Disclaimer: I don't own Your Song or A Bird Without Wings.

Note: Well, here you go: a rollercoaster of a chapter. I'll have the final chapter up next week!

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

"How are you feeling today?" Cameron asked gently.

"Alright," Damian snuggled deeper under the blanket. "My head hurts a bit."

"Want me to make some tea?" Cameron found his slippers under the bed and put them on.

"No," Damian gave him a half-smile. "The doctor said to avoid caffeine."

"Perhaps something else?" Cameron offered.

"Nah, I'll be fine," Damian pulled his knees to his chest. "Having you back again is already making me feel better. I'd almost forgotten how it felt to sleep next to you."

"And how does it feel?" Cameron lingered in the doorway.

"It feels incredible. I feel safe and warm and protected," Damian said. "I feel loved."

"Because you are loved," Cameron grinned. "And I will protect you."

"I know you will," Damian dropped his chin to rest on his knees. "And I know you do."

"Stay right there," Cameron told him. "I'll be right back, promise." He ran to the bathroom, did his business, and ran back to the bedroom. Damian was in the same position that he was when he'd left. He blinked up at Cameron with those big, blue puppy-dog eyes of his. "I'm back."

"I can see that," Damian chuckled.

"Well, I have some news for you," Cameron sat on the edge of the bed.

"Oh no," Damian closed his eyes and groaned.

"No, it's a good one," Cameron assured him. "So…we can afford a house now."

"What?" Damian lifted his head. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as can be," Cameron nodded.

"Oh my God!" Damian leapt and tackled Cameron, nearly knocking them both off the bed. "Oh my God, a real house! An actual, real, true house!"

"Yes, Damo," Cameron held him close. "A real house."

"I love you," Damian murmured.

Cameron could feel and see everything in that moment. He could hear Damian's heart beating. He could feel Damian's breathing, even and steady. He could see Damian's long, long eyelashes, baby-blue eyes peeking out from underneath them. He could see Damian's pulse throbbing in his throat. He could feel the love radiating from Damian's entire being, and he just wanted to capture that moment forever.

Four months later

"Oh my God," Damian stood in the living room of his and Cameron's new house and spread his arms open wide. "Hello!" He reveled in the big, open space. He loved every inch of their home. He loved the hardwood floors. He loved the big windows, especially the bay window in their living room and the window with the little window seat in their guest bedroom (two bedrooms! Damian thought. Two!). He loved all the separate rooms and the stairs that curved upwards. He loved the king-sized bed in his and Cameron's bedroom. He loved having room to spare for his clothes and books. He loved that Cameron got a room for his recording equipment and instruments. He loved having a real kitchen to cook their meals in. But most of all, he loved that it was his and Cameron's. His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone ringing loudly. He answered it. "Hullo?"

"Damian, love," his mother's voice came through. "I…your father…"

Damian felt his stomach turn to ice. "What's happened, mummy?"

"He had a massive heart attack," he could tell she was crying, "and we're not sure if he'll be able to pull through this. You've got to come home…if you want…I know it's been years since you and he last spoke, but…" she trailed off.

"No worries, Mum. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up the phone and let it fall to the couch next to him. "Oh, God," he collapsed to his knees.

"Damian, what is it?" Cameron rushed to his side. "What's wrong?"

"My dad might be dying," Damian whispered.

"But your dad disowned you several years ago," Cameron said confusedly.

"But he still gave me life," Damian reasoned. "And my Mum is terribly upset. I've got to go back home…just for a week or so…"

"I'll come with you," Cameron stood up.

"No," Damian shook his head. "You don't have to…I've got to face him myself."

"But what if he doesn't make it? You'll want me there," Cameron explained.

Damian heaved a sigh. "Very well. But please, don't come to the hospital with me. I don't want to upset him any further by you being there, too."

"Fine," Cameron nodded. "I'll book our tickets right now." Hardly six hours later, they were on a flight bound to Ireland. "Are you okay?"

