“What I did I did to make Cardassia strong again. And mark my words, Captain, I succeeded. You may have escaped defeat this day but tomorrow...”
“We will see about tomorrow.”
“Yes, we will.”
– Gul Dukat and Benjamin Sisko, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, ‘By Inferno’s Light’

“So... I lied. I cheated. I bribed men to cover the crimes of other men. I am an accessory to murder. But the most damning thing of all... I think I can live with it. And if I had to do it all over again, I would. Garak was right about one thing, a guilty conscience is a small price to pay for the safety of the Alpha Quadrant. So I will learn to live with it. Because I can live with it. I can live with it... Computer, erase that entire personal log.”
– Benjamin Sisko, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: ‘In The Pale Moonlight’

Marcus walked to his prefered bar, his mind as far as possible from whatever was stressing him and was clearly focused on getting drunk as possible.

‘Marcus, you would need to consume the entire stock the bar has, and while Discord’s magic is powerful, I don’t think he would appreciate if you abused it like this,’ the ever present Tia chided him from within his mind.

“I just want to forget this week ever happened,” Marcus grumbled as he stepped up to the door.

‘The past will remain there Marcus. But you still have time to change things for the better now,’ Tia stated calmly. Marcus paused at the door, closing his eyes as he tried to fight off the guilt.

“The last time I tried to do things for the better, a lot of people ended up dead for nothing,” Marcus answered quietly, causing the echo of Celestia to sigh sadly before retreating back into his mind.

Marcus stepped through, taking in the scene before him with rapt attention.

“Colonel,” the Doctor greeted from his place at the bar, raising a glass in greetings, the soldier next him barely moving from his drunken sleep. “Small world.”

“Bowman,” he said grimly. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be working on that… thing.”

“I am working.” The Doctor tossed back another, though he seem tense to Marcus’s eyes.

“Sure,” Marcus said, glancing at the keytar and the half-empty drink, a glance passing over the unconscious soldiers. “Looks like it.”

“Chalcedony’s running the simulations and working through the memories as we speak,” the Doctor said with a wave of his hand. “She does that all pretty much on autopilot, no need for me to hang around over her metaphorical shoulder. And I… felt like I needed a drink with some friends of mine, if that’s quite alright with you.”

Marcus rubbed his head, waving his hand at him as he made his way to the bar. “Whatever. Just keep the drinks coming.”

“Oh?”

“I need this,” Marcus reiterated, giving a pain smile to the bartender before him. “Balkan 176, as many as you can bring out.”

“Of course, Colonel,” the barkeep said, pouring a shotglass full of vodka. “On the house. Going for oblivion, are we?”

“Trying to.” Marcus couldn’t help but snort a bit, downing the shot in one swing before holding out for another fill. “Huh. Not bad. Got a good kick. Might as well leave the bottle.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

“So,” Marcus asked the Doctor. “Come here often?”

“This is rather a pleasant bar,” the Doctor said with a wry expression. He took another sip of his own drink, prior to shrugging and downing it. “Another, please.”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, but he poured the drink and placed it in front of the Doctor, who nodded his appreciation. For a long while, the two men drank, enjoying the slow music playing from the jukebox in the corner of the bar.

‘Marcus, you need to speak about this.’

Marcus sighed. ‘Tia, who am I going to talk to, Bowman? The man hates me right now, and I can’t blame him.’

‘Marcus, this entire ordeal is eating you alive. I am worried about what is happening to you. You are making foolish decisions, and you know it was foolish.’

‘Tia, please, I just want to drink, that’s all I am asking for.’

‘Fine, be that way then. Keep in mind, this man is the same as Doctor Whooves. Different superficially, perhaps, but they are fundamentally the same person. He would listen, if you gave him the chance.’

Marcus muttered under his breath, catching the Doctor’s attention with his scowl on his face directed at nobody in particular.

“Problem?”

“No,” Marcus mumbled out, downing another shot to cut the conversation.

For another hour, the two men drank in silence, both brooding on their own predicaments with nothing to say between the other. The amount of alcohol in their system would normally have caused both men to loosen up, but one was a Time Lord, and the other was an ascended human being. Suffice it to say, neither of them were really feeling the pleasant buzz of their drinks.

The Doctor took a final swing of his vodka and diet coke. “Right, then, Colonel. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Marcus looked like he was going to say something, before he thought better of it. The Doctor put his empty glass down, and left with a flourish of his coat, taking his keytar with him.

Marcus looked down at his own drink with a questioning look.

“You know, it isn’t going to refill on its own,” a voice said from above him. He looked up, to see the balding barkeeper smiling at him. Marcus gave him a questioning look.

“I get the feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye,” he said. Marcus never seen him before, and he was sure there were no civilian barkeepers within the city just yet.

“You’re very perceptive,” the barkeeper replied with a friendly smile. “But right now, I’m just pouring drinks.”

Marcus frowned. “Yeah, sure. What else?”

The barkeeper said nothing, merely smiling up at the doorway as it opened with a loud creak.

Doctor Whooves winced, a forehoof going to his head, just when he’d began work on a little bit of console maintenance.

“Dad?” Sparkler said from next him. The two of them were the only ones on the ship this evening, Derpy and Dinky both spending the night home resting. Doctor’s orders, one might say. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving her off. “Just… just a headache.”

“Headache?” his adopted daughter repeated. “What do you mean, a headache?”

“A headache,” Whooves said, with a wry grin. “You know, an ache in the noggin. Pain in the brain case. Migraine. That sort of thing.”

Sparkler scowled. “Dad, this is serious. You and I both know you don’t get headaches for no reason. Usually, it’s after you bumped someone else in the head, or someone else’s been messing with it. Either way, it tends to follow a major revelation.”

Whooves waved her off again. “It’s nothing. Just feels like…” He trailed off, his expression going slack.

“Like what?”

“Like… a fallout,” Whooves said slowly. “Four-dimensional fallout. Heavy on the air.”

“Fou-dimensional fallout?” Sparkler repeated. “But… that usually follows or precedes…”

“Major disruptions in time and space, yes, I know,” Whooves said quietly. He smiled brightly. “Still, shouldn't worry overmuch.”

“What sort of thing could be causing it?” Sparkler asked, not willing to let the matter go.

Whooves had no answer.

Marcus turned in his seat, and found himself surprised to see the Doctor walking in. He was wearing a different shirt and a different pair of corduroy trousers, and his expression was morose.

“Colonel,” he greeted. He gave the barkeeper a look. “Gar.”

“Doctor,” the barkeeper said with a genial smile. “What a pleasant surprise to see you back here.”

“I could say the same,” the Doctor said evenly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to the Colonel.”

The barkeeper inclined his head, before pulling up a bottle of Renee’s Balkan and a bottle of Coca-Cola, as well as a bottle of vodka.

“Don’t overdo it,” he told the Doctor, meaningfully.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the Doctor said with a grim smile. “I know what I’m doing.”

The barkeeper left through the back door, and the Doctor sat down to pour himself a new drink. He took a deep breath, exhaling.

“How I needed that.”

For a moment, the Doctor simply sat in silence, drinking his drink.

“You just left. Why are... ” Marcus asked before rolling his eyes, taking the bottle and downing half of it in one go. “Right. Not questioning it.”

The Doctor didn't say anything to that.

Marcus sighed. “You wanted to talk?”

“Gimme a mo,” the Doctor replied, drinking his drink. “Long day.”

Marcus didn't know what to say to that. Clearly, the Doctor hadn't come straight back. Had he time travelled? Why? What had he done?

“It’s funny,” the Doctor said after a moment. “You're one of the most powerful humans alive, politically and literally. And yet, here you are, trying to drown yourself in liquor in a manner that most people would find… worrisome.”

“Why do you care?” Marcus asked. “You hate me.”

“I don't tend to hate many people,” the Doctor replied with a slow smile. “You and I certainly have… well, our differences of opinion…”

“I threatened you, threatened your friends, and I’m forcing you to do something you hate,” Marcus said flatly.

