"I tried so hard,
And got so far,
But in the end,
It doesn't even matter.
I had to fall,
To lose it all,
But in the end,
It doesn't even matter."
Linkin Park, In The End.

***

London, January 20th, 2030.

Lyra Heartstrings exhaled, closing her eyes and trying not to feel too exhausted - it was a losing battle.

It was hard to catch a break when the city was under attack, but somehow, impossibly, she had managed to find five minutes to sit down and think. David Elliot had gone further into the city, fighting off an assault on Piccadilly or some similar place. Lyra found herself smirking at a half-remembered conversation.

***

"Piccadilly?" Lyra asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "That… is an odd name."

"Uh huh," David said in return, smirking. "I suppose all it needs is a horse pun."

Lyra frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Oh I dunno," David said, chuckling slightly. "Maybe if you called it 'Piccafilly' and it might sound less ridiculous."

"Are you mocking the great town of Piccafilly?" Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow, her expression going stony.

David paused, looking worried for a moment. "Wait, there's really a town called Piccafilly?"

Lyra held his gaze for a long moment, and then burst out laughing.

"No, you clod," she said, chuckling. "Even I know that would be too much."

***

Lyra smiled at the fond memory - it had been a long time ago. Before the weight of ultimate responsibility had settled on Elliot's shoulders, before the blood soaked islands had reeked of the final end coming. Before this 'Albion' nonsense…

Lyra cursed that name. 'The Avatar of Albion'. It was stupid - they lauded him as their last hope, their saviour, and he, so desperate to save his people, accepted it. He had become their symbol, allowed them to call him by the symbol's name instead of his own. She had seen him give away the last of himself to the symbol and forget that he was a man, a man with his own life, his own dreams, his own hopes - hopes and dreams she knew, even if most of the rest of these plot wipes didn't.

No one and nopony else, except maybe True Grit at a pinch, had known him as long or as well as she had. She had been there when Sam, his best friend, had died in Whitby. She had been there to see him through losing his friend, to see him through being promoted to Lieutenant, then to Major, then his assignment as a Force Commander that had seen him given authority.

She had seen what being the 'Avatar' had done to him…

***

She approached him, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He was sat alone, away from the party technically being held in his honour. He had taken his old leather coat off, and she could see a hint of the pale pink mane of Fluttershy poking out.

"David?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her, and for the briefest of moments she caught the empty, almost despairing look on his face - and then he covered it up with a soft smile.

"Hey Lyra," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine. Little tired. Long month."

Lyra frowned. "You might fool John and even True Grit with that routine - heck, you might even fool yourself - but I know you better. Don't you dare shut me out."

His smile faded, and he leant forward, almost bending over double.

"I'm fine," he repeated softly. "I have to be."

She moved to sit next to him, making sure to sit like a human. She was fortunate she'd had so much practice. She put a comforting forehoof on his shoulder.

"David," she said, "I'm here… if you need to talk. If you need…"

She trailed off, not finishing the thought. 'If you need me.'

"I'm fine," he said for the third time, looking up at her with a smile. He patted her hoof, and she felt a twinge of… something. "But thanks."

She smiled, a sudden hollow feeling in her chest. "Don't mention it."

***

She closed her eyes, returned to the present. He was killing himself - physically and mentally - and all she could do, all she could ever do, was watch it happen.

'I'm sorry,' she thought softly. 'I'm so sorry.'

She pulled something from her saddlebag - it was an old leather bound journal that David had given her. She smiled softly at it, before opening it up, stopping, as always, on the first page, where a scruffy, scribble handwriting had left a simple message.

From David Elliot to Lyra Heartstrings.

She blinked, suddenly feeling choked up for some reason, and turned the page, trying to suppress her feelings. She turned to the last page she had written, a quick note about London.

January 17th.

If Blueblood is right, London will be attacked in two days. We're moving out now. Hell Blazer is full of practised but worn bravado. Grit is professional, detached, offers a small smile. And David…

He stands there, looking off in the distance. Bags under his eyes, tired, those small human eyes full of more emotion than the biggest pony eyes I ever saw - worry, fear, self-doubt, his usual combination. He doubts himself, his ability to lead, his ability to fight. He is… beautiful so stupid - men, women, stallions, mares, we follow him because we trust him, we believe in him, we love

She had stopped writing, and reading it back, she could no longer deny what she had been trying to for months.

