Closure
Closure Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this novel (aside from the storyline). Notes: This is a short story, don't expects a whole novel ;) I just wanted to give His Dark Materials readers a little closure. We were left with a depressing ending. Author's Note: Please review; I take suggestions seriously. Thanks. Fact: Parry means to dodge. 

Will's Oxford, Midsummer's Night, Midnight

Will Parry sat on a deserted park bench, staring into nothingness and stroking Kirjava's furry back. He looked into the sad cat-eyes of his dæmon and felt his heart pang. He missed Lyra just as much as Kirjava missed Pantalaimon.

The knife had been broken over seventy years ago, but Will wished with all his being that he hadn't destroyed his only way to his one true love. As he thought about her, tears flowed down his cheeks, and fell onto the park bench. She was sitting next to him in her own world, but neither could see or touch the other. He lay down on the bench, as he had done seventy two times before, and pressed his cheek to the near-ancient wood. Maybe, on the other side, Lyra was doing the same.

Will had married years after he and Lyra parted, but his heart had never really healed from the separation. His wife had never really filled the void that opened when the gap between their two worlds sealed. It was not fair to his wife to mention Lyra, or anything having to do with her, so he never did. He kept his sorrow bottled up inside.

Will only had one child, who was born without a dæmon. This saddened Will, because he would have liked to pass that down. Will's only friend he could talk to, and whom Kirjava could feel at home with, was Dr. Mary Malone. Mary always would offer him comfort, and he would do the same for her.

Mary passed on when will was fifty-five. He and Mary's children held a service in the park, by the bench on Midsummer's Night, at Midnight. No one knew why, but Will had promised Mary that he would do this for her, so that Will, Lyra and Mary could be together one last time.

When will was sixty-three, his wife passed away. He grieved bitterly; she was the only human he had ever loved deeply, aside from Lyra. Soon after his wife's death, Will fell into solitude with Kirjava and only left his house to buy food or visit the park bench on Midsummer's Night.

Now, Will lay on the bench, feeling the worn wood against his wrinkled cheek and humming a sad melody, while Kirjava curled up into a ball beside him. "I love you, Kirjava." Will whispered.

"I love you too." Was the soft reply.

Slowly, Will drifted into an endless sleep, and Kirjava disappeared into the night air.

***

Lyra's Oxford, Midsummer's Night, Midnight

Lyra Silvertongue lay down on the worn park bench, like she had done so many times before, mourning the loss of her one true love and her friend. Pantalaimon was wrapped around her neck, whimpering. Lyra always missed Will and Mary the most on Midsummer's Night. She longed to reach out and be held by him, like she had over seventy years before.

"That was then, this is now." She reminded herself, bitterly. Pan howled in his ermine form and whispered Kirjava's name into the air. Lyra was not the only mourner on the bench.

Lyra had come to the bench every year, never faltering. Even through her husband had questioned her many times, she never told him about Will, or the adventures they had shared. Soon, her husband believed that she was just mourning the death of a family member.

Lyra's only child, a daughter, had followed her one night, to see what her mother did at the park. There, she saw nothing but Lyra lying on the bench, weeping with Pantalaimon curled up next to her.

Lyra's husband passed on when Lyra was sixty-five. She never really recovered from the death of yet another lover. Lyra still went to the park bench, though, to be close to Will.

As Lyra and Pan became even weaker, Lyra put her arms around Pa's neck and kissed him. "I will always love you, Pan." She whispered into the ermine's ear.

"I love you too, Lyra." Pan whispered back, before disappearing into the night.

***

When Lyra entered Death, she saw Gracious Wings talking to another spirit. It was a boy of about thirteen and he had his back to her, but something was altogether too familiar. "Will!" Lyra shouted, running towards him. He turned around and smiled as he saw his lover running at him. They embraced as the two young adults they had been when they parted, seventy-two years before. 

Will had changed, as had Lyra. The scar she held on her forhead from Gracious Wings's claws had disappeared, and Will had all of his fingers again. Gracious Wings turned to both of them.

"Do you two have a story to share with me?" she winked and led them down into the tunnel that would lead to the world of the mulefa.

"I think we might have a few." Will said as he and Lyra began telling their stories from the moment Lyra and Pan had snuck into the Retiring Room at Jordan College.

Soon, they reached the window and Gracious Wings gave them each a kiss on the cheek. "Until I meet you in Death." She said as the two lovers went to join their dæmons and friends as simple atoms in the air.