The Doctor’s smile faltered and died. “Yes. Well, I’ll admit. You're not exactly on my Christmas list for that one. Still.”

“I am not cut out for this, Bowman,” Marcus said grimly. He took a swig of his drink. “I’m not black ops or anything. Those guys tolerate me at best. I’m not one of them. I don’t deal with stuff like this. I lead by the front and by example! This entire ordeal, this fucking stain, I’ve been told what would happen to our alliance. I expect the worse and no one tells me otherwise. I fucking hate - I’m driving this entire unit down the shithole and there is nothing I can say and do to turn us around. Not without taking losses in that turn…” He stopped, drained. “I can’t handle this anymore. This is too much.”

The rather stunned look on the Doctor’s face was telling.

“You know, this is exactly like what happened to Defiance. Too many unknowns, too much guesswork, not enough time to figure out the best course of action,” Marcus lamented, rubbing his forehead. “There were a few people who wanted me to wipe out that shithole with artillery, others wanted to make an example out of them.”

The Doctor didn't say anything, though his expression hardened.

“You know, I’m surprised,” Marcus said after a moment.

“Oh?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah,” Marcus said. “Was kind of expecting you to start ranting at me about how bad all of this is again.”

“I still could, if you want,” the Doctor said with a mirthless smile, taking another sip of his drink. “Wouldn’t really change anything, though.” His smile faded. “You’re an odd one, Colonel Renee.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor said quietly. “You’re letting what’s happening to Trixie happen, even though it makes you miserable. You talk about how Lyra made the PHL to be good, then, rather than try your damndest to stick with it, you accept moral compromises as necessary, only to feel miserable about that too.”

Marcus sighed, not replying. He’d done enough talking with the Doctor to know that he’d keep talking whether he was interrupted or not.

“Then there’s Defiance,” the Doctor continued. “Innocent women and children gunned down because your diplomacy failed, and that makes you miserable, but you’ve never gone on record about it being a mistake on anyone’s part, when you could have.”

Marcus sighed. “I'm not Lyra.”

“There's something I've been thinking for a long time,” the Doctor said with a snort. “You spend so much time telling people you're not Lyra – that you can't be like her – that I dare say you've stopped trying to be, if you ever started.”

Marcus said nothing. He didn't really feel like there was much he could say – Defiance was not his favourite topic.

“This is all the past, anyway,” the Doctor said quietly, taking another sip of his drink. “Unlike me, you can’t exactly go visiting, and I doubt you would want to.”

“You do,” Marcus said dully.

The Doctor’s expression was odd: cold and tired. “Yes, and usually, I wish I hadn’t.”

There was a long pause.

“I wish I hadn’t needed to do what I did at Defiance,” Marcus said quietly. “Or now.”

The Doctor smiled softly. “Wishing for something to be better, or wishing that you could do better, is a good sign.”

“Is it?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “The first thing is desire. Motivation. Then you take action. Because of your wish, maybe you’ll do something differently next time. Who knows?”

“You do,” Marcus said. “You know what happens after we do this. Don’t you?”

The Doctor said nothing.

“You do,” Marcus reiterated. “You talk about history. You’ve seen the future, the future of this world if we go through with our plan.”

The Doctor didn’t reply for a moment, and his face was completely neutral.

“What makes you say that?” he asked after a moment.

“Don't be an ass. I’d rather just know this decision’s results now than have it thrown back in my face later,” Marcus said tiredly. “Please.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” the Doctor whispered, rubbing his forehead.

“What?” Marcus asked, startled. “What is it?”

“You really are quite something, you know that, Colonel?” the Doctor said, unsmiling. “Even now, after everything, you still want easy answers to your problems, still want there to be a proverbial magic button.” He harrumphed, unconsciously patting his neckline. “Would it make anything better if I told you what’s waiting down the path you’re headed? Believe me, knowing would only be attacking the symptoms.”

“Easy for you to say,” Marcus said, clenching his glass. “You already know.”

“Not everything,” the Doctor said gloomily. “I’m like everyone else in creation in one, very critical, respect. I don’t know my own future. I have to go through my life as it comes. One day, something out there’s going to get me, and I’ve no idea what, when, or how. Scary, but that's how life… is meant to be.” He took a breath. “And maybe I shouldn’t keep trying to change it. It's gone poorly when I tried.”

“Why are you here, Bowman?” Marcus demanded. “Seriously, what are you doing here? It’s thanks to you that we can put Holmes’ plan in motion, a plan we otherwise mightn’t have at our disposal without you, yet at the same time, I feel like you’re trying to block us every step of the way.”

“You’re human,” the Doctor said quietly. “Despite the fact that you’ve done a fair few things I wouldn’t agree with, I’d still say you want to do the right thing.”

Marcus shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

“You do… you always have,” the Doctor said quietly. “Like I said, you spend so much time telling people you’re not Lyra, you’ve never tried to be. So try to be. You couldn’t make the right choice for Defiance. You can now. That's what I’m trying to tell you. You can now.”

Marcus said nothing, merely sipping his drink, the taste numb on his tongue.

“Tell you what,” the Doctor said, standing to go. “I’ll give you a piece of advice. Thessia in the springtime is beautiful. It’ll take you a good while to be able to go, but when you do, you and Cheerilee will love it.”

He took a final swing of his vodka and diet coke, before he left for the second time that evening. Marcus simply blinked in confusion.

“Thessia?”

A short way away from the bar, the Doctor stopped, looking around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. Then, at a sprint, he turned into a back alley, and practically fell, finding himself leaning heavily against the alley wall, groaning.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” someone asked from behind him.

The Doctor turned to see Gar, the barkeeper, standing there, his hands behind his back in a neutral stance. He was still smiling.

“Fallout,” the Doctor said tiredly. “It’s done, then?”

“Yes,” the barkeeper said. “Whatever happens now, it is not what was meant to be.”

The Doctor snorted. “Right. Gotcha. And is now the time for...”

The barkeeper held up a hand. “No. No, that waits. For now, you shall have to explain to yourself precisely what has happened, what you’ve done. If you can.”

The Doctor sighed. “Thank you for this.”

“Don’t thank us, Doctor,” the barkeeper said quietly. “I suspect you will find the price paid to save one little mare far beyond the price you would’ve accepted paying.”

He turned and walked off, leaving the Doctor alone. The Time Lord sighed, closing his eyes against the waves of pain broiling inside his head, only an echo of something far worse to come.

‘This was worth it.’ he thought. ‘This was all worth it.’

“You spend so much time telling people you're not Lyra… that I dare say you've stopped trying to be, if you ever started.”

Bowman… was right, Cher. He was right. I’d accepted what I was. I’m a soldier. I do what I’m ordered unless that order is against the ethical code. I’m not Lyra.

But could I be like her?

His words about having faith in our allies returned to me. I ran them through my head again. And again. I ran his words about Lyra.

What would Lyra have done?

The day of the procedure arrived with a sort of dull finality. Marcus found himself on a bench, wrestling with his thoughts. The sun was shining, and he could even hear birds chirping. Almost too nice. He could see this world’s Lyra, and Twilight, too. The latter must have come back from visiting her family. Marcus found himself wondering how that had gone.

“Marcus!” Lyra called over, waving a hoof. She and Twilight trotted over to him. “How are you? Are things going okay?”

Marcus smiled. ‘If only you knew.’

“Things are fine,” he lied. “We’ve been a little preoccupied, going over some stuff, but I’m fairly sure it’ll work out.”

“Good,” Lyra said earnestly. “It’s good that things are working out.”

‘If you knew what I’d done… what I’m going to do…’

“So,” he asked aloud. “How are things with you two?”

“Going well,” Lyra said with a smile. “Difficult to go through training without Major Bauer. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Marcus kept smiling, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. “He’s still needed to deal with top brass business. Boring shit, you know the sort.” (‘You fucking liar, Renee.’) “I’ll make sure he’s back to training you soon.”