She turned back a few pages. More of the same sort of comments appeared.

December 14th.

Dark mane hair and stubble, he hasn't slept again. He looks tired. Fighting across country the past two weeks has taken its toll. More reports from Plymouth put him in a bad mood. Couple of Long Watchmen bowing to him like some sort of God didn't help. He doesn't want to be a God. He doesn't need to If only he'd realise that the man is good enough for me and that he doesn't need to be a hero.

She closed her eyes.

"Damn you," she said to nopony in particular. Maybe to the half-joking Pony God people kept swearing to. Maybe to no one.

She remembered another conversation, one she'd had a long time ago with Vinyl, a year after they'd arrived.

***

"… and she and he actually… y'know, that," Vinyl finished, sounding a little disturbed. "Hard to believe."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "You mean Amethyst is with a human? Like… that?"

"Yup," Vinyl said, shrugging. "Hard to believe."

"Well," Lyra said, shrugging. "To each their own… never expected it from Amethyst of all ponies."

"Me neither," Vinyl commented. "I know Cheerilee leaving her in charge of the farmyards was a big task, but still, she’s gotta be pretty stressed to be…"

"What does that have to do with it?" Lyra asked, frowning.

"Well… y'know, a human and a pony?" Vinyl said, raising an eyebrow. "There's something pretty… well, weird about it, isn't there? They're hairless apes. So she’s probably working out some stress or something, I dunno."

"Interspecies relationships have happened before," Lyra said, frowning. "I mean, you hear about ponies and Griffons all the time… and there was that pony with a donkey husband… and Spike used to pine after Rarity…"

Vinyl sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but Spike was raised among ponies - and out of millions of ponies and Griffons, there's gotta be… what, six couples tops? It's still weird."

Lyra scowled. "Vinyl, I'm surprised at you: we came here to help humans."

"Yeah, help," Vinyl said, "not fuck."

Lyra winced. "You're charming. Was that really necessary?"

"Call it like I know it, sister," Vinyl shrugged. "And human swear words work for me."

Lyra chuckled. "I'm sure. All I'm saying is, we should be more open minded."

"I am open minded," Vinyl said. "I ain't saying anything about her right to fuck…"

Lyra winced again.

"… alright, copulate with anyone she likes."

"That hardly sounds better," Lyra muttered.

Vinyl ignored her. "But… look, ok, there's a bit of a squick factor, ok?"

"A squick factor?" Lyra repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Vinyl said, shrugging. "It's a bit icky, thinking about it."

Lyra smirked. "You know ancient Adamantia used to slice open gay couples from throat to tail as a punishment for their sins?"

Vinyl's eyes widened. "Say what?"

"That was their reaction to gay and lesbian couples," Lyra continued. "I guess they thought it was… 'icky'."

"Hey," Vinyl said, holding up both hooves. "I'm not saying that we should stop them, but…"

"But, you're still saying it's 'squicky'," Lyra said. "Only a few short steps to the throat-to-tail treatment…"

Vinyl chuckled. "Ok, ok, I'll get my head out of my plot. Not my business anyway." She smirked. "Wonder why you're being so touchy about it? Is there a special human in your life?"

Lyra laughed. "Oh, no. Not likely to happen. I think most humans have the same reaction you do."

"Ha," Vinyl said. "You sure? I bet Sam's pretty hot for a human. Or maybe Elliot…?"

Lyra blushed. "Shut up."

"Is that a yes?"

"Anyway," Lyra said, hastily changing the subject, "I heard you're moving to London…"

***

Vinyl might have been showing a bit of her prejudice - understandable, since everyone and everypony had some prejudices, buried or not - but it wasn't as though she was unique in her beliefs. Most humans - and indeed, most ponies - had the same attitude she had, and apart from Amethyst she couldn't think of many ponies she knew being in human/pony relationships at all. Even Lyra had been ambivalent about it, for the most part… though she'd never really been into sex as a whole. She'd been described as asexual more than once, which she supposed was technically accurate. Technically - she had never been interested much in ponies, that much was certain.

Now though…

'A human,' she thought to herself. 'Why did I have to fall for a human?'

Was that it then? Was she admitting it?

She turned to the first blank page in her journal, and began writing.

January 20th, 2030.

I'm in love with a human.

She crossed that out and began writing again.

