Disclaimer: etc...etc...
The ending of HDM kinda was depressing, so:
Lyra and Pantalaimon strolled about the campus of Jordan College in Oxford. It was the beginning of June, and the air was warm and balmy. Lyra was seventeen, yet she had wisdom and maturity beyond her years. Her friends and fellow ragamuffins who knew her before she left for the north five years ago were surprised to see that she was quite a bit more subdued than her former self. They didn't know the half of it.
It was nearly evening, and the sky in the west was awash in brilliant colors that reminded her of the Northern Lights. She sighed.
We deserve a break, Pan, she said, staring into the sunset.
The pine marten snorted. We are on break; we've been trudging through volumes in the library all day.
That en't what I mean. She sighed again. We need a break from everything, from all this, even from this sunset. Sometimes I just don't care. Pantalaimon realized her thoughts and kept silent.
Lyra hardly spoke of what was troubling her anymore, yet it troubled Pan that she was so silent most of the time. He knew what was wrong, though, as if it was written on her forehead. Will Parry: that was what was wrong. It was sunset in his Oxford as well; Lyra wanted to be watching that.
Lyra . . . he cautioned.
I'm so alone, she whispered.
Now Lyra, said Pan, You en't alone at all. You have me, and you'll have me until you die and after. She looked at him, then, and her eyes welled with tears. She couldn't say anything to that, not to her faithful Pan, yet she knew that he already was aware that it just wasn't the same. Pan climbed up onto her shoulder. It's ok, Lyra. Go ahead and cry. You miss him.
Crying en't going to bring anybody back. Her dæmon found no answer to this and did not reply. Lyra found a bench near the path and sat down. I don't know, Pan. I don't know what to do. I can't think about anything anymore. Then, though she wouldn't have wanted to, she put her face in her hands and cried. Pan didn't say anything, but he climbed into her collar and curled around her neck.
* * *
Will Parry lay on his bed in his and Mary's apartment in Oxford. Kirjava was curled up beside him. The sun was setting here, too, but Will was in no mood to enjoy it. His eyes were closed, yet he was not asleep, and he was completely still except for the movement of his chest as he inhaled.
Mary knocked on the door of his room.
I'm going out to a conference. Dinner's in the microwave.
He heard her footsteps turn from his room and go out into the living room. Then, the door shut. He rolled out of bed and stood up, only to find that his head ached something awful. He squinted and rubbed his forehead. he whispered. The cat dæmon blinked once and then arose.
I didn't know if you were asleep.
I wasn't.
Will got up from his bed and stumbled into the kitchen as the microwave beeped to show it was finished. He took out the food: leftover chicken, and set about eating it. Picking up the paper, he noticed that there was a front page article with a picture of a young woman. Reading the caption, he found her name was Laura Burton. The photo didn't even look like Lyra, but he thought of her all the same. He put the paper down and sighed.
Will had tried to keep his thoughts from wandering to Lyra, but he was unsuccessful. For him the pain was still too near; he didn't think about it if he could. But he loved Lyra, that was why he forced himself to not remember her every minute, he loved her with all of his aching heart.
For that reason he tried to have girlfriends, because that was what Lyra would have wanted, but he couldn't keep them for more than a week; they didn't mean anything. He often thought he was doomed to die a bachelor, for the only person whom he'd ever marry was the one he couldn't. Damn it! he yelled, as a tear drop fell onto his plate. Kirjava padded silently into the kitchen. I was doing so well, he muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
Kirjava rubbed her head against his leg. It's ok to think about her, Will. You don't have to put her out of your mind.
Java, if I think about her all the time then I wouldn't have a life! he snapped at her, wiping his burning eyes. He sighed. I'm sorry. It's just--I can't. It's not like regular sadness that wears off after a while. I haven't seen her in almost five years, and I still can't think about her and not get upset.
* * *
Lyra was in her dormroom at Jordan, preparing for bed. It was late; she'd gone to the Botanical Garden and sat for a few hours on the bench even though it wasn't Midsummer's Day.
She looked in the mirror, sitting across from it in a chair and resting her head on her fist. She sighed. Pan bounded up onto her lap. Will again? he asked, sympathetic.
Lyra nodded. It's always worse near Midsummer's Day. She sighed again. What's it take, huh? she whispered fiercely to nobody in particular. I can't cope with this! How can I cope? I can't live like this! She bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly to keep from crying.