“Good,” Twilight said quietly. “I’ve got a few meetings with Mister Acevedo to go to soon, but I want to feel like we’re progressing.”

Marcus felt his face fall. “You know, part of me wonders whether you should be so eager to let go of being a civilian, of your innocence. There’s a lot of stuff that changes in this life.”

‘Some stuff you’ll hopefully never have to experience.’

“I wouldn’t call it eagerness,” Twilight replied, sighing. “More… resolution. If it needs doing, it needs to be done right, and it needs to be done.”

Marcus nodded slowly.

“Besides,” Lyra added. “It’s like I said the other day. You didn’t take our innocence, not really. The Tyrant did. She’s the one who destroyed your world.”

“And Tirek destroyed her... and is still destroying her,” Twilight added, sounding empty. “Makes me wish we could do something.”

Marcus smiled wryly. “You know what? Don’t you let go of that. Don’t you let go of wishing you could do something, of wanting to be better. The way I hear it, it’s a good thing to hope for, even if you can’t always live up to it. Means that one day, you might be able to actually do something about it.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Lyra said. “It’d be a nice world if you could save everyone.”

“Yeah, it would,” Marcus replied. ‘I can’t save everyone, but I can save Trixie.’

“Anyway, we’d better go,” Lyra added, trotting off. “See you later, Marcus!”

“See you later,” Twilight added, moving to follow her friend.

A sudden thought occurred to Marcus. “Twilight, wait.”

She paused. “Yes?”

“I need your help,” Marcus said grimly, his expression becoming more serious. “I need you to teach me a certain branch of magic.”

Princesses Luna and Celestia were seated in their council chamber, awaiting Marcus, when he walked in, an expression somewhere between determination and uncertainty on his face. He was holding something in one hand.

“Colonel,” Luna greeted. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

There was a pause as this sank in. Luna glanced at Celestia, who was sizing up Marcus with a thoughtful expression.

“Marcus?” she asked quietly. “Please tell us, what’s the matter.”

“Everything,” he said honestly. “I feel like shit. Like I swam through a septic tank. That's how I’m feeling at this moment of time.”

There was a pause as the two alicorns let these words sink in.

“I spent all night going over everything in my head,” Marcus said after a moment. “All night. I’d convinced myself we were doing the right thing.”

“But?” Celestia asked quietly.

“But… there’s an old adage Stephan once told me,” Marcus said, chuckling hollowly. “You ask a plumber to fix the world, all he’ll see is leaky pipes. We’ve all got our preconceptions about the world’s problems, how to fix them. Me included.” He took a breath. “We’re not going to do this to Trixie.”

Luna and Celestia exchanged glances again. Though neither of them spoke immediately, both seemed to lose a leaden tension around their shoulders, and Celestia even smiled.

“I see,” she said calmly. “May I ask how you reached this decision?”

“Several things,” Marcus admitted. “Bowman included. I talked to him, and to Stephan. But most of all… most of all, I thought about something important. What would Lyra have done? My Lyra?”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Ambassador Heartstrings was… exceptional, there is no doubt. I believe she would have sought another way.”

“She was definitely exceptional,” Marcus said softly. He looked down at what he held in his hand, before placing it on the table.

It was a pin. The icon of the PHL, a white lyre on a blue field.

“The PHL is hers, not mine,” Marcus said quietly. “She made it. She gave it its heart. She built it from the ground up. I’m only in charge because she isn’t here to lead us, but I don’t just make decisions for me, as a soldier. I’m a custodian of Lyra Heartstrings’ legacy. I can’t… I won’t be the man who tarnishes it like this.” He looked up at both of the alicorns. “We… we have to be honest. Tell the truth about what happened to Operative Lulamoon… to Trixie. All of it. If there’s questions to be asked, we’ll ask them. If there’s consequences, we’ll deal with them. But Lyra founded the PHL on a principle of being better.” He took a deep breath. “So let’s be better.”

Celestia and Luna both nodded slowly, near-identical smiles on their faces.

“For what it’s worth, Colonel,” Luna said, “I agree with you. This… Discord-work has not sat well with me.”

“Nor me. For all that I gave you free rein,” Celestia added. She smiled. “And Marcus… I’m sure she’d have been proud of you.”

Marcus shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t. I considered the other plan. I nearly went through with it. I’ve a long way to go.”

“Perhaps you do, Marcus Renee,” Luna said with a wry grin. “But remember, every journey begins with a single step. And I dare say, yours has begun with a leap.”

... And I felt light as a feather.

It was a risk, Cher. Of course it was a risk. Jesus, I said as much, didn’t I? Things could go to hell. Everything could go to shit.

But Celestia had always said that ponies trusted her, right? What was our biggest disadvantage when dealing with the Solar Empire finally got to be turned to our advantage. Besides…

… I had faith.

Telling the Umbrella Man was something Marcus had been dreading. To his surprise, however, there was no collection of patronizing comments, no condescending remarks. The man simply folded his arms and sighed, tapping his umbrella against the concrete floor of the hangar.

“I shall assume by your directness, this is your final decision,” he said quietly.

“That’s right,” Marcus said, nodding. “We aren’t going through with this plan. I’m going to need you on hand to deal with running damage control, if that’s alright.”

The Umbrella Man sniffed. “‘Damage control’,” he said, gazing at a nearby airship. “Yes, Colonel, I’m very capable of running damage control. I survived David Cameron and Theresa May, Brexit, and the complete collapse of the British Government. I’m certain a few irate politicians on this world won’t prove any more troublesome.”

Marcus grinned. “Wouldn’t be so sure, Mister Holmes. Some of these politicians breathe fire.”

The Umbrella Man rolled his eyes. “And the Doctor?”

“What about him?”

“Needless to say, I sense his influence,” the Umbrella Man said, pointing towards Bowman’s TARDIS in the corner. “I’d think I should like a word with him.”

Marcus shrugged. “Do what you want.”

They met the Doctor waiting outside the TARDIS, a slightly smug expression on his face.

“You knew I’d decide against it,” Marcus told him, unable to keep accusation out of his voice.

“I didn’t know any such thing,” the Doctor said, spreading his arms. “Actually, I rather suspected you’d go for the opposite choice and push on regardless. Still, I can’t say I’m overly unhappy. You’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s like you said, Doc,” Marcus said with a smile. “I’ve spent years saying I’m not Lyra… but I’m in charge of her legacy. She wouldn’t have wanted me to do what we were doing.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” the Doctor said softly. “Something to take into your newfound longevity, Colonel. You’ll have a long time to think about things you do. A long time for regrets. Try not to make yourself any more than you’ve already got.”

Marcus nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll… try to keep that in mind, Doc.”

Before he could say anything else, however, the Umbrella Man joined in.

“Doctor,” he said, a ray of sun from an overhead window shining off his jet-black umbrella. “I imagine you must feel terribly proud of yourself.”

“A little, yeah,” the Doctor replied with a grin. “Faith in ponies and all that.”

“Indeed. However, there is an issue still outstanding,” the Umbrella Man said quietly. “You broke your word, Doctor.”

“No, I didn’t,” the Doctor snorted. “I did exactly what I said I’d do, up ‘til the point the good Colonel decided against your grand scheme.”

“I would disagree,” the Umbrella Man said grimly. “Convincing the Colonel against the plan, while it is ultimately his choice, is hardly sticking to the spirit of our agreement.”

“‘Spirit of our agreement’?” the Doctor repeated. “Do you suppose there was a ‘spirit’ of our agreement, given that you forced me to agree, and threatened my friends?”

“I do not care for your tone, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man said grimly.

“And I don’t care what threats you think you can make,” the Doctor retorted. “I am not interested in your threats or your attempts at intimidation. I did what you asked. You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Perhaps I am not making myself clear, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man said, leaning forward. “As far as I’m concerned, you have deliberately gone against our agreement, which means the terms of our agreement are forfeit. I am within my rights to do as I intimated before.”

The Doctor folded his arms. “Are you trying to be threatening, Mikey?”

