Quick A/N: For each chapter, I'll include a song or a playlist of songs that helped influence and inspire the chapter. That way, if you want, you can get the whole audio/visual/mental experience, if you will, and hear what I'm hearing (if you so wish).
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone affiliated with August Rush, nor do I intend to make a profit off of this story. I wish I owned JRM, though... Darn.
Suggested song: "August's Rhapsody" by Mark Mancina from the August Rush soundtrack.
Lyla stopped.
The familiar notes jarred her senses, and her eyes opened wide in recognition. For a moment, she wanted to run away; the tune was too similar, too much like the piece she had played that night… the night she had met Louis.
The night her sweet, baby boy was conceived.
It was a magical night, and not merely because of the intimate moments that followed their meeting. The raw honesty in Louis' eyes as he spoke to her was entrancing, and Lyla felt hypnotized, trapped in his spell. In the span of a few hours, Lyla had learned about his habit of talking to the moon, that he was in a band, his favorite color was green (though he seemed a bit surprised as he said it), and that his older brother Marshall had picked on him mercilessly for being so shy and socially awkward. She also learned that he loved a strong cup of coffee, missed his mother terribly, could not remember his father, that he lived for music and it filled his very soul, and that he thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
She blushed at that thought; would he still find her beautiful now that she was older and more careworn? The constant crying and frowning the last 11 years had aged her face some, and the sleepless nights she had spent alone practically gave her permanent dark circles around her eyes. The few stretch marks she had from her pregnancy had faded with time, almost completely from sight… but were they to ever express their love in a similar fashion again, she was sure that his gentle, yet curious and loving exploration of her body would reveal her less than positive physical attributes.
If she ever saw him again.
If he wasn't already married with other children.
The thoughts flashed through her head in an instant before she was compelled to turn around, pulled by the music. It was more than the melody and the beautiful swells of the orchestra – it was a feeling that grabbed onto her heart and forced her forward. It was like hearing a voice crying out to her –
Find me.
Please, find me.
In a dreamlike state, she slowly walked back to the crowd.
--
It had been a fantastic show, and Louis was glad that he had chosen to perform again. The Connelly Brothers had been a real hit (not that his mates had honestly worried), and their ride back to their hotel room was loud with their celebrations.
Louis rolled down the window, hoping the fresh air would clean out the stench of their sweat. As he did so, the car was filled with the sound of a cello being played; rich, deep, and calling out to Louis in a way he'd never known before. His mind flickered to Lyla, dismissing it in an instant as she was, much to his despair, on her honeymoon. And yet…
He leaned forward, tapping the driver's shoulder. "Hey, what's that?" He asked, curious.
"The concert's in the park every spring."
It wasn't quite the answer Louis was hoping for, though what he was hoping for in that answer remained a mystery to him. The dark, frenzied turn the music had taken immediately set him on edge, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He wasn't sure what compelled him to look up at the banner waving from the street lamp, but he was instantaneously shocked, relieved, and frantic at the sight of it.
Guest Cellist: Lyla Novacek
Lyla? His Lyla? The one who was off, married –
"Let me out." He said, his voice quiet and filled with confusion. Adrenaline rushed through him and he heard himself shout, "Let me out! Let me out!" as he pushed his way out of the car. Blood was pumping through his veins as he sprinted down the street. The music had quickened its tempo, and with the crescendo he felt himself run harder, his feet beating even faster against the pavement. He should have been exhausted, but the adrenaline was constantly reenergizing him. As he entered Central Park, the music had quieted down, and all he could prominently hear was the wind section softly calling out to him.
Find me.
I need you.
Please, please find me.
As if in a trance, Louis began to move into the crowd, following the quiet voice that spoke to him through the music.
--
She couldn't stop herself from moving forward, though she couldn't begin to fathom why. Slowly, as if in disbelief, she pushed through the crowds. The music was quiet, the three note theme simple and beautiful to her ear. But more than that was the voice calling to her, the voice she had been told wasn't real. The voice of her boy, her Evan. A little girl's voice softly came through the speakers, handling the difficult runs with ease. Anything is possible, she thought to herself. Lyla began trying to focus on the small figure conducting the orchestra with little to no movements of his arms. She didn't want to believe it could be him -- a mother's heart could only take so much disappointment -- but so many strange things had happened – it couldn't be him, could it?
--
Louis sprinted up the hill, his heart pounding in his chest. As he reached the edge of the crowd, he stopped and stared, catching his breath. His eyes were lit up with excitement; finally, after a decade of wondering and pining, he would see his beloved again.
The music began a slow and steady crescendo, building with the gradual addition of other instruments (such as the guitar, he was pleased to hear). The beauty and magnificence of the song's 3rd movement was filling his heart in a way that almost made it feel whole again – it was lifting him and giving him hope, letting him see the world in an entirely new way. He began to move through the crowds, pushing people without apology; either Lyla was onstage, or she'd be up close to the front. There was no way that she couldn't feel the pull of the song, that she didn't feel drawn to it in a way that shook her bones and warmed her heart.