"No," Damian gripped the armrests tightly. "One, I hate flying. Two, my father is dying. And three, I haven't spoken to my father since I was sixteen."

"Shh," Cameron soothed him with a kiss to the temple. "Just…breathe, okay? I'm right here. You're not flying alone. You're with me. And you have Poggles in your bag."

"I need him," Damian whispered, face white with all kinds of fear.

"Okay, okay," Cameron reached into Damian's bag and brought out the worn-out teddy bear. "Here. Poggles will make it all better." Damian clutched the comforting animal for dear life, burying his nose in its head. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," Damian murmured, voice muffled by the stuffed bear.

"Alright. We can just sit, then," Cameron leaned back, eyes worried but ever-trained on Damian, watching looks of panic flit across the younger boy's face. He had a feeling that Damian's father would never truly accept him, but nevertheless prayed that, on his deathbed, he may forgive Damian and reclaim him as his son again.

Several long, tense hours later, they disembarked the plane and headed straight for the hospital. Damian ran straight into his sister's arms. "Gemma," he cried.

"He's barely hanging on," she held him tight.

"I want to see him," he said bravely. "I know he probably won't want me to be there, but I want to be there."

"Okay," she sniffled. "I'll bring you upstairs."

"I'll just wait in the cafeteria," Cameron nodded at Gemma. She gave him a curious look, but led her younger brother to their father's room.

"Dad?" Damian entered the room, a chill shooting up his spine. "Daddy?"

"He's not responsive," his mother told him. "Oh, my darling," she folded her son into her arms. "I'm so glad you've come home."

"So…is he going to wake up?" Damian's eyes were full of worry and dread.

"Most likely not," Joanne choked back a sob.

Damian closed his eyes. "Now he'll never forgive me. He'll never accept me as his son."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she reached into her purse. "I found this in his dresser. It had your name on it." She handed the white envelope to Damian. He reached inside and took out the letter, reading it with tears progressively rolling down his cheeks.

To my son, Damian:

Your mother informs me that at this moment, you are lying in a coma due to a car crash brought on by bad weather. She states that you will be okay, most likely, but she has flown to America just now to ensure that you will be. I will admit, I am not fond of the idea of homosexuality. And, admittedly, I am not particularly fond of the fact that you are—legally—married to another man. But then I stop to look back on how wonderful you were as a child, and how much I truly missed you when you were studying abroad. Perhaps it was a rash decision to throw you out of the house. While I do not agree with your…err, lifestyle…nothing changes the fact that I helped to create you nearly twenty-one years ago. If you'd allow me to, I would like to try and mend our relationship to the best of my ability, and I shall try not to let my religious views and upbringing stand in the way of things. I pray that you will awake soon. God be with you, my son.

-Your father

"I can't…be…lie…ve…it…" Damian sobbed. "He l…l…loves m…m…me again."

His mother and siblings were sobbing along with him. "I'm so sorry he never got to tell you this in person," Joanne apologized.

"Father, I forgive you," Damian held his father's hand. "I forgive you. Please…please wake up so I can tell you that I love you…please…"

They ended up having to pull the plug the next day. Damian sat and held his father's hand as he watched his father's life slip away from them. He wasn't ashamed to cry. He couldn't be ashamed to cry. Besides, Cameron was right there beside him to hold him and make sure he was okay. Damian was numb all throughout the funeral services that followed. It wasn't until he and Cameron were heading back home that Damian showed Cameron the letter his father had written to him. "Do you feel any better?"

"No," Damian mumbled. "And yet…yes."

"At least he tried to make peace with you," Cameron tried to reason.

"I really don't want to talk about this," Damian curled into a ball. "Wake me up when we get to Boston." He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, when in reality, he just didn't want to talk about his father anymore. He just wanted to sleep and forget it all.