“Merely stating fact, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man replied. “If you do not wish for me to have the Reavers dealt with, you will do something else for me. Otherwise, I am perfectly willing to do as threatened and have them arrested and held for trial, a trial in which they would immediately be found guilty and punished to the very fullest extent of the law.”

The Doctor glanced at Marcus, whose expression was blank. He looked back at the Umbrella Man.

“Alright,” he said tightly. “What do you want?”

“The Apex Crystal,” the Umbrella Man said at once.

The Doctor snorted. “No.”

“There is no ‘no’ option available to you, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man said with a grim smile. “Either you give me the crystal, or I will see to it that your friends in our little collection of universes are all made very, very miserable.”

The Doctor scowled. “Threatening me isn’t wise, Mycroft.”

“I am hardly a slouch myself, Doctor.”

The two squared up to each other in what might have been the intellectual man’s equivalent of a standoff. The Umbrella Man had an advantage of about two inches in height on the Doctor, but the two of them otherwise seemed evenly matched.

“Compromise,” Marcus put in, feeling uneager to see either one knocked to the hard floor. The Doctor and the Umbrella Man both looked at him, each in their own way surprised.

“Compromise, Colonel?” the Umbrella Man said.

“Yeah,” Marcus said tiredly. He held out a hand. “Doc. Give me the Apex Crystal.”

The Doctor frowned, scrutinising Marcus’ face carefully. He put his hands in his coat pockets.

“And if I don’t?” he asked idly.

Marcus shrugged. “You heard Mister Holmes.”

The Doctor sighed softly. “That I did, Colonel. Alright. Fine.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, crystal still in hand, and held out to Marcus, who took it.

“Excellent,” the Umbrella Man said with a sibilant smile.

Marcus looked at the crystal for a moment, before looking the Doctor in the eyes.

“Sorry, Doc.”

The Doctor’s expression was one of resignation. “Not to worry, Colonel. Some pipers one can’t help but pay.”

“I hear that,” Marcus said, then turned to the Umbrella Man. “You done?”

“Yes, this should cover everything,” the Umbrella Man said as Marcus held out the closed hand to him. He held out his own to receive the crystal with a small grin.

“Good to know.” Marcus answered… right before he crushed the crystal into powder in his fist.

“Colonel?!” the Umbrella Man said, eyes widening. The Doctor blinked in surprise.

“Well, shit,” Marcus said idly, slowly opening his fist and dropping the sparkling gem dust into the waiting palm. “Fingers slipped.”

The Umbrella Man stared at the shards before giving a sigh as he drop the crushed gem onto the floor. “I see. We should hope they do not slip again, Colonel. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stalked off, and the Doctor waited for a moment, before looking at Marcus.

“Your fingers slipped?” he asked. “You expect him to believe that?”

“He can believe what he likes,” Marcus shrugged. “Just the same as you can try and make him believe that was the real crystal.”

The Doctor shrugged, pulling his hands out of his pockets, to reveal an identical crystal. “Always pays to carry decoys. He’ll figure it out, mark my words.”

“I’ll bet,” Marcus chuckled. “See you around, Doc.”

The Doctor sighed as Marcus walked off. “Why does everyone insist on calling me that?”

“Are we agreed?” Celestia asked her sister. “Shall we move Miss Lulamoon from her specially furnished accommodations in your Tower this night already? It does not feel entirely right, placing her back in the dungeons after what we’ve put her through… but what other place is there for her? By the laws of this land, she’s still a lawbreaker who must purge her sentence. Attempting to steal the Alicorn Amulet is no small offense. And we’ve yet to find a community that may accept her to repay her debt.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Luna said slowly. “But my pledge to act as Prisoner’s Friend on her behalf still stands. Even though Trixie will not remember it, I am bound to a promise of such high import. I cannot abandon her to the whims of fate.”

Celestia nodded. “I have every confidence that you worked to make Trixie’s stay in that old Tower as pleasant as could be expected, given the circumstances, Luna. I just wish this hadn’t been the first occasion to re-open the doors to this castle’s oldest, most long-abandoned keep, its magic faded while you were gone.”

This did give Luna cause for a small grin. “Tia, sometimes you are a marvel, you know…”

“I do,” Celestia quipped, mischievously. “Now the PHL researchers and Miss Do have began looking into our ancient castle in the Forest, I wonder just when they’ll notice there’s a whole battlement missing, and that it’s been missing for centuries.”

Luna chuckled. “You really didn’t need put yourself through the trouble of having the Tower rebuilt here in Canterlot, you know.”

“Why ever not? It was the least to be done,” said Celestia. “In your absence, I made sure this tallest peak was preserved in your honor, if not your memory, my sister.”

Hearing her words, Princess Luna breathed in softly, thinking back. “Ah, yes... We can but hope that, in spite of the fears she experienced, Miss Lulamoon’s mind shall return somewhat refreshed from her time under thestrals’ guardianship. Tis’ not a place to heal, no, yet it is a place to retire, to lie back and drift away from the world, for a time, my Tower of Nepenthe.”

The conference was a small, sedate affair. Why was it, Marcus wondered, that press conferences were where such decisions are always made.

Princess Luna and Princess Celestia were there, both of them looking tired but resolute. Cadance was there as well, too long gone from the Crystal Empire, her face pale and drawn, as were several representatives of the PHL such as Vinyl and Allie Way, ‘their’ Cadance, Moondancer and Doctor Whooves (both of them, actually). There were representatives from various races, though Chrysalis had chosen to wait backstage. Also present was the Umbrella Man, his expression studiously neutral.

Stephan, arms behind his back, looked dead ahead at the crowd, anywhere but the podium. He was worried, that much was certain, but Marcus had promised him they’d do this right.

Bowman wasn’t there, but Marcus supposed he’d done enough already.

Luna approached the podium, listing off details with pinpoint accuracy. There were moments where she could only provide suppositions – the identity of the cloaked mare among them – but she was thorough, presenting the facts with more detail than the average military report. She did not allow for questions, saying that she would field them after she had finished, and Marcus had to admit, it was a good move. It allowed her to frame things her way, present the facts without biased questions or without assumptions that would only start a panic and even more questions.

The one thing she didn’t do was identify who had been compromised. She simply stated that an agent of the PHL had been mentally manipulated.

“My sister and I would like to reassure the ponies of Equestria that we are doing everything we can to locate the cloaked mare,” she said sternly, once she’d finished detailing events. “What happened to the PHL’s operative was a warning for us all. The enemy look like us. The enemy are cunning and capable of great cruelty. They will go to any lengths to defeat us. We must be prepared to go to any lengths...” She interrupted herself. “We must be ready to defeat them. Alright. We will now take questions.”

A blue hoof rose into the air.

“Yes?” Luna asked.

“True Quill,” replied the mare at the end of that hoof. “New Equestrian Gazette. Tell me, with this confession, will there be a trial for the PHL’s agent, or will she simply be imprisoned?”

“On the contrary,” Luna said firmly. “The agent in question is as much a victim as any of us. The damage done to her is now in the process of being reversed.”

“But if she did this–”

“She is a victim of manipulation and magical coercion, not a willing agent,” Luna said softly. She paused. “I believe the same can be said for many who serve the Solar Empire. In this instance, fortune grants us the chance to fight for her rehabilitation, for her to be able to rejoin normal society. That is a chance I shall fight for most vigorously, not just for her, but for all victims of the Empire. Now, next question?”

Another hoof, brown, shot into the air.

“Newsprint, Equestria Daily Mail,” the stallion said brusquely. “Given the fact this has happened, how can we trust the PHL to still maintain a presence on our world?”

Luna turned to Celestia, who stepped forward to the podium.

“I would like to reassure you all,” Celestia said quietly. “The PHL’s presence is important to us. They are still our best hope for defeating this enemy. An enemy who has revealed to us now that they...” She briefly caught herself on that last word, a detail Luna felt sure she was the only one to notice, knowing her sister better than anyone. “They have no qualms killing even innocents among us.”

