Hey!

I got this idea at like 2 am last night and spent my very limited free time today writing this story.
It's just fluff, and probably not the best, but... give me advice and it'll get better.

The His Dark Materials fandom has been kind of dead lately, so I figured I'd post something.

Book and show fans alike can enjoy this.

If you've read the books, I hope this little fic, like every other piece of Will and Lyra fluff, helps to heal your heart.

And now I'll step back so you can enjoy.

"Roger!" she screamed as Lord Asriel locked him in the cage. "ROGER!"

"Lyra!" he called back. "Lyra, help!"

"Father!" she screamed. "Please! Don't do this!"

"You don't understand," he said, shoving Salcilia into the other cage. "This is beyond your grasp. You're just a child - this is a matter of the safety of the world. And not just this world, but worlds beyond it."

"No, you don't understand. You can't take away Roger's daemon! It en't right! You can't do something so awful, so- so cruel to a child! That's evil!"

"It's not evil if it's for the benefit of the world. This is war, Lyra. There will be casualties."

"Roger's not involved! And if you take away Salcilia, they'll- they'll die! Are you so evil that you'd kill a child?"

"For the good of the world, Lyra, I'd do anything."

"He's my best friend! I'm your daughter!"

"This child," he spat, finally looking Lyra in the eye and pointing at Roger, "is insignificant. He does not matter. I don't care if he's your best friend. I wouldn't kill you, but him? I don't care if he dies. It's for the good of the world, Lyra. The good of the worlds."

"Then you en't my father," she hissed.

In response, he made the cut.

"ROGER!" Lyra yelled, sitting up. But she wasn't in Svalbard. She was safe and warm in her bed in Cittagazze.

That didn't change the fact that Roger was dead.

She pulled the blankets to her chin and whimpered. It was all her fault. She'd been so stupid and now Roger was dead. Poor, sweet Roger who she'd gone all the way to Bolvanger to rescue. She'd tried so hard to save him from intercision, only to lead him straight into a trap- and a much more dangerous and deadly intercision.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She needed some fresh air. She slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed over to the window. Slowly and carefully, so as not to make any noise, she pushed the window open. But her efforts were futile, and she cringed at the way the sound echoed through the empty streets.

She hoped she hadn't woken Will up.

Will. Another thing that was her fault. If she had been more careful, Boreal wouldn't have stolen her alethiometer. And if she hadn't lost the Alethiometer, they wouldn't have had to retrieve the Subtle Knife from the Torri Degli Angeli. And Will wouldn't have lost his fingers.

He'd acted so brave about it, but she could tell it was worse than he was letting on. Losing two fingers is no small injury. It looked horrific, and Will must have been in excruciating pain.

He might still be in excruciating pain.

Lyra bit her lip. Maybe he couldn't sleep, either. She should probably check on him.

She padded over to his room and was amazed to find him sound asleep, his good hand cradling his bad one close to his chest. She sat down next to him on the bed and ferret Pan jumped up to sit beside her.

He was so peaceful. His handsome features looked gentler in the dim moonlight. His whole body was more relaxed. Even his injured hand looked almost normal in his serene sleeping state. But even like this, he was still undoubtedly her Will. Just this short time with Will had taught her so much. Bravery, she'd learned, was not synonymous with recklessness. Will was incredibly brave, pushing through his horrific - and honestly disgusting - injury. And yet he was so careful about everything. He wasn't one to run on the rooftops.

What an image that was- Will, running on the roofs of Jordan College, trying in vain to catch up with Lyra.

Lyra, showing him the right way, telling him to loosen up a bit, because he wasn't getting anywhere being so careful.

Lyra felt a light pressure on her hand, and looked down to find Will holding it with his good one. She blushed and carefully extricated her hand from his, giggling to herself when a little frown appeared on his face.

She shivered and yawned. The warm bed with its soft blanket was tempting. Very tempting.

"How would you explain that in the morning?" Pan whispered.

"But I don't want to go back up!" she whisper-whined, pouting at her daemon. He rolled his eyes and stretched before lying down in cat form.

Giving in to temptation, she laid down next to Will and fell asleep.

Lyra woke up slowly the next morning feeling pleasantly warm. She felt safe and comfortable just where she was, and she didn't want to get up just yet, so she didn't.

But when she heard the sharp intake of breath near her ear, her eyelids flew open and she realized just why she was so warm: her body was curled up to Will's chest.

Oh, god.

What was she thinking last night? She should have gone straight back to bed once she knew Will was okay. She'd been so stupid.

In her defense, it had seemed like a fine idea at night when she was drowsy and upset from her nightmares. But things were looking different in the light of day.

"Lyra?" Will murmured into her ear. There was nowhere to hide when she was lying right next to him. "Lyra, you awake?"

"No," she mumbled.

