The Silver Clock
Disclaimer: The same thing that you read in all the other chapters. I don't own Lyra, Will, Mary, St. Sophia's, the Botanic Gardens, or any other characters or settings. However, I do own the clock and the concept of the blends.
Author's Note: To anyone who's read this far, thank you. I would be amiss if I did not also thank my wonderful reviewers. So here they are: Latios151, Hilz72, Dreaming-Cat-369 (who, I must add, has reviewed twice!), Ella Cinders, Nianeyna, and namine101. Thanks you guys! Also let me say:
namine101: In this chapter you can find out more... but I'll still leave you wondering, because if I told you everything, there wouldn't be much of a story, would there?
Nianeyna: I'm glad I gave you hope. I hope that this chapter will continue to do so.
Ella Cinders: It's going.
Dreaming-Cat-369: Yes, we all love plot developments, don't we?
I apologize to have bored all you non-reviewer readers with this. Now, on with the story!
Chapter Four: The Blend
Will woke up early that morning. He had no idea why, and yet he couldn't get back to sleep. And then he remembered: it was Midsummer's Day.
He sat up in bed. Today was the day that he had been thinking about for the past year. Today he would get to be with Lyra, more or less. Even in their separate worlds, maybe they could feel each other. Maybe their worlds would align, just for a moment.
He got out of bed and quickly dressed. He had things to do, stories to tell his mother, and most importantly, places to be. One very significant place.
Every other morning, Will had risen with a sense of dejection, of knowing nothing was right and may well never be. But today he bustled with an excited sense of business. Today he had a mission. Today he would be with Lyra.
He rushed downstairs and stopped at the sight of Mary. She looked like she hadn't slept at all. Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "Will," she said gently, "what are you doing up?"
"M-Mary," Will stuttered. "I was just- you know, just about to…" his voice trailed off. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Just thinking," she replied quietly.
"Okay…" Will was a bit worried about her. He knew Mary very well, and had never seen her so quiet and reflective. He seemed to have stumbled upon many new sides of her that he had not previously known existed. Something strange was going on. But Will knew when Mary didn't want to be bothered, and he could tell that now was one of those times.
"I'm going to the shops. I'll be back a bit after one o'clock." Mary knew about the Botanic Garden, but all the same he didn't want to tell her where his true destination was. He dashed off a quick note to his mum.
"All right, then. Have a good time. I'll be here when you get back." Mary smiled at him- a sad smile, and a little forced, but a smile all the same.
Will turned to leave, then paused. After a moment's hesitation, he came back and hugged Mary. "Thanks," he said. It was all they needed to say.
As they pulled away, Will saw Mary wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. But she put on a cheerful face and sent him out the door, leaving him wondering just what exactly was going on.
Lyra stared at her reflection. In her hands she held a faded green sleeveless blouse and a worn tartar skirt. She slowly lifted them to her face and breathed in the scent, feeling the memories swirl around her. She had thought that she'd be ready for Midsummer's Day. She had thought that she would be able to spend an hour with Will and then move on with her life. She had thought wrong.
She gradually donned the worn garments. As she pulled the blouse over her face, a scent hit her, as painful as an arrow. Will. She breathed in the smell. It was agonizing and blissful at the same time.
Lyra sank to the floor. She had tried to keep her emotions bottled up for so long. She had put on a brave face and made sure no one at St. Sophia's knew of the turbulence going on inside, and where had it gotten her? She was in even more pain than before, and she couldn't hide her feelings much longer.
Lyra looked in the mirror, at the sorry state her reflection was in. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. It grew and multiplied, and then, slowly, for the first time in a long time, Lyra really did cry.
Will stepped outside. His mind was buzzing with excitement and thoughts of Lyra. He fantasized of talking with her and of happy endings, of Pan and Kirjava wrestling playfully while he and Lyra kissed passionately…
The reality hit him like a bulldozer on a freeway. Today, he knew deep down, was the day that he would have to acknowledge, once and for all, that he would never again see Lyra until they died. There would be no happy ending.
Will sat on the step outside his house. His head spun. He had tried so hard to not let anyone see past his tough outer shell, but he was falling apart and his barrier was breaking down. He felt like a small schoolboy once again: lost, exposed, and vulnerable. Angry at himself and at the world, tears gathered in Will's eyes, threatening to spill over. He shook his head. He would not let himself cry.
