Disclaimer: I hope I don't have to do this for every chapter, but just in case... I do not own anything or anyone affiliated with the movie "August Rush," nor do I intend to make any profit off of it.

Suggested songs: "Scratch" by Kendall Payne & "Lily Dreams On" by Cotton Mather

They walked in silence, still reveling in the strangeness of the evening.

I found her, Louis thought in wonder. I finally found her… and I have a son! The initial fear of being a father had faded within 10 seconds of seeing the boy's face; his boy was gifted and kind, and he was the product of the most perfect night in Louis' life. Little August was an 11 year-old genius who felt the music in the same amazing way that he and Lyla did… He had the face of a cherub – the face was Lyla's through and through, but that smile and those eyes were all his. His chest swelled with an odd sort of pride at the thought – he was part of a family!

…Well, almost.

Lyla's thoughts were in a similar place. My son, I finally found my son! And at the same time… I found Louis. He didn't run away the way that Daddy said that he would…. She smiled to herself, lost in a surreal sense of bliss. Now, what do I tell him? How do I even start? Where do I even start? In the end, Lyla decided to wing it; Louis would understand. If the shock of suddenly becoming the father to an 11 year-old boy didn't send him running, then she was fairly confident that nothing else she could say would scare him off.

Louis suddenly grabbed at her elbow and tugged her into a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. There was a counter with 5 or 6 barstools, a mellow indie-folk band playing in the corner, and a few booths. They slipped into the only empty booth and each ordered a cup of coffee and two poppy-seed muffins. The waitress was kind, but seemed to wordlessly understand their need for privacy, for after delivering their coffee and pastries, she went a few booths over to chat with the patrons there. Lyla nervously poured cream into her coffee while adding a few raw sugars. She gave it a quick stir and took a sip, scalding her tongue. She swallowed quickly and winced, blowing on the coffee before she took another sip. Louis took his coffee black, looking at ease enough to take calm, even sips. He set his coffee down and looked at her imploringly.

"So, Lyla," He began, his voice surprisingly steady. "August came from that one night together?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. She smiled awkwardly and took another sip of her coffee.

"Yes." She said simply. "I found out when I was about 6 weeks along."

"Did the sickness clue you in?" He asked, a smile slightly turning the corners of his mouth. He wanted the explanations to be as painless as possible for Lyla, though his longing to have been there for her, to have been joyous with her at the discovery of the baby, to hold her throughout the pregnancy and cater to her every need… it was overwhelming and made that smile harder to hold. She ran her hand through her thick mane of curly hair.

"Actually, no; I didn't even notice that I was… late. And the uh, the morning sickness wasn't that bad. It came and went pretty quickly, so I honestly thought I had a bad stomach flu."

"What made you realize—"

"I just knew. " She interrupted. She blushed a bit at his confused look. "One day, I was practicing the cello and I… I just knew. I placed my hand here," She rested her hand on her stomach. "And it came to me. It was like a light switched on. After losing you… it was like I would always have a part of you with me. And I knew then that I would always love my child and take care of him."

"I waited for you at the arch for, well, for I don't know how long." Louis said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I was there every day for months… well, until I quit my band."

"I was there nearly every day as well, just hoping I would see you. I guess we just have horrible timing." She said sadly. "I can't tell you how many days I spent on the bench, pregnant and alone." Lyla blinked back tears. Louis reached forward to take her hand.

"If I could have found you sooner, you know that I would have. Even after I found out that you were on your honeymoon, I still—" Lyla practically spit out her coffee then, stopped only by her hand.

"Honeymoon? What honeymoon?!" She was coughing a bit, but quickly got it under control (due mostly to the disgruntled looks from the band in the corner). Louis gave her a wry smile, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I found you online and from there… well, I looked you up in Chicago." He ran his free hand through his hair, looking a bit sheepish. "I'd written you a song, and I waited outside your apartment for a good 5 hours before your landlady said that you were off on your honeymoon."

"Oh no, no, that's my friend Lizzie – she just got married, and she came back early for me, actually. Well, because I told her that I found out that August was alive…"

"Alive?" Louis asked, and then shook his head. "Not yet, there's more to the story, I know." He pulled his hand from hers and lightly bit his thumb. "So I take it that you're not in fact married or otherwise engaged?" He asked, teasingly. Lyla laughed.

"My heart has always belonged elsewhere." She gave him a meaningful look. His heart beat was thunderous and painful, but he gave her his brightest smile. Lyla's heart clenched at that lovely smile, and it took quite a bit of her self-control to keep her from kissing him within an inch of his life.

