A/N: Sorry it's been so long. The past couple of months have been rather hard, for a variety of reasons. And now I have college to contend to. But now, I'm in the mood for this chapter, so, here it is.

Oh, and for those of you who found (or didn't find) the clues: the song was Cryin' by Aerosmith.

HOPE

The door opened slowly, and Diana turned, scraping her chair against the floor. Lyra stood there, looking as tired as ever, holding her hand to her stomach. But as soon as she saw Diana looking at her, she straightened and quickly moved her hand to the strap across her shoulder.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," Diana replied, having given up trying to get Lyra to tell her anything.

Gently, Lyra unslung her bag and laid it on her bed. Diana could see a stirring bulge within, which she assumed to be Pan.

Diana turned back to her homework before her as Lyra began to undress.

"Did you make any progress?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"With the alethiometer, I mean."

In response, Diana could sense Lyra stiffen. Maybe I shouldn't have said that... She thought.

"Sort of..." Lyra's voice was soft and harsh all at once. "Listen, I'm dead tired, I'm just going to go to bed, Okay?"

Sighing, Diana shrugged, "Sure."

Still staring at her papers, Diana heard the shuffling of sheets and creaking mattress, followed by the gentle nuzzling of Lyra's daemon against her neck. And so completed the day's ritual; Lyra would awake in the early morning, watch the sun rise, then go and study alone or with Dame Hanna, she would eat alone at meal times, and in class, she would stay quiet, daydreaming. Finally, when she did stop her studying, she went right to sleep.

After several long minuets, Felis asked quietly, "What does she dream about, that she spends so much time dreaming, day and night?"

"We may never know, we may never know..."

Briinngg! Briinngg! Briinngg!

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm coming," Mary muttered quietly as she checked herself once more in the mirror. Why am I acting so... giddy? Its just Oliver, for crying out loud!

Briinngg!

"Okay, okay," with one final useless brush of her hair, Mary turned and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mary," Oliver said, standing on the porch. Mary noticed in a glance a light sports jacket had replaced his usual duster, and his hair, though usually neatly pulled back, seemed even nicer now, though it was still held only in a ponytail.

"Oliver! Oh, do come in!" Mary said a bit hurriedly.

"Thank you," he smiled at her kindly.

"So, is this you're date?"

They both looked up to find Elaine standing in the hallway, a mischievous grin on her lips.

"Elaine!" Mary gasped, fully embarrassed, as her flaming blush clearly showed.

Elaine proceeded to ignore her as she walked up to Oliver, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and greeted him warmly, "It's a pleasure, Dr. Payne, to have you in our home."

Oliver, who at first looked a bit off-put, gathered himself quickly and smiled, "Thank you, and the name is Oliver, by the way."

"Of coarse."

Mary, meanwhile was agape at Elaine's attitude toward the whole thing, Oliver isn't my date

Meanwhile, Oliver had moved out of the door way and into the hallway, while Elaine was taking his coat.

"Elaine, no, I should do that, you go and sit down."

"Oh, posh," she replied, "If you've forgotten, I'm still the woman of the house, by both age and ownership, so I can do as I bloody well please."

Mary and Oliver looked at her with wide eyes, Mary in shock, and Oliver with amusement.

"Mary, I thought you said she was feeling under the weather!" he said with a smile.

"Well, I am," Elaine replied, "but that doesn't mean I can't tease two young people like your selves, now does it?"

Mary sighed in resignation, "Fine, why don't you... entertain Oliver, while I go get Will."

Elaine nodded, and guided Oliver to the living room as she called over her shoulder, "He's in a 'mood' today, so I doubt he'll come!"

Oh, no, Mary thought as she climbed the stairs, He's not getting away with brooding like that forever...

Opening the door to Will's room, Mary was prepared to give Will a verbal thrashing. But that changed rather quickly as she found her self looking down at the boy, his head bent over his desk, his hair masking his eyes.

"Will..."

"I'm not going," his tone of finality was emphasized by Kijava's quite growl.

"Look Will, all I'm asking is..."

But she didn't get any further, as the full weight of the boy's presence was flung at her in a single glare. She knew that Will had stared down Iorek, that the witch queens feared to look into his eyes, but she never had the brunt of that will thrown at her... until now.

"I'm not going," he said once more.

"All right," Mary murmured, closing the door behind her.

As the door closed, a sob escaped his lips. Another followed close behind.

"Why? Why? Why, why, why?" he cried softly, to no one in particular.

But an answer was given, nonetheless, for Will was never alone.

"Because," came Kirjava's voice as he felt her soft fir against his skin.

"Because..."

