Some clarification: while this chapter is based around larger events from "The Amber Spyglass" (stuff that will obviously be adapted into the show, like Will rescuing Lyra and confronting Coulter), it's set squarely within the TV version of the narrative. That is to say, I think that some of the conversation they have in this chapter has already been covered by canonical conversations they've had in "The Amber Spyglass"-that's intentional. I'm into pure "speculation for season 3" mode now, as in "this conversation could feasibly appear in season 3 because they won't just copy and paste conversations from the books" (at least not that much lol). That said, I hope you enjoy!

During Season 3/"The Amber Spyglass"

"I never got a chance to thank you," Lyra said suddenly. Pan was soaring overhead in the form of a chimney swift, eager to stretch his wings after weeks of drug-induced torpor. They'd been sitting atop a boulder overlooking the salt marsh of whatever world Will had desperately sliced them all into. Whatever world they'd be trapped in until Iorek reforged the Knife. Will supposed there were worse places to be stranded. Apart from the bugs that wove listlessly through the marsh grass, it was a peaceful space. Utterly silent. Without even the gentle waves of Cittágazze's ocean.

"You don't need to," Will replied.

"I don't know how long she would've kept me there," Lyra said.

"This was already far too long." Will looked at her, dark eyebrows lowered. He surely looked furious, and he hoped Lyra understood that his rage was not directed at her. It hadn't entirely subsided, though, despite the fact that he finally had her back at his side. Seeing Lyra on the floor of that cave, her ferocity melted into a helpless stupor by the drug—for the first time, he'd wanted to hurt someone. To kill someone. A woman who could do that to her own child did not deserve the title of mother. A woman like that didn't deserve anything at all.

"But you got me out," Lyra said softly.

"Did you think I was just going to leave you?" Will asked, incredulous.

"You had the knife. You could've gone home. There's a war coming, Will, and nobody would've faulted you for saying you wanted no part of it."

Oh, Will remembered. She doesn't know.

"I did get to my father." Will's voice was tremulous. "But the Magisterium killed him."

"No," Lyra gasped. "Will…"

Her eyes welled up, face freely showing all the rage and pain he hadn't allowed himself to feel over the last few weeks. He loved this about her. Yes, she could be a prodigious liar when she wanted to be. But, for whatever reason, she'd never been able to hide herself from him. Unable to stop her lips from twitching up when he affirmed her, unable to un-set her jaw when they bickered, unable to squash the tears that sparked in her eyes when he'd snapped at her in their early days.

Almost without him realizing it, she had taken him into her arms. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, his nose poking through the little cascades of her hair. Will breathed her in, and Lyra's fingers stroked his shoulders, his neck, his back, and he felt like she was brushing away the weeks of loss and uncertainty and simply being without her.

"The war's real for me now. Personal," he whispered into her throat. She leaned her cheek against the top of his head. But Will allowed himself a just few more seconds in her embrace before mournfully detangling his body from hers. "And it's like I said before—this is our journey now."

Lyra nodded. Their hands were resting close to each other on the boulder and Will felt a small touch on his. Lyra's little finger was resting atop his. He smiled unabashedly.

Well, if she insisted.

He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles like he had that night in the cave in Cittágazze's world. He'd thought about that night a lot while she'd been gone. He remembered the warm weight of her head on his chest, the way every nerve in his hand seemed to be aglow, alive at the touch of hers. He'd breathed out her name then, relishing the way the sound brushed over his tongue. He had wanted to tell her all of it, while not knowing how to tell her any of it.

And maybe it was for the best that he hadn't clumsily poured his heart out then. They were in a war whose stakes seemed to grow by the hour. He couldn't risk alienating his best friend in the worlds.

"How'd the Knife break?" Lyra asked. Will groaned internally. This particular moment, their hands knitted together, his mind re-memorizing the scent of her hair—this was the moment she chose to ask him the hard-hitting question. But Will owed her the truth. He focused on the warmth of her skin and prayed to God that his answer wouldn't make her let him go.

"When you're cutting in and out of worlds, you have to—"

"Become the tip of the Knife," Lyra finished for him.

"Exactly," Will said. "You've got to be completely focused, or else you won't be able to see the strings. You won't be able to make a cut."

"So you lost focus?"

"It's more than that. You've seen me practice with it. Usually, if your mind's not in the right place, the Knife'll just slip. It's like...if you were trying to hold a piece of melting ice against a wall. If you relax, it'll slip. And the longer you take, the easier it is for your mind to wander, like the ice melting smaller and smaller because of your hand. It becomes harder to keep it pressed to the wall." Lyra was staring intently at him through all this long-winded explanation. He was encouraged, partially. When she looked at him like that, brown eyes full of curiosity and compassion and worry, it became easy to think that perhaps this mountain of context and rationalization was unnecessary.

"Your mother," Will continued, and he felt her hand tense in his. He didn't even have to ask why.

"Mrs. Coulter," he rephrased. "I looked at her as I was trying to cut us out. And she reminded me of my mum."

Will thought that Lyra would've been angry with him, equating Mrs. Coulter with his mother, who was as protective and caring as she could muster in her current state. Instead, Lyra hummed her assent and told him gently, "She's good at pretending. She'll be loving and kind and good when it suits her. And when it doesn't…"

"She seems like a monster," Will said emphatically.

"I wish," Lyra's voice broke. "I wish I could disagree. But the Knife..."

"I suppose there are certain things the knife can't cut," Will said, and now his voice was cracking too.

"Your love for your mother," Lyra mercifully supplied. Will nodded. She brought her other hand over, and now his hand was cocooned in hers. He wanted to freeze this moment, scoop up the sensations in one of the jars he and his father used to collect fireflies when he was a little boy.

"I promise you'll get back to her, Will," Lyra said, her face set in the way that Will loved. Her jaw could've been a sculpture, the brown of her eyes seemed to harden into quartz.

He couldn't help but laugh at her resolve. Just hours after escaping drugged imprisonment by the woman who had given birth to her, she seemed ready to do anything to get him back to his world. If he had the means, he would've loved to get her a cheeseburger before they tackled any remaining world-saving they had to do. Surely she was famished.

But, currently, resolve was the only thing they seemed to have a surplus of.

Will reached up and tucked her hair back, his finger skating softly over the top of her ear. "You're gonna bring me back to my world, yeah? Ride the bus with me back to my house?"

"If that's what you want," she said seriously.

"It's what I want," Will replied. She leaned into him yet again, and they stayed that way for a long time.

I'm gonna be honest, yall. This chapter's kind of a mess. Very top-heavy with an abrupt ending. For some reason I'm finding myself unable to write really robust chapters for this fic. However, hopefully there are some things in here you'll still be able to scream at me in the comments about! Thanks so much for reading :) Your support is fuel.

Next chapter will be unadulterated fluff set towards "the end of season 3". And I can only have them side-hug and hold hands for so long...I hope they don't trip and Fall :)