Celestia smiled faintly. It was a mournful thing, an invitation for all to share in their sorrows.

“The PHL will not always succeed,” she said. “I fear this is one of many lessons we must learn. Victory is not going to be achieved easily. There will be, as one human leader once said, blood, sweat, tears and toil. But ultimately, we must prevail. We will prevail. Together.”

There came a burst of murmuring, and Celestia let out an almost imperceptible breath.

“Next question?”

When it was over, the Princesses stepped down from the podium. Most of the official personnel soon began filing out, as did the members of the press. Pausing for a moment, Marcus allowed himself to draw a breath. A lot of murmuring had arisen from the press… but none of it sounded angry. There was confusion, concern, but no anger.

‘Celestia and Luna’s reputation holds out after all,’ he thought quietly, a smile on his face.

“Well played, Colonel Renee,” the familiar voice of Chrysalis emerged from behind him. Marcus’ smile faded, and he turned, to discover the Changeling Queen enter the stage from behind the curtain, looking at him with a little smile of amusement.

“This isn’t a game, Chrysalis,” he said sternly. “Not even close.”

“Oh, but it is, Colonel,” Chrysalis retorted. “A grand old game of chess, on a dozen boards. A game where they took one of your pieces, but you seem to have taken it back, even managed to withstand their assault with your reputation intact… despite telling the truth” She chuckled. “So, as I said, well played.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “Well, I guess being honest and trusting ponies counts for something, huh?”

Chrysalis’ smile did not change. “This time, Colonel. This time. You can’t count on the same luck forever.”

“We won’t compromise who we are,” Marcus said grimly.

“Admirable, no doubt,” Chrysalis replied, with a wry expression. “But don’t make promises if you aren’t sure you can keep them. You don’t know what’s coming, after all.”

“Neither do you,” Marcus pointed out. “And I’ve got a better idea. I’ve seen what the Solar Empire can do.”

“Oh, I’m certain you know more about her past deeds than I do,” Chrysalis said dismissively, “but clearly you weren’t expecting any of this, or you would have been better prepared. There’s an old saying about ‘the beginning of wisdom’...”

“Yeah, ‘I do not know’,” Marcus said irritably. “And you do not know when to shut up, do you?”

She chuckled. “I know when you want me to, now does that count? Such a shame I don't answer to you. We are allies, Colonel. I am not your subordinate.”

“No, but you are wrong,” Marcus said harshly. “I’m not going to play these kinds of games anymore. Whatever else happens, whatever the cloaked mare and the Tyrant and whoever else throws at us, I’ll make sure we meet it head-on. No pissing around. No machinations. Am I clear?”

“As glass,” Chrysalis said with a slight, half-mocking incline of the head. “Should you change your mind, however, please do call upon me again. I rather enjoyed all of this.”

She trotted off, smirking, and Marcus sighed.

“Who’d have thought?” Doctor Whooves, that is to say, their Doctor, not this world’s Doctor or that other fellow who appeared human, told Vinyl Scratch. “So, I guess this is what a ‘good’ timeline looks like.”

Eyes hidden behind her eternal purple shades, the former DJ, turned renegade, betrayed nothing of what she might be thinking. However, they could see her mouth was set in a thin, tight line. Vinyl had not uttered a word since, all together, they’d made their way out with the throng from the conference room. Not even the closeness of Allie, her beloved cousin, would snap her out of it.

Doctor Whooves shook his head. “Well, this explains why my other self has been a bit antsy. They must have asked for his input.”

Vinyl nodded non-commitally. “Mmh-hm.”

“Doesn’t explain why I’ve been getting a headache, feels like something big and four dimensionally resonant is coming, but...” he sighed, noticing Vinyl’s expression. “Sorry.” He paused. “Y’know, although Amethyst won’t show it, brave girl, I can tell how this all has been getting to her. She cares about her friends so much, and poor Miss Bjorgman, witnessing what she did’s left her a little bit broken, to hear Amethyst say it.”

What was this about Ana Bjorgman? It could bear looking into.

Vinyl sighed. “If you don’t mind, Doctor, I... I think I need to be alone for a moment.”

Doctor Whooves frowned at her. “Are you sure? Don’t want you all alone in a corner.”

Something about his words resonated.

But, looking from him, to Vinyl, to the other ponies, both those milling around her and those whom she’d grown to know, when they really didn’t know her that well, knowing just why they were here today… she also knew, then, that Vinyl Scratch wasn’t the only one who needed a moment on her own.

“Excuse me, Doctor,” she said quietly, raising a forehoof, a gesture she must have unconsciously picked up at the conference. He turned his attention from Vinyl to her. “I believe I, too, could use a minute to think.”

Though it was brief, his piercing gaze made her throat tighten as, just for a second, she feared he’d seen right through her. Then the scrutiny in his eyes went, replaced by understanding, as he gave her a sad smile.

“Alright, my dear,” Doctor Whooves said wryly. “I’m afraid the old girl’s parked a way from here, otherwise I’d have given anyone who needs it more than a minute. Take all the time you want, but don’t be gone too long, you. Goodness knows we’re not out of the woods yet. Doubt Amethyst’d stand to see another friend go missing. I’ll be waiting right… there.”

He gestured towards a large potted orchid at the far end of the antechamber. Gratefully, they nodded to him, before going their separate ways. Despite his words, something about his voice said he desired temporary solitude as well.

She split from the Doctor, from Vinyl, from the dispersing group, trying not to move too fast, or look around too often. At least she had some idea where she wanted to go. It didn’t take her long to find it. There, past the opening to the antechamber.

A bathroom door. She entered, and it swung shut behind her.

For one instant, she stood still, unsure what to do next. Then remembrance hit her. She moved over to the ornate palace sink, to turn on the taps. Twice did she splash her face, pausing the second time to stare down into the basin, feeling water drip from her mane, steam rising from the heat of taps still pouring. Condensation clouded the mirror; looking up, she couldn’t see who, or what, might have stared back.

“Well, then...” she whispered. “Honesty and compassion. Today was their day.”

In a way, she ought to have felt happier, lighter. Yet her head hung heavy on her shoulders. She had to balance herself, forelegs spread across the lip of the sink. It was starting to grow too warm inside her jacket. Unevenly, she willed her horn’s magic to tug at the sleeves, lifting herself just to enough to let it be pulled off, as if by an unseen hand.

Hands.

Her vision felt blurry, yet was it the steam, or something more? Tearing her gaze away from the basin, she reached for her jacket, laying crumpled on the edge of the sink. Her pale forehoof traced across the white-on-blue lyre insignia, passed on, to stop at her pocket and pull out th e blood-red marble. Distractedly, Weaver let the marble roll upon the limestone sink, tapping it from hoof to hoof, pondering.

“So, they have not yet truly lost their innocence… not as we have. Not as Man has lost his.” She sighed. “What shall I do? How much more must I harness Man’s own cruelty to harness Man himself? You call them victims, Princess Luna, and you, too, call us cruel. Your compassion speaks well of you... but if you hope you can always sate the hunger in Man’s heart this old way, when already he teaches you his ways on his terms, you shall be victims of your own kindness.”

With a soft ‘chink’, the marble rolled to a halt at her left hoof. She would show it to Catseye.

Left alone to her thoughts, Celestia solemnly contemplated the wooden casket before her. The undertakers had performed admirably, she thought, the image of the sleeper within returning to the forefront of her mind. A ring of white tulips had been left to adorn the great black box, and written in gold letters at the top, the inscription read, simply,

Beloved Mother, Sister and Friend.

Celestia inclined her head, reflecting on the chain of events which had led her here. What events must have gone differently, starting impossibly small, yet culminating in this tragedy, this abomination on their doorstep... Here, and over there.

‘We cannot save everyone,’ she thought to herself. ‘We have averted the cruelest of deeds we could perform… but we cannot change this.’

She took a deep breath, raising her head slightly.

