Author's note: I Love the Movie!
SonEvan'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.
He closed his eyes.
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 ten 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 fingertips. 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 cool 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.
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 poured and pounded through the air, playing the life of this boy in its melody. 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 opened his eyes. He 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 with the elation. 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 put him to bed and to make him snacks when he got home and to comb his hair for school.
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 dreamed about how his arms had felt around her, how his lips moved over hers, how his smile had entranced her.
She reached out now and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.
"Louis," she said quietly, "this is 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 and she said, "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 Evan," 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 sense, but it sure felt right.