And the world slowly faded as Will fell into the world of sleep.

The sky was a glorious golden, as if someone had painted it the hues of molten metal and swaying wheat. The sight took Will's breath away. He just stood there, staring at the setting sun, feeling the breeze in the grass at his feet. Through his peripheral vision, he saw that he was standing in a large field, and his eyes could just barely catch the darkening sky behind.

Something about this place calmed him... he could tell that it was a dream, but there was still some kind of power here, some kind of magic that wiped away all the anger and depression that had been building within him. Now that he looked back, he could see how foolish it was to brood as he had. Turning back to the world around him, Will's thoughts turned to the cause of his pain...

"Lyra would love to see this..." Will thought allowed.

"I do."

Her voice was clear and real, just behind him to his left. His heart swelled as he turned to face her.

In all his life, Will had never seen anything so beautiful. Lyra stood there, clothed in the green blouse and skirt which she wore all those many months ago, but she looked as if she were a queen, bathed in the light from the setting sun behind him, and the waxing gibbous moon above. Neither her mother, nor the witches could match her for beauty now.

She smiled at him, and moved slowly closer. Where, minuets before, Will would have ran into her arms, or collapsed crying, not believing it, now, he took it in stride, and wrapped his arms around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. This place was indeed magical.

He could feel her arms across his back, hear her steady breath upon his neck, and smell her strawberry hair, just like that night so long ago...

"It's just a dream, isn't it, Will?" Her voice was calm, accepting.

"Yes."

"But it's so real, maybe, just maybe..."

"This is the dreaming that Xaphania told us about?" he finished for her with a smile.

Stepping back so as to look into her eyes, Will answered, "Yes, I think it is."

"It's been so hard Will, with out you."

"I know, my love," Will replied, "I have never been the same... I don't think I have the strength to live without you."

Will could see a smile on Lyra's lips as she took his hand into hers and guided to down the earth.

"Maybe I can give you something else, then," she said while she caressed her belly gently.

Neither noticed the figure high above them, shining in the double light of the sun and moon, her form seeming to shift and merge with the sky and celestial bodies which were her in form and soul.

Yewande looked down at her daughter, and smiled.

"Tell him now, my love," she whispered, "for you will not see him till the Samhain harvest come and the sacrifice be made... he will need your strength, my daughter."

The meal was largely finished; three sets of plates lay on the table with only crumbs and excess gravy on their surfaces, giving evidence to the fine quality of the food. A fourth plate lay untouched next to an empty glass and neatly place set of silverware.

Elaine sat to Mary's right, her head in her hand, while Mary sat back, her attention across the table, listening to Oliver's story intriguing story.

"... So I was able to convince him to let me have a go on the wheel. And I can tell you, I thought I was pretty hot stuff, but when I was done he looked at me and said, 'what is this supposed to be, shit?'"

Laughter erupted from all at the table, the but quickly stopped when Elaine began coughing into her napkin. Worriedly, Mary moved to help her, but Elaine merely smiled placidly.

"Mary," she said with laughter still in her eyes, "I never knew your boss was such a jack of all trades!"

Mary couldn't think of anything but laughter at that point. I think I drank just a little to much wine... she thought.

When she was finally able to speak, Mary replied, "Now I wouldn't say that. Oliver may have a brilliant mind, but his artistic side is a little...lacking."

At this Oliver's expression became hurt, but the blush from the wine kind of ruined any chance at sympathy that he might have been aiming for.

"What?" he said in mock shock, "Now, excuse me, Mary, but have you ever worked on a potter's wheel? No, I didn't think so. What about a paint studio? Or blacksmith shop? I think not."

At the mention of blacksmith, any evidence of the wine disappeared from Elaine's face as she looked intently at the man sitting to her left.

"You're a blacksmith?" she asked, leaning closer to him intently.

Oliver seemed to be a little unnerved by her intensity, and hesitantly replied, "Not per se, really, but I did spend some time studying antique weapons in Spain, and part of my thesis project was to restore a 18th century blade, so I have had some experience, yes."

"Really?" Elaine asked, cocking her head to the side, as if listening to someone whisper in her ear, "How...interesting"

Mary and Oliver just stared at her, both utterly confused, but Mary's gaze held something else, worry and just a hint of ...suspicion.

Unknown to all of them, except perhaps Elaine, a figure stood in the corner, his broad shoulders clearly displaying his strength and power, while his transparency—nearly invisibility—and the huge feathered wings that encased him clearly stated his angelic status.

"That's it, my Sweetheart," he whispered, with pride in his voice, "listen to the Eoghanhe'll guide you home."

Please Review! And again, sorry it took me so long to update.