‘And now we are clear,’ she thought grimly. ‘Now, I know how far they will go, and I will not let them win. If this is what the enemy want, ponies turned on ponies, death in the streets, then I will not let them have it.’

With a a soft bow to the box, Celestia turned and exited the room. There was work to be done.

Traipsing down the mildewed corridors of the Canterlot Dungeons, flanked by the same two ever-inexpressive Royal Guards – or could it be they were a wholly different pair of stallions? She felt like she’d been taken away long enough by that dull, frustrating psychological evaluation for the Guard to have changed in the meantime. Whatever the other facts were, one stayed clear above all to Trixie Lulamoon.

The hob-nobs hadn’t kept their promises. Evaluation of her case and professional opinion wouldn’t help her out anytime soon. She was still stuck down here, in this pit, until the Equestrian authorities decided she was safe to roam the streets again.

Not for the first time, Trixie silently cursed her foolishness in trying to seize the old artefact. She ought to have considered much earlier what this’d do to her career, how it would make her an outright fraud, to become ‘great’ and ‘powerful’ from the magical, diamond-shaped equivalent of a cheap energy drink. All because Twilight Sparkle, a student to Princess Celestia, no less, had to show her up by acting humble.

“That’s the place,” said one of the Guards, a unicorn, halting in his tracks and halting her.

Trixie stared around. “This… this isn’t the cell I left from.”

“No,” the Guard acknowledged, levitating a heavy iron set of keys, attached by chain to his polished armor. “Princess Luna’s orders. Said she felt it might help if you kept different company from the previous lot. We’re putting you in with a cellmate.”

“What? Hey, that’s not fair! Doesn’t Trixie even get a room to herself in this dump?!”

Yet beneath her snappy words, she had to resist the urge to either snort, or tap her hooves with glee. Though it might be a right pain here in the Dungeons, she’d started to miss proper equine contact, and anything would be better than having Locksmith for a neighbor.

The Guards shared a glance, but said nothing, as the unicorn finished turning the lock. With the familiar screech of iron upon iron, the cell door swung open, and the pegasus Guard not-too-roughly yet firmly gave her withers a slap, sharply nodding onwards.

“Oh, alright…” Trixie grumbled, tossing back her mane.

She took the step forward; before she knew it, the door was closing behind her, the sound of the brass key turning in its lock ringing in her ears, as did Guards’ gradually fading hoofsteps.

Staring out, Trixie clutched at the bars, blowing out her cheeks. “Pff… hello again, misery.” Dismally, she shook her head, turning back to see who was inside with her. “So even the royalty lies to Trixie. What a surprise.”

“Perhaps if Miss Lulamoon would take a seat, we can begin our questions?”

She felt her fur stand on end, yelping as she finally looked around to take in the Lunar Regent, silhouetted against the last, fading rays of sunlight from the barred window. But Luna was smiling as Trixie fumbled about, bashfully trying what was half-curtsy, half-kowtow.

“Ah... Trixie apologizes...”

“None of that now.” Luna said calmly, gesturing towards a Neighponese mat laid out on the cell’s floor. “Here, please sit down. We should be the one to apologize, for leading you on.”

Trixie blinked. “Leading… me on?”

“Yes,” the Princess sighed. “You must have noticed, during your stay in the Tower, your mind would drift away easily, like a leaf in the wind… a half-dreamlike state. That was its purpose. So you wouldn’t be quick to panic, and more open to suggestion.”

“Oh!” she cried. “Trixie shouldn’t be within these confines, then! Trixie was lied to and used! Trixie demands to be compensated for these cruel actions to the lovely and innocent Trixie!” Trixie swallowed nervously as she realized whom she was making demands to. “Please?”

Luna shook her head, giving her a stern look, though there was a twinkle in her eye. “Yes, We have abused your trust. Though that doesn’t absolve your attempts of theft.”

Trixie choked, giving a rather embarrassed look as she sat on the mat, trying to look anywhere but the alicorn. Luna sighed, prior to pushing on.

“Be that as it may...” Luna began, now fully catching her attention. There was an odd look on the dark alicorn’s face, and she sounded as if she’d prepared what she was about to say. “What I am going to do now, first, is explain to you a few truths about your other self. And once I’ve done that, I’ll tell you why you we had… plausible reason to lay further crimes than simple theft at your hooves, and I wish for you to listen and not interrupt, even if you find the results a little alarming. That’s all I ask, Miss Lulamoon.”

“O-of course.”

Half an hour later, Luna was waving a hoof before the magician’s face. Shock had frozen her.

“Miss Lulamoon?” she asked. “Trixie?”

“Trixie... has a coltfriend?”

Luna nearly facehoofed. Of all things to take away, this was what she wanted to focus on.

“Um, yes,” she explained. “Major Stephan Bauer. He is leader of the Eastern Front, second or third only to Colonel Marcus Renee, who is heading up the Western Front and the overall leader of the PHL.”

Trixie only snorted. “Trixie doesn’t care about that human, what’s the one my counterpart’s currently courting like?”

Once the Princess had finished describing the efforts of Stephan Bauer, not to mention the prestige of his rank and reputation in the war, Trixie seemed very pleased with the results.

“It stands to reason, at least something had to get better for Trixie in another life,” she grinned. “Trixie always did like a guy in a uniform! Didn’t fancy it’d be a different species’ male, or a handyman, though...”

“Your other self has taken quite a different path.”

“Trixie shall not stand in the way of Trixie!” the magician proclaimed. “Far be it from Trixie to hog the glory of a far greater in skill and magic than I… as long as she teaches me in return.” Trixie’s face turned serious. “Her coltfriend–”

“Boyfriend.”

“Her manfriend, on the other hoof, needs to be inspected thoroughly.” Trixie raised her head up high, almost acting more like the nobles of Canterlot than a prisoner.

Luna gave her a flat stare, realizing what she was doing.

“Miss Lulamoon,” she sighed, “I understand well your need to try and not see the monster before your eyes, but please do not make light of your situation. Let Us speak plainly,” she murmured, reverting again to the Old Speech. Now came the crux of the matter. “We… were misguided about you. Still, We shall persevere in our role as your Prisoner’s Friend. Because while your other self may fall under the rules of war, you, however, are still a criminal in the eyes of this country’s law.”

She had to bite down the bad taste in her mouth at her next words.

“When We told you we suspected your memory had been wiped,” Luna enunciated carefully, “We were… basing ourselves on guesswork and hearsay. It’s plain, now, that your memory is in working order. We said this wasn’t about that artefact you wanted. Well, it isn’t, not in itself. But We had good reason to believe, drawing from your other’s self admissions, that a mare thus disenchanted at this time of her life wouldn’t just do something drastic, she’d be driven to it by a radical cause.”

Trixie’s face fell.

“Oh…” she whispered, pawing at the mat. “Yeah… Trixie’s life... hasn’t been that great for the past few years… guess I shouldn’t be surprised it had to wind up here, down the deep hole…” She looked up at Luna, her eyes watery. “And you thought… I wanted to steal the Amulet to help those crazies trying to destroy mankind?”

“For a start.” Luna sighed as she stood up to place a wing upon the sniffing mare’s shoulders. “Please, I do not ask for your forgiveness, only your understanding,” she said quietly. “This is a hard time for Equestria. We don’t know who to trust… sometimes not even ourselves. But I’d like to get to know you better.”

Trixie turned her head to her, confused. “Trixie doesn’t understand.”

“I will not be here for long, but much like Twilight Sparkle is a student of Celestia, you too can be a student of mine.” Luna explained, gently rubbing her back. “I had many students back before I… lost myself, but each brought something grand to Equestria as a whole. You have much talent yourself, Trixie Lulamoon, such potential to be more. A glance at your other self will tell me... that much.”

At this, Trixie began to flush with pride, only to earn a tap on the snout from her Princess.

“Even so, should you accept, being my student is no easy task,” Luna said gruffly. “Nor would it give you permission to stand above others. Keep in mind, this is as much your punishment as it is your restitution. Any sign that you intend to use your gifts irresponsibly, and you shall be returned down here, without chance of appeal.”

