Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’d like to spend that time with my Noah.” 

Of course, she can’t tell him the full truth, not this close to the end, right before her success. But even if she could, how would she explain to him that she was complacent, responsible , for the countless years of pain; it was selfish of her to even wish for having more time in a body on the verge of giving out. 

And so, once their quiet sobs slow as she began to face the fate she’d cheated so long ago, she takes some time to think. Consul M– no, Mio , because that’s really who she’d always been, and she's tired of pretending she isn’t, and looks back on the path Noah had put them on all those years ago. She couldn’t see the start anymore.

What happened? Where did they go so wrong?

Maybe it was the moment she’d met Noah. 

She couldn’t quite remember what lifetime she’d first met Noah. It didn’t happen every time, but when their paths crossed, they’d both felt an inexplicable pull nestled tight in their chest towards the other.

Sometimes, they’d both defected, hidden away in any little corner of Aionis that was safe, wasting away their days tucked into each other, daring the world to tear them apart, yet feeling an immense guilt that they’d run away. 

Noah was tormented by inaction. He was haunted by the shadows of thousands upon thousands of corpses he’d never seen but that his body still remembered, his fingers twitching in a rhythmic pattern of an instrument he’d never played, in love with a walking ghost. 

So obsessed Mio was with her impending death, too focused on how much time she had instead of doing something with it that she’d never understood just how tormented he was until it was too late. Until he’d shattered while her body disintegrated, and she’d finally understood what it meant to really live, something buried under layer upon layer of tragedy that she wasn’t sure Noah had ever realized. Maybe she could have stopped all this if she’d gotten over herself, been there for him the way he’d tried for her.

Would it have been enough, though? After all, for as many lifetimes as they’d spent together, in just as many he'd killed her or she’d killed him, or they’d killed each other, feeling strangely hollow afterwards, caught up on the possibilities of a life never meant to be, of a boy that always wanted more than he could have, of a girl who’d thought she felt the same yet found herself sated by her own death.

And so it went. Over and over and over again, she and Noah had revolved around each other, an inescapable orbit, finding their way back over and over and over again, loving each other and killing each other and dying for each other over and over and over again in this mockery of infinity they’d been trapped in.

She knew, almost vindictively now, that it was true. That for as much as Z postured and boasted about his “Endless Now”, a moment frozen in time for infinity, even infinity can’t last forever. Mio and Noah are living proof of it, their clocks paused, the game cheated, yet she was about to die anyways just like Noah always been so afraid of. And in a bitter rush, she’d found herself excited about it, rage long buried bursting to the surface.

Maybe they really were doomed from the start.

But saying that was also a lie– or at the very least, purposefully ignoring major parts of the truth. Something she’d mutter to herself so she didn’t have to accept culpability in any of this and could pin it all on Noah. But even if where she’d come from was hazy, this was the end and it was clear.

Everything she’d planned was in motion. Why not be honest to herself?

Maybe, then, it was when Z finally reached Noah.

It was conniving, waiting for millennia of cycles until he could smash the shaky foundation Noah had crafted for himself, at the very end of the one go-around that they’d finally broken off the yolk.

She desperately hoped once being woken back as Moebius that he’d change his mind, and a spark of her Noah would shine through so they could both face the rest they’d earned.

Of course, they could never go back to how they were, no matter how deeply she wanted to.

She stood on the edge of a precipice, staring down at the wreckage of the creation they’d labored over, dedicated themselves to expanding, committed to by having a child to secure a legacy for themselves.

The bodies had all been drawn away to the seafloor, guided by the inexorable push and pull of the tides. All that remained were scarce articles of clothing that outlived their wearers and the foundation that hadn’t yet collapsed, maybe to wash away on the distant shore, maybe to float until they too decayed.

He’d done it then. Sealed their fates, once and for all.

She’d be there to see it all now. She could watch the broken remains of it all fade away to a time she was no longer restricted to.

He stood with her, head turned upwards and sneering at the rubble, as if the ghosts of those he’d slaughtered would notice and compliment how committed he was, how devoted he must have been to do all this only for one woman.

