Well, this is my first Fan Fic, and I wrote it as a means of dealing with my own feelings about the ending of HDM, and also an attempt to resolve loose ends in the story that Mr. Pullman left dangling tantalizingly in front of our eyes. I began to feel that he was more interested in selling future books than writing an eternal ending.

I claim total ownership of the characters, concepts, and story of HDM, and let Mr. Pullman and his teams of lawyers make me say otherwise.

Enjoy, comment if you feel you need to, let me know if I fscked something up.

Bump to the top update!

A Friend Who Could Help

He bent intently over his work, a thick medical text on anatomy, in the small flat he shared in Oxford. In a sparse white room, furnished with only a wooden desk and chair, a bed, and shelves upon shelves of medical books, Will Parry sat at his work, pen in hand. A long knife hung from his belt, worn out of habit and memories formed long ago and reinforced by his mangled left hand and the sheath and shards of another far keener knife at the bottom of his closet. Being a medical student came easy to Will: his adventures 9 years previous had brought his fingers, his perceptions of disease and wrongness, to a pique almost supernatural. He charted out the progression of a bone disease across a copy of a skeleton, learning the names and science behind the maladies he could simply sense. As he traced, his eye caught a small horn box containing an ointment he was striving to unlock the secrets of. Yet the Bloodmoss was from another world: it was certainly possible that it existed no where within his own. But beyond that, it was a reminder of the father he found only in death, and far more, a note of love, of a face and a sensation only in his memory, a poor substitute for the reality denied to him. He hung his head; put his face in his hands, as the memories now more a torture of loss rather than a reminder of joy washed over him. His daemon bumped up against his right knee, eyes sad and coat shimmering in subtle shades of night, deep in their emotions and seeking to give and receive solace and comfort to her human. He reached down and helped her flow to his lap.

"Oh, Kirjava, after all these years… does she still feel the same? I know I do… every summer I go, and try and pretend we're not alone and heartbroken yet again…"

"They do still love us, Will. Of course they do. They promised their very lives."

She purred as he laid a hand on her, trying to bring him comfort. But his growing despair felt its way through their link, and she gave into whimpers of remorse and compassion as the waves of sorrow and rage quaked over Will yet again. The remembered touch of his love, his Lyra, her breath on his ear, her heart beating in time with his: teasing him, reminding him of the cruelty of fate, of the universe. He cried out in despair, standing and pushing the desk against the wall, sending the chair tumbling to the floor; medical instruments, pens, and highlighters rolling in every direction. Kirjava tumbled off his lap, but leaped up to his broad shoulders, to share in his sorrow and loss, for Pantalaimon was just as gone to her. As tears flooded eyes and he raged in despair, his mother knocked on and opened the door, hearing the passionate cries of her son.

"Will? Darling? Are you okay?"

He turned, tearfully, to face the woman he had to care for for the last 14 years. She had not improved since he left, and Will found himself in a situation quite the opposite of how it should be upon his return. True, the third member of his little household helped; but it made it no easier to deal with a story that no one but Mary Malone could hear.

His unseen daemon whispered words of solace and calm into his ear as Will faced his confused but caring mother, choking back his emotions.
"I'm fine, mum. But thank you for asking."
She looked at him with a perception that seemed inappropriate to her mental state, and turned to leave, saying, "Well, okay, then… but I wish you would tell me what brings you such sadness eventually."

Will looked at her in perplexity, straight black brow furrowed in confusion, as she left the room, closing the door behind her He sighed, turned back to his desk, and tried to get back to his work, Kirjava on his shoulders. He soon gave up, finding it impossible to focus as he often did when thoughts of Lyra entered his mind. He stood and crossed to his bed, flung himself down and stretched out on his back. Kirjava moved half onto his stomach and curled up, green cat eyes glinting at him in compassion. He reached out and stroked her, saying, "Oh, Kir, I've spent all this time taking care of my mother, learning and sharing and building for other's dreams… but when will others help us? When do we get help building our own heaven?

All this sacrifice, reading and asking for the hopes and dreams of others… Oh, Pan, it's just not fair! We sacrificed and hurt for others, to help others, alone all our lives, and then finally found each other… and then we were forced apart to sacrifice again for the sake of others. And every reminder of him makes it worse. Oh, I miss him, I miss him so very much, I miss my Will!"

