Evan could feel something change in his music. The notes were the same, the crescendos and decrescendos, the instruments. But in some indescribable way, it was different.

He didn't understand it. He didn't need to. Wizard had said that music was something you felt, something that flowed through your ears straight down into your heart, not into your head. He'd always felt the music the same way, ecstatic and full of life. But this time it was different.

Evan closed his eyes, letting his heart feel the change, memorizing it. His arm mechanically conducted the music, letting the musicians play his melody. They knew everything they needed to; they'd all practiced so many times already.

Suddenly, it changed again. The music had changed into something even more unforgettable, even more magnificent.

His eyes opened.

Evan's breath began to catch in his throat and his hands began to shake, the baton wavering to a standstill. The musicians saw his excitement, his fear, but didn't know what it could possibly mean. Evan knew. He couldn't explain it, but he knew. His heart filled with a feeling he wasn't accustomed to. Something had crept up on him. He didn't understand it, but he knew.

Lyla felt someone gingerly slide their fingers into her hand. The completeness, the filling sensation in her soul, leapt as those fingers touched her skin. She looked down at the hand in hers, half expecting it to not be there. But it was there. Her soul had been fitted again to another person… so perfectly. She felt the music as purely as she did that night twelve years ago; it was just as effortless and as heady as it had been before she'd lost Louis and the baby.

Lyla could feel the music, the fiery soulfulness, burning in those calloused fingers. She gripped them and looked up at Louis, unsurprised. She smiled at his handsome face, looking into his bright blue eyes and falling into the 'wish' again.

She laughed with the thrill of it and felt happiness.

Louis smiled, holding Lyla's warm smooth hand like a lifeline. He knew this was a quick fix, knew that she would leave him again, back to her husband, back to her life as a princess. But he also knew that he needed this moment more than anything.

Playing tonight had been harder than he'd ever admit. Lyla's memory had plagued him for years after he'd stopped playing, and then he'd gotten onstage and it'd flooded back into him. Seeing her, healthy, vibrant, soft, subtle, and beautiful, was like being submerged.

And he wanted to drown.

Lyla's green eyes left him and turned back to the stage. August Rush was frozen, his small form still facing the orchestra. The beckoning music still weaved through the air, playing the life of this boy in its melody. How had he made the music do that, weave instead of just play?

Louis had him to thank for his reunion with Lyla; how August's music knew his heart so well, Louis hadn't the slightest idea. Louis had known in the park earlier that day that August was special. He'd been reluctant to leave him, a little more than reluctant if he was being honest. He'd felt… relief, easiness, like he did now.

Evan knew exactly where to look. He could hear their music, the new music from their two separate heartbeats and the two sets of lungs breathing in his music. His parents.

He turned slowly, finding their figures right behind him in the crowd.

He saw her angelic face, her halo of blond hair lit up brightly and her white dress flowing around her. She was holding hands with his father. He was the man who'd traded guitars with him earlier. Evan had known something about him was different from any other man he'd seen. Now, he knew why.

They smiled at him, and the rush of finality washed over Evan. It was confirmed. He belonged to them, and they belonged to him. He laughed, looking up to where his music was entering the sky. His music had helped him. He'd been found.

Evan didn't wait for the orchestra to finish. He scrambled down from his perch onstage and landed neatly on the grass, his tuxedo unruffled. He'd waited eleven years, eight months, and six days for his parents, and now... he didn't know what to do. Evan knew with his whole heart that this was his family, but he hesitated.

Did they know who he was?

Lyla reached forward and touched the white gate with her fingers. Evan, her son, her baby, was so close. She needed him; she had needed him since the day she thought she'd never see Louis again; she had needed him like her lungs, like her bones.

She had imagined what it would feel like to hold him in her arms and to comb his hair for school and to put him to bed and to make him snacks when he got home.

He was so close.

"Evan," she whispered, lifting her hand toward him.