"As has mine." He replied, his deep, soul-searching eyes finding hers. "So, we both waited for each other at the arch nearly every day, never seeing each other. You find out that you're pregnant and…?" He trailed off, waiting. She took a deep breath – the story was getting to the painful part.

"My father has always been very invested in my music, almost to a bullying degree. He used to be my teacher." She said slowly, trying to word this part of the story correctly. "He was angry enough the night we met since I didn't come home, and when he found out that I was pregnant, he convinced me that you wouldn't help, that you wouldn't be there for me." Louis' eyes darkened in anger, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Did he now?" He asked, nostrils slightly flaring. Lyla nodded, looking embarrassed.

"He kept asking about your occupation, and when I told him that you were in a band… well, he went through the roof. He pushed for an abortion for the first month and a half after we found out, but I refused. For the next 6 months, he said that the baby would ruin my career, just as I had ruined my mother's -- she w-was a violinist. He told me that I had to put the baby up for adoption. For me, putting August up for adoption was never an option; though I had never met him, I loved my son dearly." She paused for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee and looking a bit paler. "It was about 2 weeks before the due date when things got… they got bad, Louis." Lyla's voice had grown shaky, and she was visibly trembling. Louis reached for her hand again, warming it with his. This seemed to give her the strength to go on.

"We – We were out to dinner one night. The evening started well enough; he didn't bring the baby up, he didn't bother me about my career… it was a delicious dinner and everyone in the restaurant complimented me on how beautiful I looked. People I had never met before fussed over my belly, asked me about my baby, and they all said that I was 'positively glowing'." She pinched the bridge of her nose, wearing a grim smile. "After all of the attention, my father got worked up again. He started yelling about my career, telling me that my son would ruin my life. He brought you up again, reminding me that you weren't there, yelling about how you weren't ever going to be there. I stormed out of the restaurant, not looking where I was going and…" Her voice caught as she relived that moment of terror and intense pain. "I got hit by a car." She nearly whispered. Louis' grip tightened on her hand. Her beautiful green eyes were filled with tears of agony, and he felt familiar pinpricks in his own eyes. "I don't remember much of that night. I remember the pain and a lot of shouting. I had almost passed out when they said that August would die if they didn't do something right away." She sniffled and wiped away a tear. "When I woke up, I was hurting and feeling sick. I felt bruised and beaten, but mostly, I felt empty. I put my hand to my stomach and wanted to die when I realized that I was no longer pregnant. A thousand thoughts flew through my head, but I couldn't – I couldn't let myself believe that he was dead. My father was there when I woke up, and he spoke the words that forever changed my life…" Tears slipped down her face at the memory, the pain of that wound never really healed. "H-he said that they l-lost him." She stuttered through her quiet sobs.

"Oh Lyla," Louis said, gripping her hand. He moved out of his seat and sidled into the plush seat beside her, pulling her into his arms. She buried her face into his neck, the smell of his brown leather jacket smooth and calming. He wrapped his arms around her, running his fingers through her hair and gently kissing the top of her head. "I can't imagine how painful that must have been for you. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help." After a few minutes, Lyla lifted her head from his neck and wiped the tears from her face.

"After that, I quit playing the cello... I gave up on music completely. But I needed money, since I stopped talking to my Dad. I became a music teacher for elementary school students and tortured myself for years, watching these children grow up and knowing that my own son would have been about their age. My father had a heart attack a few months ago and the hospital staff told me that he requested to see me. I hadn't seen him in years…" She shook her head, her voice growing stronger. "He told me that August wasn't dead, that he had forged my signature on the adoption papers while I was sleeping. I left for New York after that, and I searched for him for about 6 months. Tonight was the first night I got to see him… and to have found you, I…" She paused. "It's entirely surreal, Louis. I'm terrified that I'm going to wake up at any moment and find that none of this ever happened." Lyla closed her eyes and Louis gently kissed her on the forehead. He pulled her to him again, his mouth at her ear.

"Oh, I'm real, girlie." She shivered as his voice caressed her ear. "You'll have a hell of a time getting rid of me now, whether you like it or not." She laughed for a moment in his arms.

"Definitely 'like it.'" He laughed and kissed her forehead again.

"We have a lot more to discuss, love, but I think we need to be somewhere a bit more private. I have a feeling that the band over there would like to wring our necks." Lyla peeked over at the group in the corner and found them shooting glares at their booth. She stifled a giggle and agreed.

"Do you have a place to stay?" She asked. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.

"I have a hotel room, but I'm sharing it with Marshall." His nose wrinkled in disgust at the name. "He's such a bloody pain."

