A/N: Second part of split third part. so... fourth part?

Also. Disclaimer. 5 years away and I forgot that was a thing... but. I don't own the R5 song, or Austin and Ally!

LAST CHAPTER. practically wrote itself. Please let me know if y'all have any interest in an epilogue/sequel/etc.

Hope you like it!

"I am the pool of gold when sunset burns and dies

― you are my deepening skies;

give me your stars to hold"

- Sara Teasdale

Ally spends the next hour intermittently calling Austin and pacing, waiting for the knock she knows is coming. At noon, the doorbell rings and she launches herself from the kitchen with a speed and dexterity that she'd applaud herself for, if she weren't so preoccupied with finding Austin. She wrenches open the doorknob, but there's no sign of anyone in the hallway.

There's another vase though, of odd green leafy things, and a rectangular package. She stoops to read the note.

"Filbert: Reconciliation."

If you wanna fly, I will be your sky
Anything you need that's what I'll be.

Ally unwraps the package to find the newest cloud-watching book, and she breathes out a laugh. How fitting. Then she stands up, sets the flowers in the kitchen, sits on the couch, and calls Dez.

"Hello, Ally of Seattle." The greeting is so Dez that Ally can't help but smile.

"I'm not Ally of Seattle yet, Dez." She adjusts the phone against her shoulder. "Listen. I know you know where Austin is. And I know you're involved in this apology or wooing or whatever you want to call it, but I need you to tell me where I can find him."

"No can do, Allybug." Dez's replies promptly. "Love-whisperer-client confidentiality."

"Dez, there's no such thing as love-whisperer-client confidentiality. Is he even paying you?"

Dez's voice is dramatically offended. "I took sacred oaths, Ally! On the pants! Do you know how sacred pants are?"

"But he's being ridiculous." Ally says exasperatedly. "Did he tell you he gave up his contract?"

Dez grows serious. "Are you saying you think that's a bad thing?"

"I-it's ju-No. Honestly, I think it's amazing." She reaches for her mug of coffee, now cold, and takes a sip. "But I can't let him give up his life because of what I think. I mean, think about the fallout, Dez. He's at the prime of his career right now. Celebrity is fickle and fleeting. And he loves performing." She pauses, then repeats it softly. "He loves performing: the stage, the fans, the fame. And I can't let him give up something he loves, just because I don't fit into it."

There's a long silence from Dez's end of the call before he finally responds.

"Have you ever considered that he's found something he loves more?"

Her reply is interrupted by the doorbell.

"Dez, what is this?" She walks towards the door. "It's only been half an hour since the last delivery."

"You'll see." He says, cheerful again. "Gottogobye." Then he hangs up.

Ally stares at the phone for a moment before remembering the bell. She steps into the hallway, to be faced with Trish, carrying intensely bright pink flowers, and a single card.

"You know you live here, right?" Ally quips. "There's that thing called a key?"

Trish sticks her tongue out at Ally. "You know, my arms are so tired. I hope I don't drop these flowers...or this note...into the trash can...where it'll never be read."

Ally wrinkles her nose. "Okay, fine. You win. Just hand 'em over."

Trish walks into the kitchen and sets the vase down. "And I believe this is meant for you." She slides the card across the counter to Ally, who unfolds it with undisguised impatience.

"Dew Plant: serenade."

The next lines are in Austin's handwriting again, but she doesn't recognize the lyrics.

The sun don't shine, the sky ain't blue,

If I can't be with you.

P.S. Look on the back.

In large, scrawling letters across the back of the card, Austin's written FM 102.6.

"TRISH. RADIO." Ally lunges for the stereo as Trish watches amusedly. It's already turned to FM 102.6, and Ally turns the volume up as a familiar voice comes on air.

"And thanks again for having me, Pete." Austin responds politely to the radio host, right before they go to commercial.

He's just finished answering half a dozen questions about the swerve his career has suddenly taken. The decision to drop his contract was spur of the moment, but he doesn't regret it. The second he signed off on the termination, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And now he's free to move in a different direction with his career, his music, his life. It's equal parts terrifying and exhilarating; although, sitting here, minutes before he's supposed to sing, he feels a little like he's going to throw up.

Pete Emerson's been a radio DJ for years, but he's never seen anyone with Austin's background this nervous about a performance.

"A girl?" He waves his empty water bottle in the direction of Austin's sheet music as he gets up to recycle it.

"The girl." Austin's smile is more of a grimace, and his knee shakes nervously as he runs his fingers over his guitar.

Pete smiles at Austin knowingly. "I know the feeling." He pats Austin on the back before he returns to his seat. "Get ready, man."

The lead-in music plays, and then Pete turns to the microphone.

"And we're back on FM 102.6 the Jive, with popstar Austin Moon, who recently made a few decisions that have turned the LA music scene on its head. Now, he's here with an exclusive sneak peek at the first song on his new, independent album. Wanna give our listeners a little bit of background, Austin?"

Austin shifts towards the mic. He's spent two days writing and rewriting and stripping lyrics from old, unfinished songs he and Ally wrote together. And now this is it; the moment of truth.

"I love performing. I love the thrill of being on stage, or the feeling you get when you make a connection with your audience, with your fans." He pauses. "But mostly, I love the music. And I think I lost that for awhile." He glances towards his song, takes a breath and continues. "Someone very important to me helped me realize that. But I was a colossal idiot, and I didn't know how important she was until I let her go. So this song is for her. For her, for us, for second and third and last chances. Ally Dawson, I hope you're listening."