But the tears paid no heed and overflowed anyway. Before he knew it, he was sobbing and shaking with all the grief in the world. Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, he thought bitterly. He wondered if that saying was true, or if he would have been better off if he had never met Lyra at all.
No! every particle in his body protested. Will knew they were right. It had been the adventure of a lifetime, and he was glad more than anything that it had happened, as much as it pained him now.
"Well, then," he said quietly.
Will stood and walked to the Botanic Gardens. His eyes were red and puffy, and every step of the way pained him, but he knew he had to do it. It was the only chance he would have all year, and he couldn't let Lyra down. It took a long time to reach the Garden and when he finally did he was exhausted to the bone. He was awakened, however, by the prospect of being with Lyra a little, even if he couldn't see her or talk to her.
He strolled along the fancier parts of the Garden until he came to a wooden seat under a spreading tree. He smiled; the tree had grown a little since he had last been there. Will settled himself on the bench. He tilted his head to the sky. "Lyra," he whispered softly.
When her eyes had dried enough to see out of them properly, Lyra rose and dabbed her red face with a handkerchief, trying to clear the horrible spots left by her tears. It was no use. It didn't really matter much anyway; she had no one to look pretty for. There was no point in primping, so why was she starting to do it?
Lyra shook her head, trying to clear the few smidgens of vanity in there, and walked out of the room. She began to head for the Botanic Garden. As an afterthought, she turned back and grabbed the still-ticking clock. She wasn't sure precisely why she wanted to take it, but something told her that it might be needed.
She left St. Sophia's with perhaps less caution than might be preferred, since there were still classes going on. Lyra didn't really know what would happen if she were caught and she didn't really care. Her mind was occupied elsewhere. Besides, she knew that she could talk her way out of almost anything.
Every step hurt her, but Lyra knew that she had to go. She wanted to, and also she didn't. She was afraid of facing the truth, that she would never see Will again, but she was also eager just to be with him as much as she could. An internal battle raged, but in the end, eagerness won out.
Finally she reached the bench and the tree. The tree was a little taller, she noted, and the leaves were greener. Smiling, Lyra seated herself on the bench and closed her eyes momentarily. After an instant's rest and reflection, she took out the clock and studied it. Whatever it was counting down to, there was not much time left. Only a few seconds, in fact. Lyra watched the last few seconds tick their way back to the number twelve, and then-
The clock stopped abruptly. In the distance all sorts of bell towers began to sound the midday bell: some low, some high, one fast and one slow, but each getting to the time eventually.
That was when everything around Lyra seemed to shift and change. The tree above her shimmered and twisted- sometimes appearing old and gnarled, sometimes young and sprightly. The very air she breathed appeared to have a different quality to it. The differences were so subtle that she could hardly see or feel them, yet they were there all the same. She found that she could perceive the changes much more easily if she didn't look at them directly. Only the bench under Lyra remained unaltered. And next to her on the bench another outline shimmered, nearly undetectable: a figure that looked almost like Will, and then nothing, Will again, and then someone else entirely. Lyra reeled in confusion. She stared at the clock. It had caused this, whatever it was.
She was thrust away from the bench and onto dirt ground that had not been there before. The dirt quickly changed back into grass. The world was spinning. Lyra cried out, to no avail. She found herself staggering away from the bench and the clock. She breathed in the air that smelt of-- traffic fumes? No, the fumes were gone now, replaced by the smell of salty ocean spray. There was no ocean near the Garden, nor was there traffic. Was this, then, a mixture of worlds? Was that what the clock was for, to create these blends between universes?
As swiftly as it had begun, the blend stopped. Lyra, lying on the ground, gasped for air. What was going on? She was so absorbed in her confusion that she didn't hear the sounds behind her for several moments.
"Lyra?" a voice called.
Lyra started. She knew that voice. She had heard it so many times- in her dreams and fantasies even more often than in real life.
"Is that you? Lyra?"
She turned. It was Will.
I leave you readers with a slight cliffhanger. Haha. Coming up next: Lyra and Will are finally reunited. Will it be the fairy tale they always expected it to be or just... strange? You'll have to wait to find out!
Thanks for reading!
TheSmartypants