If he was to find her, it would be close to stage.
With every step he took, the voice grew louder.
I'm here! I'm here!
I wrote this for you!
Suddenly, the theme changed and he staggered back – "Moondance." It was as though the Rhapsody had been written for him and Lyla, as though the composer knew them intimately through music. His heart pumped wildly and he continued to push his way through the crowds. It was a sign. It HAD to have been a sign.
--
When the young girl hit that final, perfectly on-pitch note, the theme smoothly changed to "Moondance," a song she hadn't listened to after she thought she had lost the baby. It was as though an invisible hand was clenching its fist around her poor, battered heart. It was beautifully arranged with interesting staccato syncopation with the guitar, and the music swirled around her as though it were alive, inviting her to dance. But she continued to press on, spellbound by the sounds of the orchestra as they moved into the main theme again.
The conductor was a small man – no, a boy.
A boy.
Her heart almost stopped.
--
Even when Louis was close enough to see that Lyla was not in fact playing on the stage, he couldn't bring himself to be disappointed or to leave. While he wished it was her playing that called out to him, his eyes and ears were fixed on the little boy conducting and the recurring theme that was masterfully being reintroduced.
A strange feeling came over Louis just then, as though he were missing something. Hope filled him and, unwilling though he was to turn from the conductor, he looked to his left.
His breath caught.
Lyla.
It was as though everyone around her had faded away and left her perfect face for him to gaze on. He began to doubt that she was real when she began to step forward, perfectly in time with the rising orchestra and the driving four notes of the strings. He pushed forward, unwilling to lose her now that he'd finally found her.
--
Focused entirely on the little boy conducting, she pushed her way forward. It was him – it had to be him. It had to be his music calling out to her, begging her to find and love him. Lyla stopped just in front of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, praying that he was in fact her long-lost son.
Nothing else mattered, nothing—
And as the horns joined the still rising song, a warm hand enveloped hers. Shock ran through her and, disbelieving, she looked up into the face she had dreamt about every night for the last 11 years.
During a blissful 20 seconds, they had an entire conversation without saying a single word.
Wonder filled her eyes. It's you.
He gazed back, reassuring and loving. I knew that I would find you.
Her hand slowly grasped his.
--
August's eyes opened, his body shaking with excitement, and he was filled with optimism and hope.
He could feel them.
Could he finally be… found?
--
Lyla let out a soft laugh, her dazzling green eyes sparkling in the light. Louis was slightly confused as she looked back up at the stage, and he turned too to see what she was looking at.
The conductor?
…
His eyes widened in realization –
Louis couldn't help but pity the poor kid; alone in New York City and obviously depressed. When he dropped the money in his guitar case, the boy looked up at him and Louis had to try not to react.
That achingly familiar, sweet face. The sweetly upturned nose and pain-filled eyes – his eyes? No, just pretty blue eyes.
August Rush was an odd name, and probably not his real name… but he didn't want to scare him away by accusing him of lying.
Louis didn't understand why he felt the urge to spend time with this young boy, but playing with him and seeing that smile on his face made him feel more alive than he had in years. When young August had told him that he was a student at Juilliard and that he had a concert that evening, he almost wanted to laugh and tell the kid that he had a marvelous imagination. But something about the kid's face stopped him, forced him to believe his absurd statement. The sadness in August's face when he said that he couldn't be at his own concert brought out an instinctive, protective urge to take this boy away from whatever pain he was experiencing; Louis couldn't deny it that the boy reminded him of the only girl he had ever loved, and all he wanted to do was take care of him.
But he had to leave, and did so with a ruffle of August's hair and a few important words of advice. He couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity; he had to buckle down and make himself not look back after he heard the boy's soft voice call out, "Bye."
"He's ours, isn't he?" It was hardly even a question that needed to be asked. Lyla turned to him, her eyes full of unshed tears.
"Yes. He must be – can you feel him?"
--
His rhapsody was finally ending, but August could scarcely finish conducting. The pull of his family's eyes on him turned him around, and in that moment, he met the eyes of a beautiful blond-haired woman. She was staring up at him with so much love that he just knew, he knew that she must be his mother. He turned to see the man beside her, and a thrill ran through him – Louis! The amazing guitarist from the park, the one who gave him the courage to run away from Wizard, the one to inspire him and cheer him up when he'd been so down! He held his breath, waiting for a response from Louis, and a grin lit up his face at Louis' nod.
The final four chiming notes of his rhapsody brought tears of joy to his eyes.
I am finally found.
A/N: Wow, my first story in years... I've been an "August Rush" fan for a while now, and I felt so inspired that I stayed up all night to finish this (even though I have a test in 5 hours...). I hope you enjoy it -- sorry if it's rough, I didn't have much time to edit it since I was so rushed... well, that and I lack a beta-reader. There are so few AR fics out there, and the ones that are written aren't being updated. I guess I just got tired of waiting. In any case, I'll hopefully update again soon! Please R&R -- that fantastic button is just CALLING to you... :D.
-- Ammi