Louis watched as August Rush hurried to the barricade with his eyes full of emotion. As Lyla let go of his hand and reached out for the boy, Louis felt confusion mar his euphoria.

"Evan," Lyla called to August. The small lad reached Lyla's outstretched arms and threw his arms around her, the white fence still between them.

Louis still couldn't understand. He knew there was a connection between Lyla and August, but he didn't know how that could be. Lyla didn't have any siblings. There was just no real explanation to why Lyla took August's head in her hands and looked into his eyes and cried.

Evan smiled at his mother, noticing how her warm hands touched his cheeks and hair, how her voice lilted as she said his name, his real name, and said, "I found you."

"You found me," he said, half-crying, half-laughing. He didn't know how she knew who he was, but he didn't care. He was found.

His mother's lips touched his forehead as a figure stepped up next to her behind the fence. Evan looked up at the tall man, Louis. His father.

"Hello again," Louis smiled. "I guess I'll have to believe ya now."

Evan laughed and wiped the wetness from his eyes.

Lyla straightened and looked at Louis, her eyes wide. Visions of the night they had met played in her mind, flushing over her skin and causing her heart to thump. She had dreams about how his arms had felt around her, how his lips moved over hers, how his smile had entranced her.

This beautiful, wonderful boy beside her was a product of that night...

She reached out now and grabbed the sleeve of Louis' jacket.

"Louis," she said quietly, "he's my son."

Louis' mind reeled back with shock.

Lyla had a son. She had a son. She was married. She… wasn't his. She'd never been his.

What was he doing here?

Lyla saw his distress a little too clearly, and hastily, her perfect mouth parted again, "He is your son."

Louis' world refocused for one moment, bringing the details of August's and Lyla's faces into better focus. And then the ground started to sway again. He felt his hand circle Lyla's wrist and his mouth open silently, his other hand finding the rail of the barricade.

"This is our son," Lyla's voice said, stepping closer. "Our son."

Her grip tightened on his jacket as Louis looked down at August… Evan. His small face was still wet, his long, unruly hair so like Lyla's only brown like Louis,' his mouth drawn up at the corners like hers, eyes blue like his.

Louis reached out and tentatively set his hand around Evan's ear, still holding Lyla's hand. It didn't make any sense, but it sure felt right.

Lyla's heart sang for joy. Her life was coming together perfectly and it felt effortless, though it'd taken more than she'd felt she had. Louis' calloused fingers were tight around hers, and she could almost feel his blood rushing and his whole body in her hand. She was so aware of him it was unbearable.

She couldn't keep her eyes off of Evan; he was so perfect. As he climbed over the barricade to hug Louis, as he laughed and smiled up at her, all she could think of was how wonderful he was. She didn't know how she had survived without him.

"Evan!"

Lyla looked up toward the voice, her hand curling possessively around Evan's shoulder. Mr. Jefferies waved at her, his eyes bright.

"Miss Novacek," Mr. Jefferies said, jogging over to them. "I… I don't know what to say except… Wow." He laughed, looking down at Evan and shaking his head. "How you doin,' kid?"

Evan smiled at Mr. Jefferies, "Fine." Seeming to think through this a little more, Evan shivered and exclaimed, "I'm great!"

Lyla smiled delightedly down at him, pulling him closer to her.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Jefferies; I'm with the Child Services of New York," Mr. Jefferies held out a hand to Louis.

"Louis Connelly," Louis said, shaking hands with Mr. Jefferies, "Evan's father."

Mr. Jefferies seemed surprised yet again.

Lyla smiled as she thought of Louis' last name. There had been hardly a moment twelve years ago that she hadn't wished that she'd thought to ask Louis his last name. She might've fantasized about calling herself Mrs. Connelly. But life had caught up with her and she'd learned to ignore everything she could remember about Louis; now, it all crashed down on her.

"I thought Miss Novacek had no contact with Evan's father," Mr. Jefferies was saying, looking at Lyla.

Lyla laughed, "I have no idea how…"

Louis stepped closer to her, wrapping his arm around her. She looked up at him. "How did you find me?"

