A/N: These are my ideas for what happens with Louis and Lyla (and I guess August) after the end of the film. It's not as long as it looks; it's not a continuous story, though some chapters are consecutive. Expect time jumps, read only what you want, and let me know if you like it/what you'd like better. Thanks for reading!

Much More Than Life

"My eyes are open,

My arms are raised for your embrace,

My hands are here to mend what is broken -

To feel again the warmth of your face.

I believe there is more to life

Oh, I love you much more than life."

- "Someday" by John Legend

Louis Connelly gazed lovingly at the woman who had so altered his person all those years ago. Lyla Novacek was aged, as was he, ever so slightly, but the smile that spread across her face threw him back to the first day they met. However, her eyes only lingered on him for a moment before turning to the stage. He looked too, wondering what had so captivated her attention.

On the stage above them, a boy had been leading the orchestra; it was the concert that brought he and Lyla together. Even so, the tiny conductor was standing as if he forgot what he was there to do, and Louis could see the slight tremors in his body before he turned around and looked down at them.

Louis knew the boy - the one who had seemed so sad before and after they had played together, yet so free and joyful in the moment. He had felt drawn to the boy - he called himself August, but couldn't understand why. Now, looking up at the smiling boy – the dimples in his cheeks and the soulful blue eyes of Louis' own mother, the ones he had inherited – Louis to truly saw him. This was Lyla's son. This was his son.

"That's our son," Lyla whispered as the final notes sounded.

"Yes," Louis said assuredly.

Applause sounded from the surrounding audience, breaking the haze that had enveloped Louis and Lyla. The boy - Louis' son -
barely bowed before running off stage. Lyla led Louis eagerly backstage where they would both be introduced to their child, a symbol of their love.

Richard Jeffries felt breathless. This boy that he had known for less than a year evolved from not knowing what whistling was to writing and conducting a piece for a symphony. And the piece might have been the most beautiful piece of music he had ever heard. Evan Taylor was running in his direction, looking ecstatic - the happiest he had ever seen him, in fact. What on Earth-?

"Evan!" Jeffries shouted as the boy neared him.

Evan stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Jeffries," he replied, surprised.

"Evan, I had no idea that-"

"Mr. Jeffries, it's my parents!" Evan interrupted, evidently too giddy to listen to anything Mr. Jeffries had to say.

"Your parents?"

"I played for them and they came. I saw them!"

"You saw them? Where?"

"In the audience! I have to go to them! I have to see them!" And with that, Evan ran past Jeffries and down the backstage stairs.

"Evan!" Mr. Jeffries called as he followed the boy out. Who exactly had he seen? And how could he possibly know they were his parents?

Following the excited boy down the stairs and behind the stage, Mr. Jeffries saw Evan frozen in place while Lyla Novacek stood opposite him, smiling. Tears were in her eyes and her hand covered her mouth in awe. A man stood behind her, pride clear as day on his face. A fool could see the resemblance when the three stood together. Richard Jeffries wasn't sure how Evan knew that these two good people (and they did seem like good people at a glance to Mr. Jeffries) were his parents, but he was willing to believe what Evan had said - maybe it was the music that brought this family together.

Lyla knelt on the ground and whispered, "Evan."

Slowly, he walked towards her, afraid that she might disappear if he ran. His legs felt like rubber and his heart was beating so hard that he thought it would break out of his chest. This was his mother, the woman who he could feel looking at the same moon he did on his loneliest nights. He was sure of it. She was beautiful. An angel.

Lyla opened her arms, inviting him in. He took two more shaky steps forward before losing all control and falling into her arms, sobbing. She held him tight, never wanting to let him go. They held each other close for a long while, each remembering moments of despair and sadness and loneliness, and the comfort they both found in the thought of the other.

Louis regarded the scene with tears in his own eyes. He had so many questions, but in that moment, all he saw and needed was the pure love that was evident between mother and child.

"I played for you," their son whispered in his mother's ear. "Did you follow the music to find me?"

Lyla nodded silently, tears continuing to stream down her face. "I heard the music. I knew it was you. I've missed you for so long." She leaned back and held him at arm's length, trying to get a good look at his face. She pushed his now dishevelled hair back off of his forehead and smiled. After a time, Lyla turned and took Louis' hand, bringing him down to kneel beside her. "This is your father," she said softly, beaming.

Louis nodded. "August," he whispered.

August smiled, "this was my concert."

Louis grinned, "I gathered that. C'mere." He pulled August into a hug and ruffled his hair before releasing him.

Lyla smiled. "August?"

"He has apparently been using the name August Rush for almost as long as he's been gone from the boy's home. That's why it was so much harder to find him," Mr. Jeffries said.

"August! Dean MacNeil wants you ba-" Hope called before stopping short. "Uh... sorry. August, you have to come back on stage."

Lyla stood, still smiling. "Go. We'll be here when you get back. I promise." She leaned down and kissed his forehead and Louis patted his shoulder. August ran after Hope; with a quick glance back to his parents, he then followed her up the steps to the stage.

"Lyla," Louis whispered, lacing his fingers into hers.

She turned, looking into his soulful blue eyes, and melted. He looked the same as he had a decade ago. Boyish yet rugged; playful yet serious.

"What's going on?" Louis whispered, chuckling softly.

Lyla let out a laugh. She introduced him to Mr. Jeffries and told him the story of what had happened from the last day she saw Louis, right up to the present moment. Louis pulled her into a passionate hug. "I'm sorry you had to do that on your own. I should ha' been there."

"You tried," she sighed deeply, taking in his comforting scent – leather, sweat, cologne. "I know you tried. I'm sorry you didn't know."

Louis shook his head. "What d'you say we stay in the present and look to the future? Forget the past. At least for now."

Lyla nodded, "I'd like that very much."