“I... don’t understand?”

“You will remain in the castle, only allowed outside under guard,” she said. “You will remain within these walls for five years, then on probation for another year. In that time, you’ll be called to study what I write out for you, and be tested by teachers of my choosing, to ensure you are performing your studies to a satisfactory degree.” Luna took a breath. “You will stay in the Tower of Nepenthe, my tower, and be taken care of for those five years at least. And if you wish to stay after those five years, I will ensure you are inducted into the roster as a student, rather than a prisoner. No one except the Guards will know of your true status, unless you tell them otherwise.”

Trixie’s jaw was slack at the proclamation.

And then, the little mare’s eyes lit up. She squealed. She bounced. She didn’t care if she wouldn’t be able to leave, who would, she’d be given free range to walk within Canterlot Palace, as a student of the Moon Princess in person!

However, a new thought brought her back to earth.

“What… what about you, Princess?” she stammered. “You’re going to war. I mean, like, I know you’re immortal or something, but… suppose you don’t come back?” She gulped, hesitating before she asked, “Would… would that mean I have to stay locked up forever?”

“We shall endeavour to return if possible,” Luna said gently. “Though it humbles Us that you promise Us before we even attempt to convince you. As for you, I shall address the Headmaster of Celestia’s School, so that he may take you on if I can’t. Regrettably, he does not shine as he once did, at his age. But you’ll find him good company, for stuffy he is not. Spell Nexus is never boring.” Princess Luna bowed her head to Trixie. “Thank you, Miss Lulamoon.”

Trixie quickly bowed back, before straightening up. “Trixie will ensure that your teachings will not stop! Trixie will pass your knowledge to those worthy of them!” She held her hoof high, as if proclaiming to the very heavens. Luna laughed.

However, Trixie’s grew serious again. “Trixie has… can Trixie have one more request? Tr… I would like to learn from my counterpart… in case her skills may be needed.” Trixie lightly tapped her hooves together. Luna’s face was blank, encouraging Trixie to push onward. “I know the war is bad, and the chances of the Tyrant coming here are great. I would feel better knowing how to defend myself.”

Looking weary, Luna sighed, yet nodded. “Alright. Though it may prove difficult, I shall try and arrange a meeting. I’ve got a feeling your other self will want to know you’re alright after she learns of these past events. But be warned. She may not be what you expect.”

“Of course not!” Trixie said with a big grin. “She wouldn’t be Trixie if people saw her coming!”

“Yeah…” Luna trailed off. She stood to her hooves. “Alas, I must now depart, Miss Lulamoon. And, I fear, I must ask of you that, until the circumstances of your future are secured, you stay here for another few nights.”

That was a stone on Trixie’s heart. Nonetheless, rubbing her snout, she understood she had to be brave. For her Princess. And for herself, naturally.

“Okay,” she said in a hush. “If that’s your wish, Trixie shall disappear just a while longer.”

Luna chuckled once. “Worry not, you won’t be alone. I timed this encounter so that, about now, your cellmate ought to be arriving.”

Trixie blinked. “C-cellmate? For real?”

“Yes, I thought the Guards had informed you?” Luna replied, twitching her ears. Sure enough, outside, the telltale sound of hoofsteps was approaching. “And, by the way...” she added. There was still mirth in the Princess’ tone, but above it lay seriousness. A teacher’s voice. “Consider this as your first test, Trixie. The manner in which you interact with your companion will help me determine your true character.”

“But…” Trixie stuttered, hoof raised. “This is a prison!”

Luna contemplated her. “Sometimes, prison is better with company…” she said, sounding sad.

Trixie didn’t have time to ask what she meant when the door opened, iron screeching as ever. The two Guards from before were back, escorting a unicorn, a mare her size. With the daylight faded away, it was hard to tell, but Trixie guessed her coat color a light heliotrope. Her mane was what stood out, though; purple-and-aquamarine, combed into a peculiar, severe parting at the base of her horn. She entered, huffily.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Luna said, striding past the newcomer. “Good luck, both of you.”

Noisily, the door closed, and the Princess left with the Guards. Trixie, out of caution, remained on her mate while her new cellmate went to seat herself on the nearest bunk, folding her forehooves with a look of utter self-pity. After that, nothing changed.

Eventually, Trixie could bear it no longer. She coughed. “Um, hello? So, what you in for?”

The cellmate glanced at her, lip curled.

“Campaigning for equality.”

Marcus checked his watch.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I guess that’s that cat out of the bag.”

He looked from his end of the long table to Stephan and Celestia. This was still not the kind of environment he felt most at ease in. He vaguely considered summoning the Umbrella Man, yes, but once more reasoned that Holmes would be too busy.

“The press conference appears to have been successful in allaying our subjects’ fears,” Celestia commented. “I suspect the full ramifications of what we have done will not show themselves for a long time.”

“It’s better than the alternative,” Stephan said, sounding almost relieved. “At least the Trixie of this world will be alright.”

“That’s something,” Marcus agreed. He sighed. “So, with that business out of the way...”

Ornate oak doors slammed open as Luna fair came barging into the council chamber. Everyone, even Celestia, shot a glance her way, startled. She was walking normally, her breathing was steady, her mane its usual itself, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her attention was fixed on the carpet.

“Apologies for my delay, but there was business to attend to,” she said evenly. “However, there is... a matter I wish to discuss.”

“A matter?” Marcus repeated.

Luna raised her head, eyeing them all.

“I meant what I said at the press conference,” she whispered. “It is my intention to fight for the preservation of those taken by Tirek’s corruption. The Tyrant herself included.”

There was a pause as this pronouncement sank in with everyone in the room.

“That… might not be possible,” Stephan said quietly.

“Perhaps, but I will not surrender to his whims,” Luna hissed. “He wishes to destroy everything he touches. Killing those he has corrupted is merely another means of fulfilling his desire. To save his victims, that is a victory worth striving for!”

“I must admit,” Celestia murmured. “I understand the need for vengeance against the Queen for her crimes, but if there is anything left of her that is not corrupt, then I… I would ardently wish to fight to preserve it, if we can. Even the Newfoals.”

Marcus ran his hand over his short hair. “I don’t know if we’ll even get that chance. It’s pretty hard to save someone who keeps trying to kill you. And who knows what’ll happen to the Newfoals as Tirek gets backed into a corner.”

“No doubt,” Luna said drily. “Which is why I did not say it would be easy. But the most important deeds rarely are. I’ve witnessed the Tyrant’s worst crimes with mine own eyes. In my rage, my despair, I was all set to strike her down.”

She met her sister’s eye. Celestia stared back, betraying no emotion.

“And yet,” Luna pressed on. “Look at us now, my friends. Look at what we were ready to do. We cast this path aside, aye, before it was too late. Yet nought will change we were that close. I cannot forget. None of us can. And some small part of me can’t help but wonder, is this how Queen Celestia truly started? All the lies. The need for control. The desire to make the world… that which it suits us to be.”

Her gaze passed over them all, Celestia, Stephan, and at last, he, Marcus. He remembered Fluttershy’s Stare. He was a man who could match that. Now, he had to force himself to keep his gaze locked with Princess Luna’s. He chose not to bother; instead, he looked to Stephan.

“She’s got a point,” his friend and comrade told him wanly.

Marcus sighed. “I guess we can ask Discord if he’s got anything up his sleeve when he comes back. God knows, he’s gotta know something. But we can’t hesitate if there’s no other way.”

“Understood,” Luna said, nodding curtly. “So long as we agree we’ll seek that way if we can. We have to make it right, Colonel. Something has to be made right. Take it from me.”

And just like that, it was over.

It’s been two days since we held the conference. Two days, and everything’s… going well.

I’ve heard reports that recruitment increased five percent in these two days alone. Equestria is galvanized to go into battle, to fight not just to avenge humanity, but to avenge the attack on their land. I’ve read tactical projections that with the increased equine power, the overall effectiveness of our forces might go up more than we thought.