She screamed at him, enraged he’d do this to them, betrayed that he would push her into this, a burden she’d carry forever and one without any opportunity to run away from. All so he wouldn’t have to let her go in the greatest betrayal of what she’d thought they’d cared about, who they were as people, and perhaps worst of all, she couldn’t let go of this nagging feeling that had been hovering over her ever since he’d spoken to Z that she was responsible.

Mio hadn’t ever fully grasped the breadth of Noah’s pain, but of course she’d known about it. How could she have not?

Living under the oppression of the cycle took a heavy toll. It was why they all fought so hard to raise their colony’s rank, in hope that eventually they could stop fighting and find some purpose outside of death, all for a chance to do anything else with what little time they were given.

Mio had wanted that too. She’d wanted more for herself than living to fight just to live only for the fight. She wanted more time, just like everyone else. But in the end, even she too had smiled.

And that was something Noah had never managed. 

Because it was true that Mio had wanted more, but Noah coveted more, needed it like he needed air to breathe. And a ravenous little thing grew inside, rising and smoldering and eventually blazing, burning him inside out, because Noah could never stop once he’d gotten a taste of more, couldn’t live with the possibilities of missing out when he could’ve had something greater.

But it wasn’t enough to burn himself, because Noah needed more, needed to drag her along with him and throw themselves both into the flames, because even when he’d had everything he’d ever wanted he couldn’t stop if he couldn’t have her because Noah never understood when it was time to quit .

She used to adore that about him. How he’d hoped one day they could have each other and everything else they’d never been given, and how brightly he burned with that desire, a beacon when she’d gotten lost in the dark. His hopes were her dreams, but dreams are hazy, immaterial, and what could so easily be a dream can become a nightmare but it’s not because she’s not asleep right now and she’s never going to wake up.

She’d like to say that was the end of it. How she wished she could say it was her breaking point, and she swore him off in righteous rage, dragging them both out from the hole he’d dug them into so they could both face the light and repent.

But lost as she was, a thought struck her: what else did she have left? 

There was no place for Mio in this world anymore, nowhere the jagged edges of herself he'd forced back together would fit into except by his side.

The endless now had become their endless then. Mio was left behind in the ashes, Consul M born anew as the wheel turned on yet another cycle, one she wouldn’t ever fall victim to again, where she’d never have to die in his arms and they could go on forever spiraling towards their new infinity.

This was what they’d wanted, right? What she’d wanted?

So she blindly grasped for his hand, took it into hers, and turned towards him, a sense of calm settling over her.

The fire in his eyes died down, the manic light present ever since he’d accepted Z’s offer dimmed. Her other hand rose almost unprompted, finding a place on his face. She closed her eyes, leaned into him, and stepped over the edge.

If their fates weren’t sealed before, they surely were now.

She knew what it was. What else could have driven him to tear down everything they’d ever wanted, and slaughter their own child. What else could have tethered them through thousands and millions of lifetimes, through life and death and love and loss and rebirth, a tale so grand it had swallowed them both up.

He loved her. And that would be enough.

She pushed down the little voice inside her asking “ but is it really?” and took his hand once more, walking with him into their new forever, their previous path left behind, and the path ahead undefined, living in the now.

Mio snorts, bitterly smiling at the ground in front of her. She knew the truth, now, what she’d fought so hard against accepting to try and keep some imitation of normal.

He did love her, if only love was something that could be won. But he couldn't win against what was coming up, had no idea just what was lying in wait, and that's how she knows he doesn’t love her at all anymore.

To love someone is to lose them, raging and lashing at whatever separates you until your weary body gives out from under you even if you don't succeed. And after you swear and curse and cry, you pick yourself off the ground knowing that you did everything you could, but it wasn't enough, and finding a way to be okay with that truth.

It was grinning at whoever loved you when your time came, because you surely had a good run raging right alongside them to stop the inevitable, closing your eyes while you drifted and knowing it was worth it to try even if you failed.

