red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks makes his heart ache.

"That what?" she asks softly.

Loki opens his mouth to speak, to finally say what he's been wanting to since Lamentis, but he can't bring himself to. He shakes his head to himself. He can't do it. He just... can't.

When Sylvie realizes he's not going to answer, she just rests her head on his shoulder, gazing out ahead of her. He rests his head on top of hers and lets out a long breath. Why is this so hard for him? He knows what he wants to say. Why can't he say it?

Eventually, Sylvie breaks the silence by saying, "Thank you."

Loki furrows his brows. "For what?"

"Coming back," she says. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't..."

"To be fair, you don't know what you'll do now," Loki reminds her. His presence isn't doing very much for her.

"Maybe not," she says, "but I've spent nearly my whole life alone, with every second of every day planned out years in advance. This is the first time I haven't been wholly focused on a mission; the first time I've..." She drops her gaze to the floor sheepishly. "The first time I've really had someone."

"I know," he says quietly. "But you have me now. Whatever happens, I'll be there for you."

"You said that before," she reminds him. "But when it came down to it..."

"I did everything I could to keep that promise," Loki says. "You pushed me away and I came right back." He lifts his head off of hers to look at her, and she looks back up at him with tears in her eyes. "You're the most important person in my life. I don't want to lose you. Whatever we do next, we do together, because—" He cuts himself off before he can say something he may live to regret.

"Because what?" Sylvie whispers.

He hesitates. He's never done this before. He's never said this to anyone. He's never felt this about anyone. The idea of saying it to her terrifies him — almost as much as the idea of never saying it.

He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"Because I love you."

Sylvie smiles, and, especially in a time like this, he truly believes it's the most beautiful sight in the world. "I think..."

Loki looks at her nervously. He wishes he could smile back at her, but the suspense, not knowing where this conversation will be going or what she's going to say, makes that an impossible task. He just hopes he didn't irrevocably fuck up this beautiful thing they have.

And finally, finally, Sylvie says, "I think I love you, too."

Loki breathes a sigh of relief, his lips curling up in the most genuine smile he's worn in a long time. In a teasing tone, he repeats, "You 'think.'"

Sylvie laughs softly. "Yes, I think. You should try it sometime."

"Oh, I don't know," Loki says playfully. "Thinking isn't really my forte."

"Believe me, I've noticed."

Loki tilts his head towards her and boops it against her head in a playful stop it motion, and they both laugh quietly. This time, when they lapse into silence, it's a comfortable one. They're both still smiling, enjoying each other's presence in this otherwise gloomy situation.

Sylvie looks up at him and asks, "Can we kiss again?"

He gives a small shrug. "I don't see why not."

"Because, I mean, the last one was nice," she continues.

"Very nice," he agrees.

"But it didn't really end..."

"Oh, yes, horrible ending. Absolutely horrible."

They just look at each other for a long moment, gazing into each other's eyes. It's a beautiful sight and a beautiful moment, but he has no qualms about ending that moment by leaning in and pressing their lips together.

It's a clumsy kiss at best. They're positioned a little awkwardly. Their noses are squished together. He tries to cup her cheek in his hand and he accidentally pokes her in the face with his thumb. (He mumbles an awkward apology, and he can feel her smile against his lips.)

No, it's not perfect. Far from it, in fact. But they have the rest of their lives to work on it. You know what they say: practice makes perfect.