Four months later

"Damian, come on. Get out of bed," Cameron pulled the blankets off him. "You can't stay in bed for the rest of your life. You have to get out there and find a job."

"My heart is not in it," Damian grumbled. "I wish to be alone."

"You will get up now," Cameron said firmly. "I'm doing this because I love you, and I'm concerned. Ever since your father passed away," Damian flinched, "you've done nothing but lay in bed—in the dark-and watch TV. I let it slide for the first couple of months, but now it's getting to the point where I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," Damian glared at Cameron, his blue eyes like ice. "Let it go."

"I'm trying to start a family with you, damnit," Cameron hissed. "And I can't even think about having a daughter—heck, even a dog—with you if you're just going to act like this!" He threw his slipper at Damian. "Now get up!"

"Screw you," Damian screamed, lobbing the slipper straight back, where it nearly missed Cameron's head. "Now leave me the fuck alone!"

"Jesus Christ, Damian," Cameron threw his hands up. "I love you, damnit, but I can't stand to see you tear yourself apart on the inside!" He slammed the bedroom door behind him. Damian could hear him stamp down the staircase, slam the front door, start up the car, and speed away down the street. He buried his face into his pillow and screamed until it felt as if his lungs were on fire.

Cameron came back an hour later, Damian's friend from college in tow. "Help him," he pleaded her, bringing her upstairs to his bedroom.

"But I don't understand," she began to say. "Why me? Why not you?"

"Are you not the one with the degree in psychology?"

She flushed with pride. "Well, yes, I am…"

"Then please, help him. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"No need," she waved him off. "Damian's a good friend of mine. I couldn't possibly accept anything from you." She knocked on the door. "Damo? It's me. Megan."

A moment later, a muffled "come in," came through. She nodded to Cameron briefly and stepped inside. He could hear them talking in hushed tones. Not wanting to eavesdrop, he went back downstairs and into his music room, hoping to get his mind off of things. An hour flew by before he knew it. Megan came in and startled him.

"Is he okay?" Cameron stood up quickly, nearly tripping over some wires on the floor.

"He's…" she sighed. "He's testing you. He thinks he doesn't deserve you, and he's testing your limits. Yes, he's sad that his father passed away without the two of them having any closure, but he's concerned that you'll up and leave him at any moment."

"I could never," Cameron shook his head fiercely. "I love that man more than life itself."

"He's very insecure," she reminded him. "I think that trauma from not only being kicked out of his house at sixteen, but also, from what happened with Jenna, is still having an impact on his self-esteem. It's not something he's every really gotten over, no matter how much he swears he has."

"Then what do you recommend?" Cameron asked. "I'd do anything to help him," he added softly. "I love him so much…it hurts me to see him like this…"

"He needs to talk to someone," she replied. "Here, here's the number of the practice I'm interning at right now. Ask for Marie. I think she could help him, a lot," she handed him a number scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Thanks," he said from the bottom of his heart.

"He just needs some space," she cast her eyes downwards. "He might be feeling…smothered…by you constantly asking if he's okay. Just give him some time to breathe and to heal. Love him, but don't over-do things."

"Okay," Cameron murmured. "I didn't realize I was being…smothering."

"Damian internalizes things," she explained. "If he throws one of his tantrums again, just let him."

"Let him?" Cameron's eyes widened.

"Let him. It's like when a toddler throws a tantrum. You just have to let them burn off steam, and then they'll settle down. Don't feed into it. Just play along."

"Got it," Cameron twiddled the paper in his fingers. "Well, thanks so much."

"Anything for Damian," she said. They hugged, and Cameron went upstairs.

"Hey," he said casually as he went into the room.

"I'm still mad at you," Damian folded his arms.

"That's okay," Cameron said calmly.

"And I want you to sleep on the couch tonight," Damian tested him.

"Sure," Cameron nodded.

"And I might not talk to you for a day," Damian shifted his eyes. "Maybe two days."

"Very well," Cameron said coolly. They were silent for several moments.