Louis turned his blue eyes on her, the moon lighting them into perfection. "I came here to start me life again; I played tonight and… If I hadn't seen your name on those posters…"

The full impact of what had happened… what was happening right now… hit Lyla head on. He was here with her, his arm around her, so close to her. The fact inflated within her chest, and blotted everything from her mind… for a little.

Louis' eyes left her and found Evan, bringing her back to the park.

"Lucky I heard Evan's music," Louis said, touching Evan's hair. "By the way, why'd you say your name was August Rush this morning?"

Evan's little face darkened. Lyla's heart panicked slightly, seeing that look in his eyes. She pulled him tighter to her side, determined to never let that look cross his face again. No one was going to frighten her baby again. Ever. The feeling intensified when Evan wrapped an arm around her waist.

Louis remained silent when he saw this reaction. He looked up at Lyla for some explanation, but didn't receive any.

"So you've really found them, Evan," Mr. Jefferies said, looking at them all. "I'm sorry to say I didn't think the chances were good, but…" He raised his arms. "Here you are!"

"Yeah, I know!" Evan laughed and the tension left from Lyla's shoulders.

"So, what now?" Louis asked. "What happens next?"

Mr. Jefferies' business manners came back; his hands clasped in front of him and his smile turned into a tight-lipped grimace. "Well, we will have to verify that you are, in fact, his parents…"

"Ho-how will we do that?" Lyla interrupted.

"Blood tests," Mr. Jefferies stated. "It's as simple as that, and after we present that to the courts, we can see about giving you custody of Evan. I'm sure that when we explain your situation, the judge can have no objections, seeing as how Evan was never adopted."

"Did you hear that?" Lyla asked, looking down at her son. "Do you want to be a family, Evan?"

The eleven-year-old nodded, the smile stretching wider than anyone had thought possible. "Yeah," he said simply. Lyla laughed and turned to Louis, smiling shyly. She wanted more than anything to ask him, "Would you want to be a family?" but her mouth wouldn't form the words. There were so many possible answers to that question, and fifty percent of them would be unbearable to her. There was something within her that said he wanted her to ask him… but that could just be her own wishful thinking. She hoped that something in her eyes showed how much she wanted that; she had to show him how much she wanted him.

"Unfortunately," Mr. Jefferies said, "I will have to take Evan back to Child Services with me. At least until that decision is made. I'm sorry, but it's the law."

"Of course. That's understandable," Lyla said. "But not right now. Please, not yet." She tightened her arm around Evan once more.

"Alright," Mr. Jefferies nodded to himself. "I'll give you a few minutes. I'll just be… over there." He excused himself and headed back over to the stage to talk with the Dean of Julliard, who was looking down at the new family with interest.

Lyla looked at the two people in her arms. "I still can't believe that… I'm here! You're both here and…" She laughed and pulled Evan into yet another hug.

"I can't believe it either," Louis said. He looked dazed when Lyla gazed up at him and then straightened to stand beside him.

"Well, I can believe it!" Evan said, breathing deeply. The smile never left him; never. Lyla loved him all the more for it.

"That was wonderful, young man," said an elderly woman from the crowd around them.

"Truly extraordinary," said her companion, a balding man with the distinct look of a professor about him.

"Thank you," Evan said, smiling to them.

"You did wonderful, too, darling," said the woman to Lyla.

"Oh, thank you, very much," Lyla said, her heart in the statement. She pulled Evan and Louis closer to her, reveling in them once again.

…An hour later…

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Lyla repeated to Evan, hugging him for the twenty-sixth time tonight; she was counting.

"Okay," Evan said. The sadness at their departure made the blue in his eyes turn darker.

"Don't worry, lad," Louis said. "There's no way in hell any court can keep me and your mum from seeing you."