And with that Lyra broke, sobbing into the soft fur of her marten Pantalaimon, who cried with her, and cuddled close, trying to comfort her. Her sobs slowly subsided, and he reached out, pulled the Alethiometer to them; and rubbed softly against her wet, beautiful chin.

"I think you should ask, Lyra."

She looked at him with incredulity: "Pan, we mustn't, it's so selfish… we can't build if we put ourselves first!"

"We ent' ever put ourselves first, Lyra. We've always put others there, but no one can build happiness for themselves out of the happiness of others' dreams. We must build our own happiness… So ask, ask what you re-learned the symbols for, from the first."

And she realized he was right. Her anguish had only grown from that day, nine long years ago, no matter the energy she poured into others' dreams. She had only really learned in the hopes of one-day finding herself able to ask after him, and she knew it, in the depths of her heart. So, after a brief spell, she leaned over the Alethiometer, spun the knurled knobs and asked the device, with nervousness in her heart:

How is my Will?

The answer came, and she wrote it down as it did, understanding only some. But with a brief study in the book of symbols the answer came clear to her: he misses you more every minute. Joy mingled with the pain he surely must be feeling, touched her heart as she posed another question: the one she had wanted to ask from the night on the beach of another world when they found their fate plain before them: "How can I see him again?"

And the needle swung, went to an answer she could see even without the book: the chameleon, where it stopped. But it couldn't be! She looked up, into his rusty red face, and asked, quavering, "Pan…?"

"Time to tell me what, Kirjava?"

She sighed, looked into his eyes, "have you ever wondered how me

and Kirjava left the world of the dead?"

And Lyra looked, astonished, at her dear daemon revealing his secret at last.

"I never gave it a thought! How

did you leave? There was only one door, and it was the one I made to a different world than where we found you!"

Will sat up, putting his head in his hands: "How could I be so stupid?!?"

And he turned, with anger and wonder in his eyes, to stare at Kirjava: "Why didn't you tell me before now? Why did you hide

a way to find our love again? Why, Pan, why?"

Pan looked back into her tearful eyes, the pain he had caused his human.

"Because you had to build; to find that the world would not build your own happiness, give back what you truly wanted. To see if maybe it could, and surprise us both. Because it simply might not work."

Her tears faded, and she gathered her beloved Pantalaimon to her breast, and gave him love, and asked, simply:

"How?"

Kirjava nuzzled him back, and then with surprising strength, pushed him back down on the bed. "Mary taught us to meditate, to rest our bodies until our souls can look in from beyond. Reach for that state of mind, that acceptance of possibility, and picture her… and put yourself beside her, pull with all your mind to the side of your love, to the touch of her universe that you've never forgotten." As she spoke, Kirjava laid down next to him, to help him concentrate.

Lyra lay back in bed, eyes closed, fists tight in apprehension and eager energy. From her neck, Pan guided her: "you have to relax, as if you're reading the Alethiometer, and from there, place him next to you, pull with all your heart. Nothing but everything you are will be enough."

So, she slipped into her trance. The tension left her body, and only her mind, her soul, reached out to her lost love. After a lengthy period of struggle, of mental exhaustion and sweat rolling down her face which Pantalaimon gently licked up, she felt something entirely new: a faint brush of emotion, of need and desire and despair and faint hope matching hers; and a warm strength and ferocity, so familiar despite the years.

And when Will's mind brushed a faint, warm softness, felt emotions matching his own, and a warm breath against his ear, he started. It rushed away as his concentration wavered. But it was hope, more than he had for many painful years before then.

Such a brief touch was all that was needed to remind those souls entangled of their oneness. He opened his eyes and looked into his daemon's, who gazed back, overjoyed to have brought her human happiness at last.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you…" he mumbled into her fur as he gathered her into a hug, purring all the while.

He lay back again, this time expecting the contact, and found it this time after only 5 minutes. Again, he felt her mind brush against his, and this time held a question:

Is it really you? In it he heard an echo, if such a thing was possible in thought.

Yes, he said, yes the answer came back.

Like reading a book, the ideas came into his mind, not even sure if they weren't his own.

Were you reaching too?

Yes, I was. Kir showed me.

And they felt the other fill with joy, with hope, as their connection faded, both of them exhausted. One last thought came through: tomorrow night, again.