It wasn't the results that mattered, and whether or not you got what you wanted was as important as how you accepted it.

Noah could never accept the things he couldn't have, and just as much, couldn't accept the things he couldn't control. He'd plant his blade deep deep into the earth when facing an inevitability, stumbling and trembling but refusing to fall and forcing the world to give out, even if the ground that held him up crumbled too.

Even if whoever stood with him crumbled.

He's going to be the one break this time. And unlike before, she refuses to hold him together while she falls to pieces.

She waited for him to change as Moebius longer than they'd ever been together in the cycle, just hoping that if she held him up enough, loved him back hard enough, that the shaky foundation he'd forced together while challenging the unchallengeable would somehow repair itself. But it never happened. It wouldn’t ever be the solution.

She couldn’t ever be the solution.

But younger her, naive her, kept sight of that desperate vision, as years and years went by. M named each and every star, the only real constant in a world that kept passing without her input, as if she’d never mattered to it in the first place, drifting.

The other consuls had called her boring for not “enjoying herself”, playing with the lives of thousands of innocents as if they were children’s dolls. She first considered it disdainful. Except dolls can be played with nicely, can't they?

Z never bothered regulating the actions of any of his Consuls. Handpicked as they were, none of them would dare jeopardize the Endless Now supporting their delusions of the “future” they could have.

M could have taken control of a colony too just like the others. She didn't have to be cruel. It would've been possible for her to show them how to see and experience more than a lifetime of bloodshed, and really show them how to live.

She never did. It would've been more cruel than puppeteering their strings like some of her contemporaries were fond of to give them everything they could hope for just to tear it away, forever banished to however many millions of lost memories they had.

It was better if only regrets were left behind. If they were to forget it all and start back over hopefully it'd be mostly bad memories, for a new chance to try again, a chance to come out on top. She pointedly never lingered over the thought that even her worst lifetimes were worth more than what she was now.

She felt a perverted excitement when she saw the Consuls were willing to play at being people again, lowering themselves down like the cattle they raised just for a chance to walk amongst them, and privately wondered if this was what N had sacrificed so much over, a troupe of pretenders playing at being real people while gleefully perpetuating their misery.

But like always, N was just too good for pretending, considering it beneath his stature. So long as he had his perfect prize by his side, everything else could burn.

And when she looks to him, she thinks that Noah might've been burned even worse than Mio.

She remembers learning something about fires, back in the City. Ways to put them out.

The biggest blazes, the most dangerous, can't be washed away. A fire needs its fuel, and sometimes there's just not enough water to compete.

So they don't douse them. They cut them off from the world, siphon off their fuel, cut their losses over what's lost and rebuild.

That's where it all starts.

And when given an offer from the queen, to not only fix her mistakes, but get him to really pay attention to her for once?

She can’t say no.

Everything she’s done has been working towards this moment, she considers, as she checks off the last tick on the calendar her other self carried. They started crying in the cell opposite her a while ago. They don’t know it yet, but everything is going to be just fine for them.

But N, who could never leave well enough alone, visited them, taunting and mocking a helpless audience just to get in the last word, a move so typical of him she can’t help but scoff to her feet. 

He barely even glanced her way, a small shift of his pupils, with nary a word in between. 

Mio is enraged once more. "Look at me”, she thinks as she locks eye contact. Really take a look and see what you've done to me. What you've done to us .

She doesn't want to give him a chance to run away from this, yet another opportunity to pretend to themselves that they're all just fine. She wants to tell him, about her plan, about how she's ecstatic to get to move on and leave him here alone to clean up the mess.

And it's right there, bursting from the back of her throat, about to sluice out like a great tidal wave. It'll destroy him, extinguish the flame she'd so hoped to go out and then they'd both be dragged under the tide, forgotten as they were always meant to be.

But then she sees it, and Mio slams her jaw back together, teeth grinding back against each other for a purpose entirely unrelated to the preservation of her plans.

It's buried. Under justification after justification, pillowed beneath the myriad of half truths he'd lied to himself about so he could stand under the crushing landslide of his sins. 