Evan laughed and hugged Louis before retreating up the stone steps toward Mr. Jefferies. His tuxedo made him look very thin, Lyla noticed, as Evan turned and waved a final time before going into the building. She stared at the door for a moment, thinking about Evan and how much she was going to miss him tonight.

Suddenly, she was very aware of the man standing next to her. She turned and was again hypnotized by the light in his eyes. She'd succeeded in forgetting how blue they were, and how clear his gaze was… and how… warm he made her feel just by biting his lower lip.

Lyla reached for his hand instinctively; it wasn't until she felt him squeeze her fingers that she realized how bold a move she'd made. It made her tremble when she thought of how much bravery it would've taken if she'd been thinking at all.

"Let's go, darlin'," Louis said, pulling her toward the curb to signal for a cab.

The taxi ride to her apartment was silent. Lyla was happy to simply lean against Louis, watching him play with her fingers. She let her mind go blank, and was surprised when the cab pulled to a stop and Louis leaned forward to pay.

Lyla reached for her wallet, but Louis was ushering her out the door before she'd even pulled it out of her pocket.

"Wait, Louis!" she said, standing on the sidewalk. He didn't look at her, holding the door open for another person to climb in. Once he'd shut the door for them, he turned to her, saying, "Yeah?" He looked down at the wallet in her hand. "Oh, don' worry about it, Lyla."

Her lips tightened as he came closer.

"Honestly, it wasn't that much," he said, touching her arm reassuringly.

Lyla nodded and turned toward the building, leading him through a small entryway to some stairs and up to her apartment. Her landlady looked out from her bedroom as they ascended, but upon seeing Louis, the elderly lady quickly shut the door. Lyla smiled, embarrassed only a little.

Louis stepped into her living room, looking at the old couch next to the many windows and her cello on its stand.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked as she hung her jacket next to the door.

"Only a few weeks," she responded.

There was a bit of silence and then Lyla asked, "Would you um… like something? I don't have much right now but um…"

"No, thank you, Lyla," Louis said. He stood in the center of the living room, his hands at his sides. Lyla still didn't truly feel awake enough to believe he was really there, standing so close. Touch was the only thing that had kept her from thinking she'd been hallucinating…

As he stared at her, Lyla became very aware of the white dress she was wearing. "If you want to sit down… I'll be right back… in a minute." She gestured to the couch and then walked to her bedroom, trying not to seem too hasty.

In her bedroom, Lyla changed back into the clothes she'd been wearing before the concert; just a plain white shirt and jeans. It was late, but she would rather not be seen in her pajamas by Louis, not right now. Maybe he would stay the night… she stopped herself there.

Just as she was about to go out the door, Lyla thought about taming her hair, but decided that it would take more time than it was worth.

Louis was sitting on her couch, his leather jacket over the arm. He was leaning forward onto his knees, his face in his hands. She wondered if he was tired… and then if he was crying, but it looked like neither; his shoulders were too tense for exhaustion and he wasn't making a sound. Her bare feet were silent on the wood floor as she approached him and he didn't look up until she was sitting next to him.

"You're a quiet one," he said, smiling as he sat up.

She smiled.

It was silent again, but it didn't feel awkward. Lyla loathed breaking it, but she was bursting with questions and she didn't know where to start.

"How are you?" she finally asked.

Louis laughed, leaning back on the couch. "I'm great, Lyla. How are you?"

"I'm alright," she smiled, looking down at her hands awkwardly.

It was silent once again, but, unlike their time in the taxi, it wasn't comfortable.

"We'll have to talk about it sometime," Louis said under his breath. Lyla wondered if he'd said it unconsciously. He leaned forward again and took her hand in his, taking a huge breath.

"What happened, Lyla?" Louis asked quietly.

