A/N: I think I've pretty much planned out the whole story...except for the ending. It kind of seems to crash at the end. I'll work on that. It's not very close anyways...but this chapter is a Lyra chapter. Thanks so much, to all the people who reviewed, by the way! I felt so happy that people took the time to write to me. Also, I don't remember the images and their meanings, so I had to make up my own. This, obviously, took a long time. I hope you don't mind that I'm not Philip Pullman, and thus cannot make it exactly like the His Dark Materials Trilogy symbols.


Lyra flopped on her bed, exhausted after the long graduation ceremony she had been forced to attend. Granted, it was on her behalf...but still. Seven hours in a body-hugging silk dress, wearing high heels and practically being forced to smile at people the entire time was not something she had been looking forward to, and she was definitely glad it was over. After the first two hours, even Pan, who usually stuck close to her, had slunk off, muttering something about feeling faint. He had been looking a bit under the weather recently, Lyra had noticed, but he hadn't really been around long enough for her to find out what was the matter.

A knock on Lyra's door made her bolt upright; she was unwilling to be chastised by Mrs. Farthingsworth for lying so ungracefully on the bed in an expensive silk dress. Sure enough, it was Mrs. Farthingsworth.

"Lyra, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Farthingsworth?"

"May I come in?"

"Of course." The cheerful older woman opened the door to reveal a stout, matronly figure dressed as a head maid should. Surely Mrs. Farthingsworth is the most elegant of head maids, or rather ladies-in-waiting, as she likes to be called, Lyra thought vaguely to herself. Mrs. Farthingsworth's poodle trotted in beside the woman.

"You haven't changed out of the dress," Mrs. Farthingsworth noted in disapproval.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't say sorry, dear, just change," Mrs. Farthingsworth said briskly. Lyra smiled. Despite the matron's firm attitude, Lyra loved her dearly and respected her as well.

Lyra began changing into a cotton nightdress, as Mrs. Farthingsworth hung up her gown. She pulled pins out of her hair, and it fell down to her waist. She picked up a brush and started to comb it.

"Where's Pantalaimon?" Mrs. Farthingsworth asked suddenly.

"Sorry?" Lyra said, startled. Mrs. Farthingsworth repeated the question.

"Oh...he's just...outside...on the roof...getting some air," Lyra said slowly. Now that she thought of it, she didn't know where he had gone. She was grateful that the window was open to make her excuse plausible; for some reason, she thought it best that she didn't advertise that she and Pantalaimon could be further apart than most people and their dæmons.

"Oh," Mrs. Farthingsworth said. "Percival had just wondered where he had gone." The poodle by her side nodded in agreement.

"Ah," Lyra said vaguely. She tried to stifle a yawn, so as to not be impolite, but the matron saw it quickly.

"We should be going now. I'm sorry I didn't notice how tired you were, dear. I will see you tomorrow. Good night." She shuffled out of the room after hanging up Lyra's dress in her closet.

"Good night," Lyra called after her. She brushed her teeth and crawled into bed, wondering where in the world Pan was. She decided to ask the alethiometer; after all, that was what it was for, right? Now that she had graduated, she was allowed to use the alethiometer to do whatever she wanted, not just what others wanted her to do. This was the power that she had been looking forward to the most.

She took a key from around her neck and leaned over to the nightstand beside her bed. Carefully opening the top drawer, she felt the upper portion for a hidden spring. Once locating it, she pushed it, and a keyhole popped out. She slipped the tiny key into it and unlocked the secret drawer. She reached in and pulled out a velvet bag, and from it, removed the alethiometer. She held it carefully in her hands; she would never get tired of looking at the intricate little images on its face.

Concentrating hard, she first asked, Where is Pan? The needle spun around and around, not landing on any of the images. Puzzled, she stopped her concentration, and the needle stopped spinning. The alethiometer would not tell her where he was!

Perhaps she had lost her skill to use it once again. But...she had just completed the arduous process of relearning it. Now she understood it, how it worked, each level of meaning of the answer, why it worked the way it did. She could not have forgotten. But just in case, she asked a question she knew the answer to. What color is my nightgown? The alethiometer's needle spun around, landing on the water droplet. Blue. That was correct. So it wasn't her fault.

