[for Lyra, the Doctor, and Chase]

[knifebearer]

It wasn't as though Will hadn't been expecting it, really, ever since the Doctor had mentioned that things from your past had a way of showing up here on the island. Maybe he'd even been hoping for it a little. More than a little, if he'd be completely honest with himself

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[dr_robchase]

Chase had taken the ball out to the makeshift pitch out front earlier in order to get a little bit of practice in with the Doctor before the Friday game came around. He was currently leaning up against the TARDIS to catch his breath as he tossed the ball to the Doctor.

And that was when he saw Will, signalling the Doctor with a nod of his head in his direction.

[sortofaman]

The Doctor had been intent on the ball as he caught it, then noticed Chase's movement and looked up before stuffing the ball under his arm. Will always looked thoughtful, but it was possible that he looked even more so. "Oi, Will," he called softly, raising a hand slightly.

[knifebearer]

Will looked up at the sound of the familiar voices, and nodded. It was lucky they'd come by, in a way, because he wanted to say good-bye to them, too. They were both that rare sort of grownup that Will didn't feel the need to lie to, and he was pretty sure he'd miss them.

"I've found the knife," he said, holding it still-sheathed in his hand. It had been two years since he'd used it, but he could still remember how it felt to slip the blade into the spaces between existences, searching out the little snags and halts with the very tip of it till he found the right one. He could still do it, of that he was absolutely sure.

[dr_robchase]

All right, well that marked Chase as being completely clueless as he had no idea what a knife had to do with anything and he glanced once at the Doctor, the confusion fraught on his face and not daring to shift. What knife? he wondered to himself, but didn't say anything.

"Knife?" he did manage aloud, though it was directed at both the Doctor and Will.

[alethioliar]

Bow in hand, Lyra was ecstatic. She'd promised to come back at a decent hour this time, still flush with a bewildered sort of happiness at having the man called James Bond attempt to look after her. It was an odd sort of deal they'd struck, but it filled enough of the holes in her heart that she barely thought to question him anymore.

Really, it was all quite simple. She trusted him. She believed him.

Slipping out from the entrance to the caves, Lyra drew her fingers through the tumble of the waterfall, coming out from behind the spray to step into the jungle. A thrill jolted through her the second she saw Will's approach; it was almost a surprise, a released breath she hadn't known she was holding, for she couldn't afford to grow complacent with her expectations, not when she still knew so little about the island.

"I was just coming to find you," she beamed, her face lighting up.

[knifebearer]

Will swallowed hard and did his best not to look away, even though the bright smile on Lyra's face made him feel like a traitor of the worst kind. This would be the last he saw of her, and he wanted to remember her just like that, her face full of life and optimism. "I've got to talk to you," he said, shifting the pack on his shoulder. "It's important."

[alethioliar]

Everything was important; Lyra felt deeply that everything that happened on this island, every moment she spent in this other world, was designed to lead her towards something big. Like Xaphania had said: a deeper, fuller grace attained. That's how it'd happened before. That's how it would have to happen again.

Nothing was pointless. Everything was precious. Everything. "All right," she gulped, already fearing the worst while she strode closer, half expecting one of those painful tugs at her heart since Pan was nowhere to be seen. "What is it? What've you got to tell me?"

[knifebearer]

Will slung his rucksack off his shoulder and reached inside, drawing out the knife in its sheath. "I've found the knife," he said unnecessarily, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "The knife," he repeated, though he knew Lyra would know exactly what he meant, exactly what he was going to do.