Lyla sighed. She repeated what Louis had said in her head- "We'll have to talk about it sometime." Frowning, she pulled her legs up and folded them on the couch, turning to face him. She thought hard about what she should say, clutching his hand in both of hers. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "When I went home that morning, my dad was furious. He wouldn't listen to me and he wouldn't let me go to the arch to meet you. I became resigned to the fact that I'd never see you again." Her eyes grew sad. "When I found out I was pregnant, I was so… so scared. I wasn't ready to be a mother… but at the same time, I wanted the baby." Lyla looked up at Louis then, wanting to know what his reaction would be. He was staring at her with an inscrutable expression. Trying not to feel panicked by this, Lyla plowed on through her story. "My dad tried to convince me to give the baby up; he said that it could hurt me, that I couldn't be a mother and be successful at seventeen. After Evan was delivered, I woke up and… my dad told me that he… the baby had died." Louis flinched and Lyla appreciated that he was silent. "He'd signed him up for adoption."

Louis said something without really opening his mouth. Lyla could guess that a swear word or two had been kept from her ears. His hand was hard around hers.

Lyla swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together. "I've spent the last eleven years as a substitute music teacher in Chicago. I couldn't touch my cello. I moved in with my friend, Lizzy, and I felt content for a while. But every once in a while, I would try to fall asleep… and I swear I could hear something from the windows… almost… something that made me think of you and the baby. It was possibly the most painful thing I've been through. When my dad had a heart attack, he felt… guilty or something, and he confessed that he'd given Evan to the adoption agencies in New York. I came straight here and I gave everything I had into finding him. Mr. Jefferies helped me. For some reason, I knew that… if I played, he would hear me, like I could hear him at night. Julliard had been trying to get me to play for them again, so I said yes and… and now…"

She stopped, enjoying the filling sensation she received whenever she thought of the moment she'd seen Evan on the stage and Louis next to her.

"Wow," Louis breathed. He laughed incredulously, running his free hand through his short hair. "Funny how things turn out, isn't it? Here we are after all these years…" He seemed excited now, shifting in his seat. "How does something like this happen, anyway? You and Evan both just happenen' to play in the same concert as each other, and me just happening to be in New York to see the posters with your name on 'em? Stuff like this… it doesn't just happen!"

Lyla smiled, "I know. It's crazy. I don't see how anyone could explain it."

Louis smiled back. They were silent for a few seconds, just marveling at how things had turned out. And then Louis slowly reached out his hand to draw a long line from her temple to her chin with his forefinger. The tender look on his face had Lyla feeling the impulse to reach for him, the moment catching her up and sweeping her away, but she resisted, and instead asked, "Louis, what did you do… after…"

Louis shifted again, looking uncomfortable for a moment. He looked out at the windows with a stiff expression before saying, "I guess I owe you my story, since you told me yours." He sighed, shifting again. "Well, I tried…" He cleared his throat. "At first, I thought… the memories would fade and I would find some other girl to sing to. Months passed and things didn't seem to be getting better, even when I was playing with me band. That usually made everything fall into place again." He trailed off, his thoughts in the past. He eventually snapped back, looking down at their hands. "Anyway, I left me band and eventually found me-self back in school. I'd always been good with numbers, so I got me a degree in Math and Finances. The last ten years I been a financing counselor for a big-shot company and to be honest, I was kick-ass doing it; got them a lot of money."

Lyla smiled. She'd never been around swearing a lot; she knew she'd lead the sheltered, uppity life. The way Louis said "kick-ass" as an everyday word was quite the turn-on.

Louis continued, "Everything went weird when I went to Nick's birthday party." He leaned forward, letting go of her hand and putting his head in his hands again. "Being around me ol' band again brought back a lot of the memories I'd tried to forget. Didn't help that me brother shoved the song I wrote you down me troat. After that, it was all downhill. I looked up your name on the Internet… just to see if I could find anything else about you. It turned into a trip to Chicago." He paused and sat back up, looking at Lyla with an uncertainty about him. Lyla grabbed his hand to encourage him. She could barely contain her excitement. He'd been looking for her even though she'd given up on him. He felt for her…

Louis took a breath and continued. "I tried calling you, but all I got was your machine so I waited all day for you to come back to your apartment. When I talked to the woman who lives next to you, I asked about you. She said you were off on your honeymoon."

