A/N: This is my first published Fanfiction, so please enjoy! And if you enjoy, it would be so awesome if you left me a review!

I don't own August Rush, of course ... just borrowing!

I snapped my cell phone shut and slipped it into my pocket, tightening my shoulders briefly against the chill of the late night air. It was nice to be talking to Marshall again, even if it was in the middle of the night. I shook my head and felt the corner of my mouth turn up into a grin, wondering how long it would take him to realize that I slept at night now. With a final glance up at the moon, I turned to head back downstairs.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw August, sitting on the cement beside the door, staring at me intently. I felt the grin on my face spread into a smile. I couldn't help it; every time I looked at the kid I couldn't help but smile. My son. Hopefully Marshall had vented all his doubts by now. Are you sure he's yours? Are you sure you want this? You haven't seen this girl in ten years, and now you're going to move in with her and her eleven-year-old son? My son, I had corrected him, and yes, I am sure. I am more sure than I have ever been.

August grinned back. I wondered how long he had been there, how long he had been listening. Ducking my head, I ambled over to him and took a seat against the wall, leaving a few feet of space between us.

"Whatcha doin', kid?" I asked.

"Watching you," he said.

"Yeah?" I prompted.

He nodded. "To get to know you better."

I pressed my lips together and nodded once. "And what didja learn?" I glanced at him curiously, feeling that inevitable smile tugging at my mouth again. Talking with August was like talking with Lyla, so easy and so right.

August shifted closer to me, sliding across the cement until he was leaning against my side. I put an arm around him, and kissed his hair as he laid his head against my shoulder. "I learned that you love me," he said. The quiet confidence in his voice was unmistakable.

"Didnja already kno' tha'?" I asked, smiling full on again.

"Yes," he said.

"I love you, my son," I murmured into his hair, pulling him tighter against my side for a moment. A moment passed as I gazed at the moon and blinked away a few tears.

"Didja learn anythin' else?"

"Sure," August replied easily. "I learned that I love you."

I glanced at him questioningly.

"I knew that already, too, but now I know more," he explained.

"More?" I asked, my voice coming out a little hoarse.

"I've loved you for as long as I can remember because you're my dad, but now I can love you because you love me, because you love my mom, because you're a good person and a dreamer, because you talk to the moon, too, just like I do."

I couldn't answer - my throat was thick with unshed tears - so I leaned my head against his hair and wrapped both arms around him for a minute, holding him close to my heart.

"I'm glad you came up t' watch then," I said, when I could control my voice again.

"Me, too," August smiled. When I pulled one arm back to my side, he shifted closer again, yawning between grins. For a few moments we just gazed up at the moon together, but I could feel something building in my heart, a faint pressure that I had almost forgotten in my ten years away from the music. I smiled and closed my eyes, hearing the tune weave itself inside my ears, feeling my lips move ever so slightly, testing the words on my tongue. When I opened my eyes and glanced down at August, I wasn't surprised to see that he was watching me intently.

I reached over with my free hand and brushed a finger down his jaw, and then I started to sing for him, very softly. He watched for a time, even putting a hesitant hand to my face for a moment, and then to my throat. I just smiled and kept crooning to him, my heart pouring itself into the softness of every word. He closed his eyes, and, a few moments later his hand slipped away from my skin. I kept singing as his breaths deepened and his head slipped an inch lower on my shoulder. Even when his face smoothed into serenity and I was sure that he was asleep, I sang on, watching his breath fill his lungs, feeling his heartbeat under the hand that I laid carefully against his chest.

In a minute, I would take my son to his bed, I told myself, and let him get a good night's sleep. But for right now, I couldn't move, I couldn't change anything. I wanted this moment to go on and on. My heart full, for the first time in years, of joy and love and music. My son and I, alone on the rooftop, under the moon.