A.N.- I don't own anything
Ephram stared at his mother's present. Find the purest place in his heart. He didn't know what the purest place in his heart, but he knew there was no way he'd find it in Europe. "Amy" he whispered, the syllable bearly audible. He needed her. She'd done everything she could to try to help him, but he'd pushed her away. She hadn't known that he didn't want to go to Julliard anymore. She had been trying to do the right thing in not telling him about his baby before he went to New York. She would have told him when he got back, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. And although he hadn't been able to admit it when she needed him to, the thought of spending the rest of his life without her was his worst fear. On that plane, staring at the clouds, he could truly believe that they might be together for the rest of their lives. With all his heart. For she was the purest part of him. He wanted to jump up and down, screaming to stop the plane, to turn around and go home, but he knew he couldn't. Instead he waited for it to land and booked the first flight back to Denver that he could.
He pulled up to the Abbott's house, and knocked. She answered the door.
"I'm so sorry, Amy," he breathed, then, almost hesitantly, leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Her hands crept around his neck as she kissed him back. They broke apart, then he pulled her back into his arms and they sobbed silently into each other's hair, each leaning on the other to make them stronger.