Louis said it so calmly Lyla wondered if he'd said it at all. Despite the misgivings she felt, Lyla laughed and said, "She never could tell us apart! She was talking about my roommate."

Louis' eyes seemed to brighten, but he didn't seem any more cheery as he continued, "After I got over the fact that you were gone again, I made the decision to restart me band. Tonight was the first time I played in front of a crowd in years. On me way back to the hotel with me band, I saw the posters and I heard Evan's music… It led me to the concert and I found you in the crowd."

Lyla smiled. "You found me."

Louis stared at her, a small grin escaping the hard mask he'd adopted since he'd said the word honeymoon. It wasn't at all like the smiles she'd seen on the rooftop all those years ago.

"What's wrong, Louis?" she asked, pulling away from him a little.

"I don't know what to do, Lyla," he said suddenly, letting go of her hand. He stood, pacing a few steps away and then turning to face her. "You saw me." He seemed frustrated, almost angry. His voice betrayed it. "You looked at me before climbing into that car and driving away. Now, I've been through heaven once and hell twice in me life and it's all been because of you! I can't decide if heaven or hell was harder to put behind me. You gave me the best night of me life on that roof. And then, I wasn't good enough for you to hold on to. Then there was someone who you chose over me." Louis was breathing heavily, his emotions seeming to pour over him like physical matter. "Please, just tell me Lyla. What should I do? Please tell me if I should walk out that door and never come back or if I should…" He faltered, his words crashing; all the will power he had to make this speech had drained out of him, and now he waited for Lyla's answer.

Lyla sat in her stunned silence for a few moments, and then began thinking about what she should say. Everything she thought of to say sounded inadequate in her mind. How could she hope to portrait her feelings right? She'd never been good with words.

Slowly, she stood, never taking her eyes off of Louis, who was fidgeting and shifting. The energy, the music in the room felt brittle, like it could break with one soft-spoken word and transform into piercing, killing shards.

"Louis," she whispered, and he looked up at her, stilling his movements. Lyla felt her breathing catch in her throat.

The energy was still intact, running from him to her and her to him. It frightened her. How could she interrupt this stream of energy? What could she say to make it go away without hurting either of them?

She took a deep breath, feeling the burning tears right behind her eyes. "Louis, I... I've never wanted anyone like I want you. I was... broken without you. Please stay..."

Louis closed the distance between them so quickly that he cut off her plea. His hands cupped her jaw, lifting her mouth to his, and he kissed her.

Lyla felt the brittle energy evaporate, crushed beneath a new song, a familiar song that was as passionate and heavy as it had been twelve years ago.

She reached up, twining her hands around the back of his neck, pulling herself as close as she could. His mouth was warm, so warm and firm with hers, yet so soft. Her heart, feather-light from the day's proceedings, began to thrump hard in her chest as his hands traveled down her ribcage, pressing her up and into his chest so that she stood on her toes.

It felt so right. It felt better than it had before.

Evan lay staring at the ceiling. He could hear Mr. Jefferies snoring softly on the couch across the room, hear the distant traffic in the city, the quiet electricity humming from the computers in the office.

It hadn't worn off yet; he couldn't get rid of this feeling like he wasn't touching anything, like nothing was real, like he wasn't really here, like he was asleep.

Could he be sleeping? Would he wake up and find himself staring at the top bunk in the Walden's Home for Boys? He prayed he wouldn't, but he couldn't really believe that he wouldn't.

You've found them, lad.

Evan sat up, looking out the silvery window at the full moon rising above the city skyline. "You knew I would," he whispered silently, smiling.

Yes.

"I'm afraid all of this isn't real. I don't want to wake up."

Don't worry. Everything is alright.

Evan let that comforting thought wash over him, allowing himself to actually believe that he had his parents here with him.

Goodnight, lad.

"Goodnight." Evan lay back down and burrowed into the blanket, smiling slightly.