But it's there and it's present. She sees it: Noah is afraid.

She wants to open her mouth and laugh . What does he have to be so scared about? Isn't this his plan, or is he getting cold feet about killing his one true love?

He notices something is off. But he won’t ask. He never does.

N turns away. So does she.

She hears a click faintly in the background, and stands up free once more, if only for a moment. 

Time’s up, then.

She quietly, hesitantly, turns to face the guard, and steels herself, turning to face N, because she deserves this, deserves some answers for once, and he won’t tell her. 

He doesn't meet her eyes, but she studies his face nonetheless, searching. He's settled on this, isn't he?

He meets her eyes just once, just like she'd wanted. He's still scared.

It's in the subtle tense of his jaw, the minute twitching of his fingers aching for his weapon to cut down the origin of his terror, the way he's subtly angled himself to scramble and hide, even though she knows full well he won't let go of this.

It's in the mania she can still see in him. She wonders now, was it always so dull? When did it change? When did she stop looking?

And it's more than fear. He's tired, exhausted, something otherworldly shining beneath the unassuming surface of his forever young body.

It's an expression she recognizes well when she stares at her own warped reflection in the sea of their greatest regret. And for just the smallest moment, Mio is afraid too.

She shouldn't feel like this. He hurt her. He broke her down into tiny shards, too sharp to fit back together without him holding them into place. He destroyed everything they’d worked for, smothered out every last bit of hope of ever going back, carving out a place for them amongst their oppressors, never offering her a choice. He's about to kill her.

She hates him, she wants him to disappear, see the betrayal in his eyes as he shatters the way he’d broken her just to make him feel anything , to matter to him the way she used to.

Shouldn’t she feel like this? He loved her, would hold her in his arms while they stared up at the night sky, and no matter how shaky her feet were and how close she was to giving out, he made her feel invincible. He’d reach out across the space between them, cupping her face in the palm of his hand, staring at her like no matter what happened, she was all he’d ever needed, and more than what he’d ever wanted. And he was about to kill her but before he'd hurt her he'd saved her, time and time again.

She loves him, she wants him to drop his silly mask and reach across the gap and hold her, to look at her like he used to, acknowledge how blind he'd been and that all she'd ever really wanted was to live whatever she was given with him.

They're dragging her outside, now. The castle holds still, enraptured by the appearance of their radiant queen, but she can't help but think this one pales in comparison to the real one, even radiant as her wardrobe is.

She's learned better now. She thinks she gets what their other selves do. Try as you might, you can't reset the clock. Pause it? Sure. Rewind it? Why not?

A true reset, one that washes away the sins of the dual present and future, is beyond anyone's capabilities, even if Z insists so.

But there's freedom in that revelation. You can't go back, but the ability to move on, make different decisions than you would have before, is something anyone can choose, even in spite of how hard the world chains those that decide on that path.

Her breath hitches for a second, her feet grow shaky. They shove her onwards.

She wonders what it means to be trapped. To be stuck in a cycle, to be imprisoned.

Mio's body had been her prison for the longest time. It was a cell she couldn't break free from, and her executioner nonetheless. There wasn't a force to rally against, nothing to be done once the clock struck its final bell.

She was trapped. But there was no warden, and it certainly wasn't a cell she was stuck in, at least not yet.

Does there need to be a jailer, then? Even if metaphorical, does a prison need guards and cells and chains?

Could someone…?

She already knows the answer. It's right there, written across his face.

They were foolish to think they’d ever broken free from the cycle, that they'd risen above it. They’re cowards through and through, the both of them.

They force her to her knees, and she's blinded by perhaps the last time she'll ever see the sun like this. And just like a coward would, she goes quietly.

She's watched their other selves the same as Noah has. She's paid attention to them, sometimes even wanting to intervene.

Mio is dying, she had less than 3 months, and M knows better than anyone how trapped she feels, how she wanted nothing more than to tear apart everything in her path to seek out the City, in hope of a better ending.

