A/N: Years of hiatus, and a Disney Channel show brings me back. Oy. Probably will be a three-parter.

Even after all this time,

the Sun never says to the Earth,

"you owe me."

Look what happens with a love like that.

It lights the whole sky.

-Hafiz

"What are you doing?"

Ally looks up, startled, to see Austin standing in the doorway of her apartment. It's been weeks since she's last seen him, and she can't remember the last time they've really talked. He's had a key to her apartment since her first year of college, when they were both at UCLA and he practically lived on her couch; days when they got by on dreams and boxed mac-and-cheese, the occasional gig and late-night videochats with Trish and Dez. Then, their junior year, the right producer was at a coffeehouse performance he did, and Austin's career exploded. He's been touring and hobnobbing and networking, a three-year streak as the darling of the LA music scene, and Ally's so proud of what he's accomplished: but she can't remember the last time they were just AustinandAlly without themanagerandthestudioandtherecordcompanyandAustin Moonthecelebrity.

Trish is at Columbia Law and Dez is producing his first movie and they've been dating for three years (who saw that coming?), and Ally's been writing songs and finishing her Master's degree in composition. Team Austin's spread across the country, and sometimes she misses the simplicity of Sonic Boom and the practice room. She and Trish talk every other day, and she's writing the score for Dez's new film, but she doesn't understand where she fits in the context of Austin's life anymore. And that, more than anything, terrifies her.

A year after that first big break, Austin ditches a songwriting session. One becomes two, and then five, six, all of them: for premiere parties and dates and publicity stunts. For awhile, Ally tries to grow in the direction of Austin's career: the high heels and saccharine compliments, late nights at Hollywood parties, petty gossip and cocktail deceptions. But it gets old fast, the lying and misery and facades, and she brings back the cloud watching and pickles and bright prints. She hopes for months that it's just a phase in Austin's life; that any day, he'll will come walking through her door with his sunshine smile and pickles, and it'll be like nothing's changed. Then the missed sessions turns to dropped calls and retroactive excuses, to radio silence and a glacial drift: two years after he catches that big break, Ally finds herself reading magazines to catch up on his life, and her heart stutters to a stop. She calls Trish in tears. Her best friend, voice crackling over the phone, is sympathetically blunt.

"He's not your Austin anymore, Ally. And you can't drive yourself crazy trying to fit yourself into his life when he's already left yours. It might be time to let him go."

And then comes the job offer. There's a record company in Seattle that she's done some freelance work for, and they're looking for a new head songwriter. They do a lot of work with New York, so she'd be able to visit Trish and Dez more regularly. Plus, LA's been stifling lately, and everywhere she looks she sees Austin: on billboards, in commercials, on buses and posters. Everywhere but in person. But still, something holds her back. She agonizes over the job for weeks; talks to her dad ("Hon, I'll be happy as long as you're happy."), her mom ("Ally, you can't let Austin define your life. Let yourself grow without him."), Trish ("NEW YORK. DID YOU SAY NEW YORK."), and Dez ("Follow the music, Ally. Follow your heart. And follow the ducks.") Dez's advice (bar the latter half) hits her the hardest. She calls Austin, too, to get his opinion, but instead she gets his voicemail. she leaves a message and waits on tenterhooks for a reply, but she doesn't get one. Two weeks later, he forgets to call on her birthday.

Ally takes the job.

She's jolted back when Austin speaks again, and she realizes he's standing in front of her, lifting books out of an open box.

"Are you... Are you packing? Ally, what's going on?"

The room is covered in boxes of sheet music and clothes, and her piano is in the process of being padded for storage.

"I... yeah. I got a job offer with a studio in Seattle. I'm leaving in a week."

She winces as Austin drops Pride and Prejudice. The thump of the book hitting the floor echoes around the apartment, cutting through a silence rife with tension.

Ally takes a moment to ready herself for the confrontation at hand.

"Austin, that was a second edition. You should know. You got it for me last Christmas. Probably worth more than this apartment." Her tone is lightly conversational, but her hands tremble as she picks it up, smoothing a palm over the cover.

Austin's jaw tightens and he whooshes out a breath. "What the hell, Ally. I thought we were friends. Best friends. When were you going to tell me you were moving? Were you even going to tell me? What kind of friendship is that?"

Ally bristles as she stands, brushing dust off her jeans. "When should I have told you? When you picked up one of my hundred calls? During a songwriting session? After one of your sixty zillion Hollywood parties? Between Courtney and Campbell and Olivia and Shannon? Let's be honest. You left this friendship first. Why are you even here?"

"I was in France for the second leg of the tour on your birthday. I brought you your present. I thought-I thought we could talk. Like old times."

Ally blinks back tears. "Too little, too late Austin. I'm leaving on Monday. I can't do this anymore."

Austin's words are angry and pleading. "What happened to always being there when I needed you?"

Ally's voice is tired as she replies. "I'll always be here if you need me. But I won't devalue myself by staying where you don't want me."

Austin begins pacing the room. He runs a hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds Ally achingly of his younger self. She reflexively moves to fix his hair, stopping herself at the last moment.

Austin halts in front of her. "What about my album? Our songs?"