* * *
Will was sitting on the couch watching a game of cricket on TV with a bag of chips when Mary walked in the door. Kirjava was curled up at the end of the sofa.
Hi, Will, said Mary.
he replied, not letting his eyes leave the game.
Mary set down her briefcase and sat down next to him. She reached for a chip. Tough day, huh?
said Will.
Mary noticed the look in his eyes and changed the subject. She knew that Lyra was always a touchy subject with Will, and didn't bring it up with him if possible. Listen, I thought you would like to know, I've finished reconstructing the Cave at work today, and if you like I'd show it to you.
Will started in mid-chew, and his eyes grew wide. You mean the Cave . . . the computer . . . with Dust? That works like the aleth . . . Right now? You can show me now?
Mary smiled and nodded. Sure. I thought you'd be interested.
They put on their coats and left.
* * *
Will arrived at the office behind Mary. She flipped the light switch and strode over to the Cave. she told him, and he did so. She put the adhiesive gel on his forehead and arms and attached the tabs. I need to talk to one of the other researchers for a second, but go ahead and knock yourself out. In fact, she had to do nothing of the sort, but she wanted to give Will privacy, as she knew exactly what he would ask about.
Will began to type without really knowing what to do.
Um, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing here, but--
ASK A QUESTION.
Ok. My name is Will, and--
WE ALREADY KNOW YOUR NAME.
ASK A QUESTION.
All right. How is Lyra?
LYRA IS FINE. SHE IS IN COLLEGE AT
JORDAN COLLEGE IN HER OXFORD.
Is there any way that I could ever see her again?
NO.
Will stared at the screen for a moment, not typing anything. He had expected the answer, but expecting and seeing are two different things. And, as Lyra said, it never lies. He wiped his eyes with his hand.
Not any way? Please, say there is...
WELL, THERE IS ONE WAY. HOWEVER,
IT REQUIRES SKILL AND TRAINING. YOU ARE
THE BOY WITH THE SUBTLE KNIFE, CORRECT?
Yes.
THEN IT MAY NOT BE AS DIFFICULT FOR YOU
AS IT WOULD FOR SOMEONE ELSE.
What are you?
YOU HAVE SEEN US BEFORE. WE ARE THE
WATCHERS. BENE ELIM. ANGELS.
Are you Dust?
YES.
How can I see Lyra again?
YOU CAN LEARN TO TRAVEL
BETWEEN WORLDS AS ANGELS DO.
How?
THERE ARE OTHER WAYS OF MAKING
WINDOWS BESIDES THE SUBTLE KNIFE.
How do I--
YOU MUST LISTEN. DO YOU REMEMBER HOW
YOU CLOSED WINDOWS WITH THE SUBTLE KNIFE?
Yes.
YOU CAN USE THE SAME THOUGHT
PATTERN TO OPEN A WINDOW. TRY NOW.
But I don't--
YOU MUST TRY.
Will pushed his chair back from the computer desk and breathed deeply. He closed his eyes. He held out his left hand and made as if to pinch shut a window that he had made with the knife. Nothing happened. He looked back at the screen.
YOU WILL NOT DO IT BY TRYING TO SHUT
A WINDOW, YOU MUST TRY TO OPEN A
WINDOW.
But I--
INSTEAD OF TRYING TO PINCH THE WINDOW
SHUT, TRY TO FEEL IT OPEN WITH YOUR
FINGERS. PUT YOUR MIND OUT WHERE YOUR
HAND IS.
Will nodded and breathed out slowly. He gently put his hand in front of him again and felt in the air with his fingertips. It wasn't as easy as with the subtle knife which had an edge that could find any snag, but it wasn't impossible, either. Will cloased his eyes and hunted methodically for one of the countless billions of openings in the air in front of him. He was accustomed to such hunting, and found an opening into Lyra's world within two minutes. Then, trying to calm his mind, he tugged at the snag and it opened into a window that was little more than a handspan in size. Will opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
Will this do any harm? I mean,
like will it let out Dust or
make Specters?
NO. THIS IS A PERFECTLY SAFE WAY
OF OPENING A WINDOW.
Why didn't anyone tell me
this before?
YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO
OPEN WINDOWS.
Why not?
YOU HAD IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.
LIKE WHAT YOUR FATHER SAID.
But I told my father that I wasn't
going to let anyone tell me what I
was going to do.
THAT'S RIGHT.