Noah was desperate, hoping that if he can pull everyone together, rally enough spirit, they can fight one last time, point their blades in search of not only what they want but also what they need.

And they didn’t have the time for it, they really don't, but they stopped.

They stopped when asked, listening to their friends. When someone asked for help, they were first to offer their aid, even with as much as they've got to lose.

They wasted hours and whole days flitting about a colony, breaking every pillar of Z's empire, and they didn't care one bit in the way that really mattered that they might not make it to the City if things kept up like this.

She saw it in them the way she knew it in herself, how badly they wanted to flee, to take everything they had and make a break right to their goal, consequences be damned.

The flutes ring out. The crowd’s rancor at the traitor amongst their midst quiets; they’re witnessing something not often seen.

They never did it, though. They tempered themselves, taking solace in their actions, heartened by their efforts and she knows that if they both keeled over right now, they'd be sad, but they'd go on knowing they did what they should've, had used their time wisely.

Wisely. An interesting contradiction.

Aionios can't keep going like this. Something has to break. The fulcrum of that rests on their shoulders and if they fail, the crumbling cycle might just disintegrate entirely.

She and N would've chosen differently in their place, she knows, and maybe that's what made all the difference.

She feels it, the way the construct of a body never meant for more than 10 years is failing. The flutes reach more than just her ears, a melody menacing yet almost homely sounding, and she lets it take her peacefully.

The issue wasn’t ever their circumstances, was it? 

Because here’s the thing: Noah became N because of his loss. He couldn’t keep going, and had felt trapped in a cycle entirely separate of both hers and Z’s. Everything she is, and everything she’s ever been is the result of that loss.

But their other selves are them too. Different in circumstances, maybe in choices, but despite everything, It's still them. Same doubts and fears, triumphs and losses.

They might doubt themselves, unsure of their past the way N and M are and unable to fill in the blanks of everything they're missing, and they might stumble, even consider doing what they once did, but the way they act says more than enough. The Noah trapped in that cell wouldn't repeat his mistakes, wouldn't choose wrong.

She hazards a look back at him. He's prostrate on the ground, scrambling to grasp at his instrument.

But her Noah had . Ripped the world to shreds to prevent the death of a single person, to hell with the consequences. 

And that was wrong . He’d decided wrong, and she’d stupidly, so so stupidly, followed him right into it.

She could have and should have done more. She's blamed it on their origins, wrote it off as a tragic element of fate that she’d needed to atone for. But it's time to face the truth, and acknowledge that she's just not as good a person as they are.

She smiles back at him.

Good people don’t need to atone for things. They don’t need to justify their actions, because they know deep down that what they’re doing is good, and can trust themselves to do what’s right instead of what they want .

Her Noah hadn’t done that. Neither had she. And maybe that's all that matters.

It doesn’t change what needs to be done. Aionios is ready– it’s yearning for a change. It’s seeping out of the earth into the people back into the air, coalescing, a mist so thick anyone can feel it and know that something is coming, that something must shift, and she’s going to stake her life on it, because for once, she knows it's the right choice.

She thinks of how it was terrible and horrible and she wanted to let go and move on countless countless times and she thinks of the fact that nothing can ever erase the hopelessness he'd made her feel and the sins she'd committed to satisfy him, and she thinks of how worthless she'd been knowing that she couldn't ever help him the way he needed.  She thinks of a life extended, yet totally wasted.

She thinks of other selves and other lives where they'd been kinder to each other, kinder to the world, she thinks of a boy that would follow her to the ends of the earth if he could only keep up with how fast she had to leave, one that made her believe in a better future, she thinks of nights spent holding each other staring up at the stars when they were mysterious and she didn't know them all by name, and she thinks of joy and freedom and love greater than all else. She thinks of a life extended, used in the best ways possible.

She can barely see past the blinding of the light, can barely feel her body, but this Noah's kinder than she is and better than his other self. He deserves better than what he's been given, and the least she can offer is the truth.

Maybe not the truth he wants, but a truth nonetheless; the only one that's important right now, the one he needs to know:

She really did have fun.