Austin says her name and Ally emits a muffled yelp. She and Trish have pulled up chairs next to the stereo, and she's practically vibrating with tension. Then Austin starts playing, and it's like everything melts away. She's forgotten what it's like to hear his music like this: stripped, acoustic, gutwrenchingly personal. And when his voice cracks on the last line, Ally knows she's already forgiven him.

Austin fidgets in front of the door to Trish's apartment. It's been four hours since he left the radio station, and he hasn't heard from Ally. The blogosphere is buzzing with praise for his new sound, and he's already heard from four separate record companies with lucrative offers. But the only person whose opinion he really needs to hear is sitting in that apartment. So currently, the door in front of him is looking more and more imposing. But then he reminds himself that this is Ally: first and foremost, his best friend. Honest and true and real. And she's worth the fight.

He reaches a hand up to the door, but it swings open just as he knocks, and he ends up tapping Ally on the forehead instead.

She blinks. "Hello to you too." She says wryly, closing the door behind her. "Trish has been watching you pace for twenty minutes. She sent me out here to put you out of your misery."

"Oh."

"So. I heard your song." Her expression is inscrutable as she looks at Austin. "It was good."

Austin meets her steady gaze. "And?"

Something flits through her eyes. "And I'm really proud of you, you know." She smiles at him, and it's the first real smile he's seen from her in months, and it breaks him.

"Ally." His voice is hoarse. "I am so, so sorry for what I've put you through for these past few months."

She holds up a hand. "I forgave you."

He stares at her. "What?"

"That song was amazing. But I think I forgave you the second I saw that contract."

Austin's shoulders ease. "Well I'll be damned."

"But that doesn't change anything." Ally says quietly.

Austin feels his heart sink again. "What do you mean?"

"Well for one, I'm still moving." She pauses. "And I'm still in love with you. And you... you're in something with me, but that's not enough, Austin. I know it's a lot to ask. A lot to expect. But Austin, love is transitive. It's give and take and push and pull and I can't be just another girl to you, because you're not just another boy to 're my best friend. And selfishly, I couldn't handle losing you when you inevitably decide that you decide I'm not who you want." She reaches for his hand, twines her fingers in his, and lifts herself up to kiss his cheek. "I'll miss you, Austin."

She's reaching for the door when his voice stops her in her tracks.

"I love you."

She turns.

"Austin."

"No, I do." His words are a desperate rush as he reaches for her. "I can't forget us, Ally. I can't forget the way you taste or the way you feel or the way we fit together. I close my eyes and the world is pickles and pancakes, cloudwatching and feeding the geese and duets together, even when we're ninety-two. It's the way you dance and the way you smile and the way singing with you makes me feel invincible." Ally's eyes are glossed with tears as he pulls her close, leaning his forehead against hers. "I breathe you in and everything else fades away. You are colors and sunshine and laughter and god, every time I look at you, it's like remembering the words to a song I didn't even know I knew." His voice trails. "And thinking about losing you is like burnt pancakes and broken harmonies and lost voices, all in one. Because Ally, you? Us? This is the song I want to sing for the rest of my life."

Austin stops to take a breath, and remembers something else. "And I have one more note for you." He reaches into his back pocket for a crumpled envelope and hands it to Ally.

She unfolds the well-worn note tucked inside, knowing what it is before she even sees the writing.

There's no way I could make it without you.

But underneath, Austin's added two more lines.

Do it without you.

Be here without you.

"What...?"

"Check the envelope again." Austin says gently.

Ally unfolds the two pieces of paper inside.

"These ar-These are Bruno Mars tickets." She says, looking up at Austin.

"Check the city." He points to the middle of the ticket.

"Seattle." She breathes. "Wha-Austin, what is this? Are you telling me to take someone else? I don't understand, after everything you just said, I was going to give us a chance because it was actually the most adorable thing I've ever heard and I really really love you and I don't want to take someone else to a Bruno Mars concert what if I don't make any friends in Seattle and I have to take a stranger, what about stranger danger, Austin? Or what if I have to take that one coworker that I really hate because no one else wants to go with me, or what if-"

He interrupts her rambling. "It just so happens-" He says, grinning, "that I will be in the city on that day. And everyday. Turns out, Seattle's got a pretty great music scene. Cute songwriters too, I hear."

Ally gapes at him.

Austin chuckles at her confusion. "So all that's really left is this."

He gets down on one knee. "Ally Dawson." He begins seriously, with laughing eyes. "Ally Evangeline Dawson."

Ally lets out a teary laugh. "Not my middle name, Austin."

Austin ignores her and continues. "Will you..." He pauses dramatically. "go." She hits him when he pauses again. "Ow! Ally! Fine. Will you, Allyson Chrysanthemum Dawson, go on a date with me?"

Ally beams at him, eyes sparkling. "Of course, Austin Monica Moon. I'd be delighted."

He whoops and grabs her around the waist, spinning her in the air. As Austin sets her down, Ally leans up into him. When her lips are a breath away from his, she stops. "Still not my middle name, Austin." she whispers.

He nuzzles her nose with his. "Well, I've got a lifetime to figure it out."

Ooooh boy. this was a doozy. The plots that pull you out of hiatus. Seriously.