Lyra closed her eyes. Pan curled up in her lap, as she rested her head on the bench.
"It's been three years..." Pan whispered.
"Yeah..." Lyra replied softly. "It's been three years, but it doesn't hurt any less, does it?"
It was dusk on midsummers, and Lyra had faithfully carried out her promise to Will, coming to the bench in the botanic gardens, in her Oxford. She had been here since midday, reminiscing of the time she had spent with Will, though it seemed like mere moments after three years apart. Lyra sighed, a single tear dropping to her lap, then the material of her kilt was speckled with wet spots, the sky opening up, and crying along with the girl on the bench.
"Will..." she sobbed, " Why...Will..."
She furiously wiped at her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. Will wouldn't want her to cry, he wouldn't want her to be sad like this, he would want her to be happy...
It was no use, the tears wouldn't stop. The rain was becoming heavier now, and her hair plastered itself onto her face. She tucked the strands behind her ear, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the steady flow of tears streaming out of her eyes.
"Lyra, we should go back now," Pan said weakly, but Lyra didn't move. Pan didn't say anything, knowing Lyra would stay there until someone came for her. Neither girl nor daemon wanted to move, not when this was the closest they would ever get to their lovers.
Staring at the stumps on his right hand, Will sighed. Why was he like this? It had been three years since he had broken the knife, three years since he had left Lyra, yet every part of him clung onto his memories of the adventures he'd had with the girl he loved, every inch of his being wanting never to let go of them.
"Will, do you want to stay here a little while longer?" Kirjava asked him. Will wordlessly nodded his head, leaning back. His daemon climbed onto his shoulder, and nuzzled his neck affectionately.
A single raindrop fell from sky, and then another, and another, and soon the gentle pattering of rain could be heard around them. Will reached out, and imagined Lyra was next to him. He rested his hand on the wood, trying to remember how her touch felt when she traced patterns on the palm of his hand, how he lips tasted, of the little red fruit..
His hand felt warm, fingers laced his, and Lyra's voice filled his head,
"Will, I love you..."
"Lyra..." he whispered, savouring the sound of her name on his lips.
"Will..." she replied. "Will, I'm here..."
He looked up, and her face filled his eyes. She was sitting on the bench next to him, surrounded in a golden light.
"Lyra, how are you here?" he asked. Lyra just smiled and told him she didn't know. They stared into each other's eyes, Will caressing her cheek.
"Lyra, I've missed you..."
"I know, Will, I know."
Lyra buried her face into Will's shoulder, her wet hair spilling over his neck. Will buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent. Wordlessly, they looked up, and leant in. They melted into a kiss, Will's fingers running through Lyra's hair, her hands clenching his shirt, never wanting to let him go.