Ally brings herself back to focus, glancing briefly in Austin's direction before reaching towards her bag. "I'll leave my songbook for you; there should be enough for the first few tracks of your new album, and I know you've got other songwriters already lined up."

Austin guiltily reddens, stammering for a moment. "Ally, I never-I wasn't going to-It was the labe-H-How did you know?"

She sighs as she turns to him. "I'm your writing partner, Austin. Your manager remembers that, even if you don't. Hank told me you were thinking about moving in a new direction. Nothing personal." She laughs wryly. "That was two months ago. I kept waiting for you to bring it up. You never did."

Austin opens his mouth to protest, but the words catch in his throat as Ally slips her songbook into his hands. Startled, he stares at the book in his hands until she speaks again.

"I'm done, Austin. I didn't sign up for this. I can't watch you throw your life away in a blaze of parties and hookups and empty promises. I miss you. I miss you and I'm sitting in front of you right now, but you're already gone."

Ally stops to take a breath, a sob catching in her throat. Austin catches himself thinking that it's unfair, unfair of this girl to be so terribly beautiful when he has to watch her walk away.

Ally continues quietly. "I miss the way you'd look at me, 2 A.M. with the perfect lyrics. I miss your smile, your laugh, honest and real and true. I miss Friday pickles and Saturday pancakes and the way you'd come watch clouds with me, even when you thought it was ridiculous. I miss feeding the ducks, and our park bench, and I miss the way you say my name. But mostly, I miss being your best friend."

She walks towards the piano, and Austin follows close behind. He reaches out, pulling her back to meet his steady gaze, simultaneously bewildered and exasperated.

"Ally, where is this coming from? What are you even talking about? What happened? We're in this together; we've always been in this together. You write, I rock. Remember? Since the corn dog days."

Her eyes soften as she looks at this boy: heartbreakingly handsome, jaded, still and guarded, so different from the teenager she'd met five years ago. He's almost an adult, they both are, but somewhere underneath the clever quips and glib laughter is a boy all grown up without knowing how he got there.

He takes a tentative step towards her and brushes a thumb against her wrist, the touch as light as a feather, sending a frisson of heat to the tips of her fingers. She lets herself bask in his closeness for a moment, in the familiarity of his touch and the safety of his hold. Encouraged, he pulls her closer, and she bites back tears as she steels herself to back away.

"Let me go, Austin."

Austin's arms tighten around her waist as he lets out a frustrated breath. "Just tell me why. Tell me what I did, what I can do to fix this. Help me understand, Ally."

The defeat in her voice makes Austin loosen his hold. "Life happened. We grew up. I watched you become someone I didn't recognize, watched as you pulled away. I saw myself try to change for you, for this world of yours I wanted so badly to belong to." She swallows, brushing a tear from her cheek as she steps away. "Because, Austin Monica Moon, I am hopelessly, exhaustingly, terribly in love with you. And I can't remember a time when I wasn't."

A few long minutes pass as Ally waits: for what, she doesn't know. She does know that his expression is vaguely reminiscent of a deer in headlights, and it would be patently hilarious if it wasn't right now: this moment, in response to these words. She turns to neaten a stack of sheet music, casting her eyes down to avoid his.

"I'm sorry for dropping this on you. I know it's awkward and heavy. I know it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now. And you shouldn't... I don't know. You don't have to say anything. But if I'm being honest with myself, that's part of the reason I'm leaving. But mostly, I'm leaving for me. So I can finally figure out how to exist without you, because you've already left, and I can't cling to a memory, Austin. I can't wait for you to come back anymore. I can't watch you forget what we worked for. I can't watch you forget the music."

She slips her coat on and closes the lid of the piano. Austin notes absently that he's always thought that nobody should make Ally cry, not ever. There goes another promise he didn't even know he'd broken. Ally tucks a piece of paper into his hand and slides her bag over one shoulder.

"What can I do to make you stay?"

"Nothing, Austin. Not now." She turns towards the door. "Let yourself out, please? I have to go."

In desperation, Austin reaches for her: not sure what to do yet, not aware why, but certain in the knowledge that everything'll be simpler, easier, if he can just hold her close and keep her there for a little while longer. She turns as he curves an arm around her waist, and stumbles into his chest. Ally looks up at Austin, wide-eyed and momentarily unguarded, and he curses under his breath before his hands tangle in her hair and he kisses her, long and sweet and slow. She kisses him back for a few seconds. It's a kiss full of love and longing and loss and it is the sweetest kiss that Austin's ever had. Then she steps from the circle of his arms and Austin is left with aching clarity, an understanding of how much she loves him. How much she's given up for him. He stands, still and stunned, momentarily paralyzed with the realization that he is in love with Ally Dawson. In love with the girl turning away from him with tears and a smile: a smile of heartbreak, of weary acceptance, and a wealth of love.

"I love you, Austin Moon."

And she walks out the door.

Austin stares dumbly after her. It's not until he remembers the note in his hand that he regains mobility. He unfolds the paper with shaking hands.

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

He crumples it in his palm.

"Fuck." he whispers.

Next up: Austin finally gets his head screwed on straight. But will he be able convince Ally that he loves her, or is it really too little, too late?