"IS THAT IT?" Damian exploded. "YOU'RE JUST GONNA BE CALM?"

"I thought you weren't talking to me," Cameron smirked knowingly.

"Damnit," Damian smacked the mattress, defeated.

"And you're going to a therapist," Cameron added. "Tomorrow."

"I hate you," Damian spat.

"Love you, too," Cameron said as he left the room, as calmly as he'd entered.

That night, he slept on the couch. He could've slept in the guest room, but he figured he'd just make Damian happy and take a night on the couch. It was nearly two in the morning when he was awakened.

"Cameron?" Damian said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" Cameron rolled over sleepily. "Hey," he smiled softly. He sat up and fumbled for his glasses, finding them on the end table where he'd left them.

Damian knelt at Cameron's feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have said those things to you, Cammie."

"I forgive you," the blonde ruffled his hair affectionately. Damian got up and climbed into Cameron's lap, reminding Cam of a big child.

"I need help," Damian admitted softly.

"And that's why you're going to therapy in the morning," Cameron stroked his cheek. "Because you need help and because I care so much about you that I'd drag you there kicking and screaming. Even if you swore you hated me forever, I'd still do it, because I can't stand to see you self-destruct any longer."

"Thank you," Damian's breath was hot and wet against Cameron's cheek. "I…I love you."

"Love you, too," Cam pressed his forehead to Damian's, kissing him softly.

"You can come back to bed now," Damian smiled deviously. "If you want to."

"Of course I want to," Cameron scooped Damian up in his arms and carried him up the stairs and into their bedroom. If there was one thing Cameron loved more than make-up kisses, it was make-up sex.

Next morning

"I have something for you," Cameron tickled Damian's ribcage.

"What is it?" Damian giggled, sensitive to the touch.

"I wrote this song," Cameron sat up slowly, taking Damian in his arms. "While I was away, seeing the world. And I wrote it for you. I want to play it for you, right now."

"Okay," Damian smiled. He settled back and waited for Cameron to go downstairs and get one of his guitars to play this new song for him.

"Here goes," Cameron said. "It's called 'A Bird Without Wings'." He strummed the opening notes that he'd written down all those months ago, the melody already sounding familiar to him. "Like a bird without wings that longs to be flying. Like a motherless child left lonely and crying. Like a song without words, like a world without music, I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me."

Damian smiled. He already liked this song. He nodded, wanting Cameron to continue.

"I get so lonely when you're away. I count every moment. I wait every day until you're home again and hug me so tight. That's when I know everything is alright."

Damian wiggled his toes happily. He was very, very glad that Cameron had written a song as lovely as this was turning out to be with him in mind.

"Like a bird without wings that longs to be flying. Like a motherless child left lonely and crying. Like a song without words, like a world without music, I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me."

Damian settled back against the pillows. He loved the way Cameron sang with such tenderness, how he cradled the guitar as if it were a child…their own child…

"You're my guardian angel, my light and my guide. Your hand on my shoulder, and you by my side. You make everything beautiful, you make me complete. Everything in my world, I lay at your feet."

"Aww," Damian mouthed. How did he get so lucky to have a husband like Cameron?

"Like a church with no steeple where a bell never rings. In a town without people, where no voice in the choir ever sings. If a boat on the ocean would be lost with no sail, then without your devotion, surely all that I dreamed of would fail."

Damian pressed his hand to his heart. No man on Earth could be happier than he was in that moment, he was sure of it.

"Like a song without words, like a world without music, I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me. I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me."

"So, did you like it?" Cameron pushed his glasses up his nose nervously.

Damian was speechless for a moment or two. "I loved it," he said when he could get his thoughts together. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Cameron squeezed his hand. "And when you get your mind in a better place, we can try to adopt a baby girl, okay?"

"It's a deal," Damian leaned in for a sweet early-morning kiss that tasted of sunshine and undying love.