So...
SO YOU ARE CHOOSING TO SEE LYRA AGAIN.
I don't understand why we couldn't
do this before. Why didn't an angel
just open a window for us?
WE AREN'T ALLOWED. AND WE
HAD NO WAYOF CONTACTING YOU.
But couldn't we have done this in the
beginning? I mean, if they don't take up
Dust, then why couldn't we--
NO. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND,
AND IT ISN'T OUR PLACE TO TELL YOU.
Will stood and pulled the wires off of himself. He wiped off the gel with a tissue and closed the window. It was easy to do, after he remembered the general gist of it. Then he went to find Mary.
She was walking towards him as he emerged from the room. She had been waiting around the corner until she heard the door open. Interesting, eh?
murmured Will.
* * *
It was Midsummers Day, and Will felt a pang of excitement as he dressed. It was a Sunday, and usually he liked to sleep late, but not today. He was going to Lyra's world today. Kirjava was already up, which was a surprise. He had told her about the day with the Cave even though she hadn't been there. I'd better come then, she had told him. You don't want to draw attention to yourself because you didn't have a dæmon. He agreed.
He made his way to the Botanical Gardens in the center of Oxford and made his way to a bench under a willow tree. It was his and Lyra's special bench; they came there every Midsummers Day to be close to each other.
When he reached it, he went into the shrubbery nearby and opened a window. It was hidden, which was good. He checked his watch: 11:45. With any luck Lyra hadn't come yet; he wanted to surprise her. He was right. He sat down on the bench and told Kirjava to stay in the bushes.
Lyra arrived at five of twelve. She was holding Pan in her arms as she walked down the lane, but she set him down and he ran off into the bushes. Will was amazed at her beauty, but didn't show it. She had grown up so much, yet had a look of sadness as she walked toward the bench. She noticed that there was someone there at once.
she said.
he replied amiably.
She frowned at him, and for a moment he thought she recognized him, but she just asked, Where's your dæmon?
He gestured over to the bushes. Over there.
She nodded, relieved. Will remembered the look of horror she had given him when they first met and he had had no dæmon.
Waiting for someone? she asked.
Sort of. He gazed into the distance and the breeze ruffled his hair. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?
Yes, I suppose. She looked at him for a moment. Have we met? she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. Maybe. You look a little familiar. Do you go to Jordan college? he asked, though he knew the answer.
She nodded. Do you go there, too?
he replied, But I've been by there a few times. Will was running out of options, as he didn't know what schools there were in Lyra's Oxford, so he changed the subject. Are you waiting for someone? You look a little worried.
Yes, I am, she said, and he knew that there was a lie coming from the look on her face, he knew it so well. I have a professor who asked me to come here and look at this tree because I'm studying botany, and one of my classmates is due to arrive soon.
Will decided to call her bluff. Oh, that's where I've seen you. You're Lyra Belaqua, right? Yes, I attended one of your professor's seminars on biology, and we met there, I think.
Lyra stared at him, startled. He could tell that she was beginning to recognize him, but she couldn't place it. He decided to help her.
What's wrong? he asked her.
she replied hastily, trying to cover her surprise. I just don't remember your name.
he told her. Mark Ransom. I think you've also met my sister Lizzie. The truth was finally dawning on her, and he smiled broadly.
Her eyes grew wide and she stood up sharply, hand over her mouth. Oh my god, she whispered.
Will casually rested his right ankle upon his left knee. That's right, he said sardonically, and held up his left hand, from which two fingers were missing.
You en't . . . It can't be . . . she trailed off. How did . . . how did you . . . ?
Mary reconstructed the Cave, in her office. Remember the Cave? Anyway, I asked it if there was a way to see you, and here I am. William Parry, at your service. When she didn't respond, he said gently, C'mon, Lyra, I'm not a Specter. I'm sorry I was joking . . .
Lyra turned away and felt hot tears roll down her cheeks.
Lyra . . . said Will again, and when she looked back at him she noticed that his face was wet with tears as well. He held out his arms and she came willingly, sobbing into his shoulder, and he kissed her moist face and forehead and eyes and hair . . . I missed you so much . . . he whispered.
I can't believe it, she murmured. I never thought I'd see you again. Oh,
Will . . . She buried her face in his chest, and cried until his shirt was damp. He held her tightly in his arms and cried himself. I love you, I love you, I love you . . . I knew you could do it . . . she whispered.