"Well, you could – you could stay with me, if you wanted." She said shyly. "I mean, we do have more to talk about and I'd love to spend some more time with you."

"I'd love that." Louis replied, pulling her into another hug. "Let's go." After paying and bagging their forgotten muffins, the two left the coffee shop and headed for Lyla's apartment.

"What have you been up to over the years?" She asked.

"Pining over you." He replied, not missing a beat. "I quit singing and playing because I couldn't get over you. I thought -- I thought that it was pointless, that you couldn't hear me anyways. So I went to business school for a few years and became a talent agent, scoping out and signing on up and coming bands."

"Really? How has that worked out for you?"

"Fairly well; I rarely spend any money." He admitted, looking sheepish. "I got a crappy little apartment in San Mateo, just outside of San Francisco. I ate and lived cheaply because I was always working and rarely ever home. So I have a lot of money saved up, which I suppose has worked out."

"Were you here on business?"

"No," Louis grabbed her hand, his thumb rubbing small circles on her hand. "I came here on a hunch. Even though you were supposed to be on your honeymoon, I just felt like I had to come back to New York. I waited at the arches again, though it was a bit silly." He shook his head at the memory. "I wrote a song for you in the hopes that you would hear it."

"Will you play it for me?"

"Soon. Once I get my guitar back, yeah." Her eyes brightened.

"What have you been doing here, besides following hunches and writing music?"

"I convinced the rest of the band to fly out to play a gig here, and I'm pretty sure they're all thinking of getting the band back together."

"And you? Will you be joining the band again?"

"Depends," He said slowly. "I will have to find work as an agent wherever it is that we live, so it can't interfere with that. But even more importantly… it can't interfere with my family and the time I spend with you two." He said the last part hopefully, his ocean-blue eyes staring at her intently. Lyla nodded and gave his hand a tight squeeze. She looked up, realizing that they were at the arches again.

"This will always feel like home to me." She said softly. He looked around and smiled.

"I met August over there." Louis smiled and pointed at the familiar spot. "He's only been playing guitar for 6 months, and he's already brilliant. We have a genius for a son, love." Lyla nodded, warmth bubbling up through her. "I heard him playing and I felt the need to talk to him, to play music with him. He was such a sad looking little boy and I – I felt so connected. I couldn't explain it… he's honest and completely straight-forward with you, which is strange for a boy his age. That's usually reserved for children just learning how to speak. I could hardly leave him… If I had known then, maybe he could have been happier just a bit sooner." He frowned, the guilt rising in his stomach.

"You couldn't have known." Lyla reminded him. "There was no reason for you to think that he was your son when you didn't even know that you had one."

"But my intuition… I should have trusted my gut." Lyla shivered, and Louis realized that she was still in that thin, white dress. He kept his eyes from drifting downwards and focused on taking off his jacket. He slipped it on her shoulders and pulled her close. "Sorry lass, I forget sometimes that women don't stay warm the way that men do." She laughed and thanked him. "Let's get inside your place and settle in. We still have to answer some of Mr. Jeffries' questions, after all." Lyla nodded and they walked to her lovely apartment building together. Louis was surprised that her apartment felt so much like a home – it was certainly more stylish than his own place. She had a comfortable leather couch, a decent-sized TV, a spacious living room and kitchen, art hanging on the walls, a bookshelf filled with music books, a cello case in the corner…

"Would you like me to make you some tea?" She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"What have you got?"

"The only thing decaffeinated I have is chamomile; will that be alright? I'm feeling a bit shaky after the caffeine in the coffee; I never have caffeinated drinks so late at night."

"Chamomile will be fine, love." She smiled at his term of endearment and put the kettle on the stove.

"Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?" She asked, feeling awkward in her dress. He shook his head. "I'll be right back," She assured him, and she rushed into her bedroom. Lyla selected a comfortable t-shirt and pajama bottoms, but couldn't quite get her dress undone. It would be embarrassing to ask Louis for help, but it would be more embarrassing if she spent 20 minutes trying to reach for that back snap and zipper –

"Louis, can you help me, please?" She called. His footsteps grew louder as he approached the door, and he knocked before entering. "Please, come in." He opened the door and waited, his face masked in darkness. It made her a little more nervous -- she felt exposed to his gaze, and as a thrill ran down her spine, she couldn't quite decide if that was a bad thing. "I – I can't get this snap or the zipper – my arms aren't long enough and I'm really uncomfortable—" Wordlessly, he stepped around her and she stopped talking. He ran his hand down her back, and she reveled in the feel of his hand against her bare skin. He took his time with the snap and pulled the zipper down slowly. He placed a hand on the newly exposed skin, his touch light on the small of her back, and softly nuzzled her neck.