Lyra returned to her original question. But after several failed attempts to find her dæmon, she gave up and asked a different question. Is he safe? He was. Will he come back soon? She'd see him in two hours if she were still awake.

Satisfied with the response from the alethiometer, she asked a question she had been waiting to know the answer to for four long years. Where is Will? The needle spun around and around, but Lyra did not have to concentrate hard to know the answer. He is safe in his world in a house he and his mother bought four years ago. Of course. What a question. Lyra laughed at herself.

Now for a more serious question. How is Will doing? This time, it took all of Lyra's concentration to understand the whirling needle. It seemed to be very excited, and it spewed out information almost faster than Lyra could understand. Will's mother died a week ago. He was extremely distraught, but bore it as a man should. His world is falling apart around him, and he is beginning to reassess his life, wondering whether or not he should have left you. He believes that all he loves have been taken away from him...his father, his mother, you...He wonders about Kirjava and why she is away so much, especially in one of his greatest hours of need. He has lost a lot of weight recently, having been put through more stress than most men when they die. He misses you very much and lives for your meeting in two days. If not for Mary...

Lyra would never find out what would have happened if not for Mary. The poor darling! What was Kirjava thinking when she left him? And where was Pan? If only Lyra could be there to comfort him, to stroke his unruly hair and caress his angular face....If only they could be together again, even if it were only for a day...if only...

Lyra fell asleep with dreams of Will and her "If Only"s. Needless to say, while they were pleasant thoughts, her heart was anguished throughout the night, for deep down in Lyra's subconscious, she knew that it could never be.

Two hours later, a red-gold pine marten crawled through the window and settled on Lyra's bed. If someone had seen it just then, he would have noted that though the pine marten's fur was becoming ratty and lacked the luster that it had once had, it was still more beautiful than any other pine marten in the best of health, for what it lacked in physical beauty, it made up for with the strange, heavenly glow that shrouded it.


A/N: Sorry! It's shorter than the other two chapters by quite a bit...but I know what the rest of the story's going to be like! And I might post another one tomorrow, if I get it written...I think two more chapters until Midsummer's Eve. Now to thank my reviewers.

million-tears

I'm really glad you like it! And thought it was touching. I was worried that people would think it was very depressing and all and decide not to read it. Congratulations on being the first reviewer!

Becca the Great

Basically, I want to tell you the same thing as million-tears. You can't really see Will crying, can you? I hope I didn't over do it and make it seem unrealistic.

FeltonLover101

Thanks for putting me on your Favorites List!

AislinnStar

Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it!

Alison

I have noticed that I do tend to ramble a lot...just in general. Thanks for pointing that out. I'm trying to get out of the habit, but the problem is, sometimes I can't tell when I'm rambling. Also, the last funeral I went to was when I was about four years old, so I don't remember very much, so I wouldn't really know if people clap or not, or what a eulogy sounds like. And I couldn't find anything to copy off the internet...so...I'm trying to walk a fine line between realistic and fantasy. Because His Dark Materials maintains a fantastic world, while keeping it believable. I think I'm going to end up transcending that line and passing into the fantastic world...so bear with me please. Thanks very much for the suggestions!

fuzzi fox

Thank you so much for reviewing both chapters! TWO reviews! I was so excited. I'm glad you liked the second chapter...I wrote it when I was half asleep (like right now, only more so because right now it's only 12:30 AM...) so I was afraid it wouldn't make any sense when I was awake. But I think my auto-pilot's doing just fine. As I've told Alison, my story's probably going to become more fantastic so that Lyra and Will can get together without some sort of brilliant ideas that could only come from the master himself.

(By the way, when I say fantastic, I don't mean great. That would be pretty pompous, for the way I'm using it. I mean fantastic. As in fantasy-ish.) Hope you review this chapter too! And this is the first time I've tried writing to individual reviewers, so I'm testing this out...