He chuckled. "Really? You aren't? Well, then, I'd better not wake you up." He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair.

Lyra's face went hot and she squeaked in embarrassment.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" she insisted, pushing herself away from him and attempting to sit up.

He laughed again. Then he, too, blushed at their position, with Lyra curled up close to him while he had his arm around her.

"So, um…"

"Sorry," she whispered, looking down.

"It's okay!" He reassured her quickly. "I just, uh…"

They were silent for a bit, neither knowing what to say to the other. Lyra felt a strong need to explain herself, but she didn't know how to do that without sounding very awkward. Will was curious as to why she had crawled into bed last night, but mostly he was curious about his own feelings: what was that warm tingly feeling he got when he was holding Lyra like that?

"I- I had a nightmare," Lyra admitted, still refusing to meet Will's eyes. He felt a rush of protectiveness for her.

"A nightmare? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I just couldn't sleep, and I came down to check on you, and... yeah. Yeah."

"You're sure that you're fine?" he asked again, just to be sure that his Lyra was okay.

(His Lyra? Since when was she his Lyra?)

She just scowled at him. "I en't delicate, you know," she grumbled. "You don't need to take care of me."

Will sighed and looked down, biting his lip.

"It's all I know how to do."

There was another one of those awkward silences, with Will cursing himself because he hated when they were like this, and Lyra searching desperately for something to say.

"Your mother?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded.

She paused for a moment, then, head bowed, whispered, "you can go back."

"What?" he asked, with genuine confusion on his face.

"If you need to go back, to- to your mother, I would totally understand, if that's what you need to do, I-"

"Lyra!" he exclaimed, and she looked up at him again. "I'm not going anywhere. My mother is safe where she is, and we make a great team! I wouldn't leave you behind for anything. Or, I guess, in this case, leave you ahead, to do things by yourself."

"I can manage!" she insisted. "I can do it by myself!"

"But you don't need to."

She looked into his eyes for a while, as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. He just nodded and smiled like, everything's going to be okay. The corners of her eyes began to dampen. Her lip trembled a bit.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered, then took a shaky breath. "Thank you, Will."

"Of course," he said.

One fat tear fell from her left eye and traced a path down her cheek. Will wiped it away with his thumb, but blushed and turned away when he realized what he'd done.

Lyra sniffled again.

"It was about Roger," she said.

"What?" Will asked, looking at her again.

"The nightmare," she clarified. "It- it was about Roger."

"Your best friend?"

She nodded.

"The one who… the one who died?"

She nodded again.

"What happened in the dream?"

She sat up and took a deep breath. "My father. He was about to, you know…" she looked into Will's eyes and gulped. "Sever Roger, a-and I was telling him to stop, and-" another tear fell down her face. "-he said that it was fine to kill Roger, because it was for the good of the worlds, and I was just a child so I couldn't understand, and-" she couldn't speak anymore, and just looked up at Will with helpless, grieving eyes.

Will took her into his arms and she began to sob. He felt so helpless, watching her cry and not knowing what he could do about it.

But he stroked her hair and rubbed circles on her back and whispered into her ear, hey, it's okay, it'll be okay.

"But it en't okay!" she wailed into his chest. "My best friend is dead because I'm stupid and I trust all the wrong people! My mother, my father, everyone I've ever trusted was just… messing with me! Using me! How am I supposed to trust anyone when everyone seems to have good intentions, but really they're just… evil! Why is everyone so evil?"

"Not everyone's evil," Will said soothingly, continuing to stroke her hair. "I'm sure you can think of… three people who you can trust. Three people who aren't evil."

"There en't anyone I can trust!"

"You could trust Roger, couldn't you?"

She was silent for a bit, before mumbling "Yeah, I s'pose I could…"

"And who else?"

"There was-" she gulped. "Lee. Lee Scoresby. He was like my father. Like a real father, I mean. Not- not like Lord Asriel."

"Okay. Who else?"

"Iorek Byrnison. The bear king."

"Anyone else? I'm sure there's someone else you can trust."

"Well, I dunno…"

"There's got to be someone else."

"I- well, I guess… I guess there's you." She mumbled her words, but he heard her loud and clear. He felt relieved and honored and… almost giddy. Giddy that this amazing girl in front of him, who had told him that she couldn't trust anyone and everyone was evil, felt that she could trust him. A smile lit up his features and a blush crept across his face.

Why did he feel this way?

"Will?" he schooled his expression as Lyra looked up.

"Uh- er- um… thank you, Lyra. For trusting me, I mean."

"Of course I trust you, Will!" she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And if he really thought about it, it was clear: in the way that she'd talk about her past with him, and in the way that she'd revealed her insecurities, and in the way that she'd crawled into his bed last night when she couldn't sleep.

"That's quite a change from when we first met," he muttered, and she laughed.

"It sure is."