"Anything else?" He asked, his voice soft and husky in her ear. She squeaked as she said "no," and he gave her a slight smirk as he left the room. "I'll be out here waiting for you." Lyla, slightly flustered, quickly stepped out of her dress and pulled on her pajamas. She put the leather jacket back on, enjoying the warmth it provided her. With her dress hung up nicely, she quickly stepped back into the living room area, seeing Louis already seated on her couch. She plopped down next to him and let out another squeak when he gathered her into his arms. "I love the look of my jacket on you," He said as he tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "You're so lovely." She blushed and changed the subject, secretly pleased that he still thought that she was beautiful.

"Where do you suppose we should live?"

"San Francisco is far too expensive, love."

"As is Chicago."

"What about a more suburban area in New York? We have Juilliard to think about, after all."

"I suppose we could ask August where he might like to live tomorrow."

"That's probably a good idea; I would want him to live wherever most inspires his music." They then talked of August's Rhapsody in C Major, exclaiming how brilliant their incredible son was. The conversation lulled for a moment before Lyla changed the subject again.

"Do you think I should continue performing?" Lyla asked. "I could maybe teach music at public schools, or give private lessons… and maybe perform with any local orchestras?"

"Never quit on your music, Lyla. You should play until your fingers give out." Louis loved the feel of Lyla against him; her lilac-vanilla scent was tantalizing, and her skin was soft to his touch. He lazily ran his fingers over her arms, randomly pressing kisses to the top of her head or her temples. "Maybe we should skip the tea for tonight, love; I'm beat."

"I was about to suggest that." She climbed out of his lap and walked gracefully to the stove. He loved her look of concentration as she turned off the stove and emptied the contents of her tea kettle into the sink.

"Do you have any extra blankets or pillows?" Louis asked. Lyla looked at him, puzzled.

"I suppose, why?"

"I was just going to make my bed, I suppose." He gestured to the couch. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink when she realized that he would not be sleeping with her like she'd hoped unless she offered.

"Well I don't have that many blankets… And I mean, you don't have to sleep on the couch. We could always share my bed, if you wanted. It's queen-sized." She finished quietly, feeling embarrassed.

"I imagine you get cold in that big bed, all by yourself?" Louis asked, gesturing towards her room. Her voice was stuck in her throat, so she merely nodded. He reached out his hand to her and she walked to him, taking it in her stride. She led him to the the front door, which she locked, and after turning out all of the lights, led him back to her bedroom. She climbed into bed while he stripped to his dark blue boxer-briefs and t-shirt, looking mildly embarrassed. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, his cheeks a bit red. She shook her head, and he turned out the lights before settling into bed next to her. He pulled her up against him, her back to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her like he had so many years ago.

Lyla hadn't felt so safe and at home in over 12 years. It was as though she had never left those perfect arms, and she snuggled into his body, loving the feeling of his breath on her exposed skin.

Louis could hardly believe his luck; after searching for 12 years, she was finally here and she still fit perfectly against him. Lyla was finally in his arms, and he fell asleep, content.

They drifted off into an easy sleep and dreamed of the wonderful days to come.

A/N: About 1500 words longer than usual and out in 6 days -- I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you to all of my reviewers, as your words of encouragement urged me to type a bit faster and work that much harder to churn out a good chapter. Just know that I worked several sleepless nights on this chapter, trying to make it flow better, to keep the characters IN character, to make sense... I did some research, re-worded things constantly, and I tried to make a really good chapter, especially since it was such an important conversation that needed to take place. It's also a bit tough without a beta, so if anyone knows a good beta I could check out who loves "August Rush," please let me know!

Any feedback you guys have would be great -- don't be shy to click the purple button and drop me a line! I'll start replying to reviews from Chapter 3 and on; I was just so focused on getting the idea out there.

Also, I was thinking of doing a "Waitress"/"August Rush" crossover, using the storyline (to an extent) of "Waitress" but incorporating Louis from "August Rush" into it. I feel like Jenna (Keri Russel's character in "Waitress") needs some real romance at the end, someone besides a married doctor to try to sweep her off of her feet. Plus, it's a great movie, even without a romantic ending. Keri Russel really shines in "Waitress" and it makes you want pie really, really badly. What are your opinions on the crossover?

Thank you again for your encouragement, and I'll have another chapter out as soon as I can!

-Ammi