Faith. I guess I’d forgotten how to have faith. But now… now I could have faith after all, because it has proven true.

Still.

I nearly did something horrible, Cher. That thought, that impulse, to surrender to accepting the worst possible outcome because I… I dunno, I wasn’t willing to have that faith in people… Have I always been that man, Cher? Have I always been willing to just choose what was easy, to brush it off as ‘necessary’? If I hadn’t decided to take that leap of faith, would I’ve really done what we were planning to do?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I guess… it doesn’t matter, though. We didn’t do that. We stepped back from the abyss. We took a breath, and made the right choice. And now we’ll go forward. We will win the war. We’ll save Earth. We’ll save humanity. We’ll stop the Tyrant, and through that, we’ll stop Tirek.

My conscience was already heavy before this. I can bear the weight of an almost-decision.

I can.

… DELETE Y/N.

N.

… MESSAGE SENT.

The lights in the city were twinkling softly.

The Doctor (‘Definitely never going by Dr. Bowman again,’) was, once more, leaning against a balcony railing, his expression calm as he looked out on Canterlot. He was feeling rather good about himself, all things considered.

“So, you must feel proud,” Doctor Whooves said from behind him, lifting a cup of herbal tea.

“A little,” the Doctor admitted, sipping from a glass bottle of Coca Cola. “I’d hoped that Colonel Renee would see the light, so to speak.”

“He did,” Whooves said with a smirk. “And all it took was a drink. Why am I not surprised?”

“Give your friend some credit,” the Doctor grinned. “I think it took a bit more than that.”

“Probably,” Whooves admitted. He sighed. “You know, everyone’s been on edge because of this stuff. Vinyl, Dancer, Cadance… none of them were happy. They were afraid.”

“And you wish you could help them,” the Doctor asked quietly.

“I do,” Whooves said quietly. “Wouldn’t you?”

“A point.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“So I’m curious,” Whooves said softly. “What did happen in that future you saw?”

The Doctor’s smile faded.

A lonely grave for a broken mare. Friendships shattered, love lost. A world closer to the edge of Armageddon and worse. Bad choices, some of them his own.

And a bargain struck in haste, with consequences he prayed would not be too harsh for everyone else, even as he knew what they would be for him.

“Don't really feel like discussing it,” he said quietly.

“Alright,” Whooves replied softly, sensing that it was a sore point. He grimaced and took another sip of his tea.

“You alright?” the Doctor asked.

“Been getting damn headaches for days,” Whooves replied. “Like something’s pressing against my skull. Four dimensional fallout.” He looked to his counterpart. “You’ve not been getting that?”

“No,” the Doctor said, though his expression was odd. “Might be nothing.”

“Or it might be something,” Whooves retorted. “Shouldn’t we warn someone?”

The Doctor waved a hand. “They've got enough problems. I doubt Tirek’s messing with time and space. He's not that imaginative.”

Whooves nodded, giving his other self a look.

“You did something,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t you?”

The Doctor blinked. “Me?”

“Don’t play coy,” Whooves said, frowning at him. “Of the two of us, one of us has the tendency to change history, and one of us does not. You’ve done something that’s caused this fallout. Something big.”

The Doctor held up both hands. “Nope. Not me.”

“Who then, if not you?” Whooves asked with a scowl.

“No idea,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “Lots of potential possibilities, few actualities. Probably not something to worry ourselves over for the moment.”

Whooves sighed. “All the same…”

“All the same,” the Doctor cut him off, “if it persists, I’ll help you look into it, okay?”

Whooves sighed, admitting defeat. “Alright.”

“One thing I’ve been meaning to ask, by the way, since we’re on the topic of time travel,” the Doctor said after a moment. “‘Time Turner’s Theory of Temporal Dynamics’.”

Whooves looked embarrassed for a moment. “Oh, you read that.”

“And you stuck to it,” the Doctor grunted. “You told them time is immutable?”

Whooves looked defensive. “Didn’t want R&D coming up with any ideas. I covered my rear.”

The Doctor smirked. “Good point. Colonel Hex would have trod on so many poor old butterflies trying to change history if I’d let him… you dodged bullets there.”

“Why the butterflies, anyway?” Whooves asked.

“I have no idea,” the Doctor shrugged. “Humans, eh?”

Whooves chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean…”

There was another pause.

“So, marriage,” the Doctor suddenly said.

Whooves nodded. “Marriage.”

“Wow,” the Doctor said with a less-than-convincing whistle. “How’s that working?”

Whooves shrugged. “Can't complain. Less hectic than some. Less beheading threats. Less Zygons.”

“Always good,” the Doctor agreed. “Don't you find it dull, though?”

“Oh, we still travel around,” Whooves said with a smile. “Or we did. Actually it was quite useful for school holidays: makes them last twice as long. Same with weekends."

The Doctor chuckled. “Will wonders never cease.”

Whooves laughed too, before sighing.

“Look,” he said. “I’d probably better go. Lots to do. Need to run a few diagnostics on the TARDIS, see if I can accelerate the repair any.”

The Doctor nodded. “I might be able to help with that. I’ll swing by in a few.”

“No, I...” Whooves began, but he cut himself short. “Alright. Any help would be appreciated.”

He headed off, leaving the Doctor alone on the balcony again.

The Time Lord smiled. He’d done the right thing, despite very nearly being made to do something that wasn’t the right thing at all, despite… other things.

He’d helped Colonel Renee see a better choice. Now the future he had seen, a future of torn friendships, broken morals and shattered ideals, was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Even he didn’t know what was going to happen next.

‘Maybe I'll go have a look for myself,’ he thought, a smile working its way onto his face. ‘I’m sure this place can survive without me for a little while…’

“Doctor,” a voice said quietly from behind him, interrupting his train of thought.

He frowned. He knew that voice. He turned, an unreadable expression on his face as he confronted his visitor.

For a long while, they just stared at one another. No pretensions. No words.

“Hello,” he said quietly after a moment. “I shouldn’t be surprised. It was only a matter of time.”

The other didn’t answer. A moment passed, and the Doctor simply stared.

“You expect me to beg?” he asked after a moment. “Because I’m not going to. I did the right thing, whether you agree or not.”

There was no answer, and the Doctor sighed.

“Well?” he finally asked. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to do what you came here to do?”

A bang and a flash of light, and something lashed out, slamming into the Doctor’s chest. He fell backwards, hitting the railing. He blinked, shock and pain in his features.

There was a sound, somewhere between the ringing of tinnitus in someone’s ear and bells ringing in the distance. He looked down at his left hand, a soft, blue-white glow slowly emanating from it. He looked back up at his assailant. Another bang. Another flash. The force threw him over the railing and off of the balcony, his body spinning into the night.

There was silence on the balcony. The assailant turned and left, satisfied the task was done.

The lights in the city kept twinkling.

Author's Notes:

Hey, guys. Jed R, here, posting the final part of the In The Pale Moonlight arc...

... anyone got a sense of deja vu?

Might I recommend to everyone to go read A Sun In Winter, Sledge115's latest story, which is a look into the distant past of the Alicorn sisters of Spectrum's continuity: a tale of monsters, villains, heroes, siblings and lost innocence in the snow... and reindeer.

Anything else I might have to say can be said elsewhere. All I'd like to say now is thank you, to the readers, the co-authors and everyone else. Thank you all.

Cheers,

Jed.

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Dear readers, the page views have always been at this rate. It would have been larger had not Reitman meddled, and Trixie's cellmate has always been Gilda Griffon. Not Starlight Glimmer, thinking otherwise is a Mind Felony. That is all. REDSKIN IS VIGILANT! - AuthUnsung The Idiot

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Dear readers, this is the first time you are being addressed by TyReme. Trixie’s cellmate has always been Starlight Glimmer and never Gilda Griffon, thinking otherwise is a Mind Felony and twice-addition-unwell. That is all. THEIDIOT IS AWARE! - TyReme TheIdiot