I'm in love with David.

She underlined the name three times for emphasis, her eyes furrowing. She read the words back.

I'm in love with David.

Taking a breath, she began writing again.

I'm in love with him. There. I said it. I bucking said it.

Can't say it to him though. Not while

She stopped. She scratched out the last two words.

I can't tell him. he's not into ponies. He's never commented on stories like Amethyst and her husband but I can tell he doesn't think of ponies that way. In fact, I don't think i've ever seen him think of anyone that way. Maybe he isn't interested

She scratched the last three words out, frowning. It couldn't be that.

Maybe he isn't interested it's the war. There's so much pressure on him. So much pressure on him to be the stupid bucking Avatar of Albion…

She scratched the last sentence out, frowning. Saying this… saying this even in her own private journal had to be right.

He's the hero this country, these humans, have been needing, and he doesn't know how to be, but he tries. He tries. And they we believe in him. All of us do. If only he believed in himself, stupid bucking

She closed her eyes, a tear leaking out. She hadn't realised just how much this was affecting her, how much seeing the man she had stood by - this man that she loved - tear himself apart was hurting her.

I have to tell him.

She scratched that out.

I can't tell him.

She frowned at the words, and reread them. Then, scowling, she tore out the entire page, scrunched it up, and incinerated it.

Could she tell him?

No.

Why not?

He's dying. There's too much pressure on him as it is. It couldn't ever work.

And what if it did? And so what if he was dying? They were all going to die, every last one of them - if not now, then tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that…

and what if he does love you? What if he can't bear seeing you hurt, or killed?

That gave her sudden pause.

He's seen too many people die. Hundreds of people - men, women, children, friends... if you tell him, and it somehow manages to work, then when you die, you'll be the anchor that sinks him.

"But what if I don't?" she asked quietly out loud, a tear slipping out.

You know better than to think you'll survive this war. Bon Bon didn't. Ditzy didn't. The Doctor's changed forever. Sam didn't. Vinyl's… pony God knows what happened to change her, but she's different too. This war will change everything, forever. You're no different than any of those ponies, any of those people - the only thing that makes you different is you saying it, and that's piss in the wind. You know the first adage of war, the adage they taught all the first ponies in the Resistance.

Lyra closed her eyes, a tear leaking out.

First you say 'it can't happen to me - I'm too good, too trained, too cute, too lucky, too blessed'. Then, after a while, after you see a few people die, you think 'it could happen to me, so I should be careful, watchful, alert, vigilant.' finally you realise - 'it will happen to me, and only me not being there will prevent it.' You're here - and so you'll die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day.

Lyra sat back, a tear dripping from her eye. She didn't want to admit it, but that little voice in her head was right. She couldn't tell him, because he had lost too much, and if he lost her, knowing how she felt…

It would destroy him.

"Oi!" a new voice said, and she turned, seeing David Elliot looking at her, a frown on his face. "You ok, Lyra?"

She smiled, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. "Yeah, just… thinking too much."

"Ah, thinking," Elliot said, grinning. "You know, they should really ban that. S'bad for people's health."

"Oh, is that why you never think?" she asked mockingly, grinning at him.

He stuck a finger up at her. "Me and Grit are going on a recce. You wanna come with? You might be able to beat his score."

"Yeah," Lyra said, smiling slightly. "Just let me finish something."

"We'll be waiting by the corner shop when you're done," Elliot said, waving and heading off. Lyra's smile faded, and she turned to her diary, staring at the new page. She sighed, and wrote the next entry.

January 20th, 2030.

I'm in love with David Elliot. I will never tell him. It's better that way. It has to be.

She closed the book, a bitter tear dripping from her eye, and a scowl developing on her face. She was tempted to throw the journal away… but it had been a gift. She put it in her saddlebag, and got up to meet Elliot, hoping that the noise and chaos of battle would be enough to make her feel something other than the sudden emptiness of her personal resolution.

She doubted it. But hope wasn't a bad thing, sometimes. In the end, it didn’t even matter.

Author's Notes:

So: this chapter comes with a bit of character development for a character who really needed it. It's a big enough bit of development that I've written a blog post on it, because not only is it being referenced here, it's gonna be in other stuff - Convergence, maybe When We Needed Him Most, maybe some other stuff. In the meantime, I hope this isn't the shark-jumping moment for some people.