Months later, daily filled with emotion, thoughts shared, and the difficult task of shaping dust into form with desire, will power, and love, the universe acquiesced. Lyra pulled with all her soul as Will pulled as well, and slowly, the weight of another body settled into her bed, and with a gasp of breath came to be. She opened her eyes slowly, tired, hardly daring to look, in case it was another dream… But no! He was there, looking back, tears of joy in his blazing eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stopped; it couldn't be! But it was. And with a small moan of her desire for him, his heart melted again, and every fiber of his being rang with love.

"Oh, Will…"

They drew toward one another in an instant, held each other tight, clinging, holding on for dear life. Their lips found each other, and they kissed, daemons cuddling at their feet, joy in every motion. And it was as if the years of despair, of anguish, pain, and isolation had never existed, as if they were 12 again, in a grove on another world.

Of course, they were not, as the press of her breasts against his chest told him, and the scratch of his stubble on her neck told her. It was the same, but they had changed, grown. And so they gave into desires now present, and made perfect love to each other as the dust of the universe swirled in their joy, in the confirmation of love so pure and true that it could shift the fate of the universe. She afterward lay next to him, clutching Kirjava and shivering in pleasure and joy as he held Pantalaimon, and their thoughts touched, this time through their daemons:

I never want to leave you again, she thought to him, pain visible faintly through her joy.

We will never have to, he thought, smiling at her.

And again they reached for each other, and came together, and kissed, and loved, and fell asleep in each other's arms, returning at last to the heaven they had built together.

They woke within moments of each other, smiling; kissed, and rose, went to the small bath nearby Lyra's room, and barred the door. The room was rough-hewn wood and stone, like Lyra's, but with only one small window set high above the floor, all browns and sandstone reds. They stripped down, and when she finished, Lyra drew a bath in the iron basin as Will looked on. She moved with the faint grace he saw so long ago blossomed at last. She leaned over the tub, and pushed her hair back behind her ears in an unconscious gesture that made him shiver in delight of memory, of love reborn. She had become a woman, curves showing where before there were only hints. She turned back from the bath and gazed at him, blue eyes sparkling. There was her Will! Taller, broader in chest and shoulders, a strong, powerful man; but still her Will, his eyes blazing with love so intense it would have terrified her had she not felt exactly the same. She walked to him and held his body to hers, closed her eyes and drew in his scent. He held her back tightly, breathed in the honey-sweet scent of her. They stood, simply forgetting the bath, hearts beating against each other, until Kirjava nudged Will's leg "You'd better watch the tub," she said, as Pantalaimon curled in figure eight's around her legs. Lyra looked down at her, and then to the bath, catching it just before it ran over, laughing in delight. Will pushed her in, laughingly, splashing water everywhere, and followed her shortly, as Kirjava seized Pantalaimon gently in her jaws, rolled onto her back, and preceded to play and nuzzle with him. Will and Lyra settled back in the bliss of their daemon's love, and she held him tightly against her.

Once they remembered to clean themselves, they dressed and went down to the dining hall, amongst the scholars, garnering looks of curiosity from every direction. However, all the scholars watching knew that they saw something pure, something rare and worth seeing: true love. They were in constant contact, their eyes blazed with warmth, and they looked as if nothing mattered but their partners. Lyra got breakfast from the kitchens, brought it to the place where Will sat and looked around in delightful, quiet interest and then they ate and fed each other, as if they were alone, for they saw no one else. Only the master of the college and his raven daemon knew just how precious a reunion the scholars saw, how much of their lives had depended on them; and his heart swelled in joy to see his charge find love again.

Back to her room they went, hand in hand, murmuring and drunk in love. They kissed, closed the door, and Will said: "I have to go. I have class soon, and I can't miss it. One class and I could fall behind… Oh, Lyra, I don't want to go!

"But it's only for now, my love. Only until we come together again, love again…" she said with a blush. He smiled back, eyes intense, kissed her, and pulled her giggling down to the bed, where she lay her head on his shoulders. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and saw his room at home, reached for his bed and the feel of his own universe on his skin; his work and tools. Slowly, although he couldn't say how, it became reality; he knew (just as he had known his daemon on sight) that he was back in his own universe. But there was something more: the weight of Lyra on his chest, her heartbeat against his. Through his surprise, she kissed him hard.

"Never again," she said, "we will never be alone again. Apart, perhaps, but never alone."

Will hugged her tightly against him, crying freely; his love returned to him. They rose together, and went to surprise Mary and Will's mother in the light of morning streaming in from the windows.