It was so early when Lyra woke up that it was only just getting light, but she got up anyway, wanting to set off as soon as possible. Assessing her face in the mirror, she noticed that in the days it had taken her to travel here the cuts and bruises had healed somewhat. Still, she would've liked to look prettier for her first meeting with Will, if and when she was lucky enough to find him. She did what she could - showered, brushed her hair meticulously, and pulled on the black and white checked dress and a pair of tights. She applied the last of Ionides's salve to her broken hand and winced in pain, dreading to think how much it would hurt now she had ran out.

As soon as she was ready, she left for the station and boarded the first train for Oxford.

Once she arrived, she didn't really know where to begin. She could go to Mary's university, she thought at first. But then she remembered that she had lost her job there, so she just wandered around a little, trying to get her bearings.

She found herself walking towards the Botanic Gardens without really thinking about it. It wasn't Midsummer's day, so she knew Will wouldn't be there, but she needed to be somewhere she could feel close to him. She needed to know he existed. How convenient it would be if it was Midsummer's day, she thought. Like many of her thoughts, this was quickly followed by a more panicked one and a jolt in her stomach - what if he didn't even come here on Midsummer's day anymore? What if he was happy here without her, she now just a fond but irrelevant memory? Of course she wanted for him to have been happy here without her, but if he had forgotten about her whilst she still spent every day longing for him, her heart would break.

Soon, she passed through the ornate gate at the entrance and followed the familiar path through the flowers and trees until she was standing in front of the bench where she had last seen Will. The bench which, in her world, she frequented more than she would care to admit. Finally, she was standing somewhere he had stood. Even if he didn't come here anymore, he had at one time. Will had been here. She sat down and Pan climbed out of her bag and into the front of her coat where he could snuggle against her chest but still remain mostly out of sight.

"Lyra, look," he whispered.

She followed his gaze to a little carving on the bench near her shoulder.

W & L

She touched it gently and found it seemed to have been carved again and again, as though each time it had faded through weather or age, it had been etched back into clarity. The image of Will coming here, year after year, re-carving their initials, was enough to tip her over the edge. Overcome with emotion, with exhaustion after her journey, with joy at finally knowing for certain she was in the right universe, with fear that despite this, she would never find Will, she put her head into her hands and wept. Her heart ached. She was so close to him, just not close enough.

After a couple of minutes she calmed down, breathing deeply.

"Excuse me, are you ok?" A hesitant voice asked from a metre or so in front of her. She took her head out of her hands and wiped her tears, embarrassed to be crying so much that a stranger had felt the need to check on her.

"Oh - yes I'm fine - Sorry," She replied, keeping her gaze down in embarrassment, hoping the person would just leave her alone.

"L-Lyra?" The voice came again. She froze. That voice. Saying her name. That voice saying her name was something she had imagined countless times. She heard it whenever there was silence, she heard it every night as she fell asleep. It was different, it was deeper, but it was that voice. His voice. But it couldn't be be - she'd only just arrived in Oxford. It couldn't have been that easy.

She looked up.

"Will?" Shakily, she got to her feet, Pan jumping out of her coat onto the ground, and looked into the face of the boy - no, man - she had been searching for. He was taller and had the shadow of a beard. His face was a little thinner, his jaw more squared. He was beautiful. He stood, looking at her, his eyes wide with shock, and simply shook his head in disbelief. Behind him, a cat the colour of midnight emerged cautiously from the bushes.

"Lyra." Will said again quietly, this time not a question but a statement. The two stared at each other, unmoving for what felt like an eternity, until Lyra broke out of her trance.

"Will!" She cried, launching herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck so hard he had to take a step back to steady himself. She was laughing with joy, she was almost hysterical, but Will was still frozen. He hadn't reacted except to steady himself when she threw herself at him. But slowly it dawned on him what was happening - Lyra was there. She was holding him. She was laughing. He regained movement as he came to his senses and lifted his arms to hold her to him, and suddenly, he was laughing too. Partially with joy, partially at the sheer absurdity of it all.

After a few seconds he pulled back and held her at arms length by her shoulders, as if to get a good look at her.

"It's really you," he breathed, still in disbelief. His eyes darted across her face, trying to take every inch of her in.

"It's really me," she beamed at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"You're here! You're real! You're -" he stopped and furrowed his brow slightly, studying her, "your hair. It's different."

"Oh, yeah," she laughed, "it was part of a disguise."

"Of course it was," he laughed too before pulling her close again, pressing his forehead to hers. Tears had begun to well in his eyes now too. "But how, Lyra, how are you here?"

"Pan found a window," she told him joyously. "In the desert.

"A window? But they were all supposed to be closed - hold on, did you say in the desert?" His head was spinning and he was burning with a million questions.

"Yes, but I don't care, Will, I'll tell you about how I got here later, right now I just want to be here," she smiled tearfully at him.

He nodded in understanding. At their feet, Pan and Kirjava were nuzzling into each other. They parted and wound around Will's and Lyra's ankles, each greeting the only other human in existence they loved as much as their own.

o-o-o

Unbeknownst to the pair swept up in their happy reunion, Malcolm Polestad watched the scene unfold in front of him through the leaves of a group of nearby trees. He had followed Lyra here as instructed by Oakley Street. It had been a difficult journey but he had managed to track her to the Botanic Gardens, having been told this was somewhere she was likely to come. He had just spotted her sitting on the bench when this boy had appeared, and to his shock they greeted each other like old friends - no - old lovers. Lyra's eyes were wide with pure adoration for this boy in front of her, flowing with tears of joy at the sight of him. Malcolm had never seen her look like that. He didn't know she could look like that.

He watched with horror as Pantalaimon jumped into the boy's arms, nuzzling his face into his chest. In turn, the boy held Pan to him, lowering his head until his chin nestled into the fur of the daemon's head. Seeing Pan do this, seeing someone else touch Lyra's daemon, and in such an intimate way, made Malcolm's stomach turn over. Before he could look away, he saw the boy's cat daemon wind around Lyra's legs, before Lyra bent down to scoop her into her arms. Then Lyra and the boy hugged each other once again, squashing the two daemons between their chests. Malcolm looked down at Asta, who had turned her head in disgust.

"Let's go," he said to her faintly. Where exactly, he didn't know. Home was a long way away. All he knew is that he could not stand to watch another second of this happy reunion.

Notes:

Sorry for involving Malcolm, I promise we won't see much of him. I just feel it's important that storyline gets resolved with him knowing, in no uncertain terms, that he and Lyra are never going to happen lol. Also I'm aware this chapter was a little short - there's plenty more, it just needs editing and I really wanted to get their reunion up!