Thank you so much to everyone who's read this story and stuck around with us for this ride. We really appreciate all of your support and encouraging comments. This is the end, can you believe it? Don't worry, though, a sequal is in works. Make sure you follow both of us (VictoriousGurl and Hollywoodx4) so you can get the first chapter of the sequal in your inboxes when it's posted. Again, thank you so much, we couldn't have done any of this without you.

Love,

Hollywoodx4 and VictoriousGurl

Disclaimer: 31 chapters later and we still have to go through this?

They arrived to a room filled with tiger lilies and hibiscus flowers. There was soft music playing, and even the room smelt of death. Tori's heels sunk into the outdated burgundy carpet, and she shivered as the air conditioner blew more stale air into the room. She followed the line she knew so many would that day, finally reaching her daughter's tiny casket. It was dark wood with a pale pink inner lining, and tiny carved hearts adorned its shell. She knelt on the stool in front of the casket and cried, not even looking at the daughter she had known for so little time. When she finally looked at her cold, lifeless form, she broke down again. Reaching for a tissue in the nearby box of Kleenex, she hadn't realized that another form had come early to mourn, and had knelt beside her on the stool. He cautiously wrapped an arm around her shaking body, and she responded by burying her head into his chest. He was still numb, and looked at his daughter in despair. Still, no tears dared venture from his eyes. He would be strong.

They sat like that for a while, neither wanting to tear their eyes from the horrifying yet beautiful sight that was Evelyn Oliver.

The first of the crowd finally arrived at one o'clock, and Robbie and Cat knelt side by side on the bench. Cat tenderly stroked Evie's arm and Robbie did the same with her back. Both give her all too tiny hand a kiss before walking toward the receiving line, consisting of myself, Beck, Tori's parents, and his dad. She hugged Tori tight, crying into her shoulder. Robbie hugged her too, and the once shy boy grabbed her hand and said;

"I'm so sorry about this Tor. I don't know anybody who deserves this, but if anyone does it's definitely not you guys." It was a short sentence, but from him it held a lot of meaning to her. The whole day was spent like this, and it turned out to be an exhausting occasion. Person after person came through the line, and Tori had to stand there and listen to the same chorus of 'oh, I'm so sorry' and 'it's terrible, really.' By the time the line started to die down, the sky was a dusty grey, transitioning from day to night. Cold air blew through the door as the last of their friends left, and the pair was given one last moment to say goodbye before the next day's burial.

Beck was the first to move, and when he didn't feel Tori following him, he turned back to her and held out his hand for her to take. It wasn't a romantic gesture; the two were barely back on speaking terms; but one from one aching heart to the other. She accepted his hand and they slowly made their way back to the padded bench. It was a cozy fit, but they knelt together and stared at their gift, neither wanting to forget; even if the memories were painful. Finally, Tori gave her daughter one last kiss and got up from the stool, Beck following shortly behind her. As they walked out of the funeral home together, Beck stopped her.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get some coffee or something. You know, as friends. I miss talking to you." She contemplated his offer and for a while the pair just stood there, both unsure of what to say if anything should be said at all.

"That sounds nice." They got into their separate cars and met at a small café they liked; one that had housed their first date. A bell clinked as they opened the door and they headed for a small circular table near the back. The walls were the color of light mocha, and it seemed as though the smell of the shop came from the wall's color instead of the steady hum of the latte machine. The two made small talk until they got their coffee, then sipped lightly as the talk became more frequent.

"Remember the man who was in the nicu with us that day? The man with the quadruplets?" She asked, stirring her coffee as she added another package of sugar.

"Vaguely, why?"

"I'm babysitting for him next Tuesday. He called me for this Tuesday, but it was too hard with everything that was going on with Evie." She seemed to brighten at this fact, and it made him happy to see a vague smile plant itself on her face.

"Really? That's great of you. The poor guy has it tough."

"Yeah." Their talk gradually declined as the night went on, and by the time they had finished and paid for their coffee, the moon was much higher in the sky.

"Thanks for giving me a chance, Tori. I'll see you tomorrow." Beck hugged her and the two got back in their separate cars, marveling at how strange it was to do it.

The next day was uncharacteristically sunny, which made Tori roll over in her bed in anger. She drew the shade to conserve the remaining time she had to sleep, but her efforts were wasted, and she finally drug herself out of bed. She had finally awakened after a steaming shower, and toweled her hair wait a new confidence in the world. That was until she noticed the long black dress that hung from the hook next to the shower. Grimacing, she shook off her despair before it could deepen and plastered a neutral look onto her face. When she had finally prepared herself, she got back into her car and drove to the large stone church that would hold her daughter's service.

"Please let God accept this young girl, even at her untimely death. We trust that she is in His arms now, safe at home. Next, we will be having a word from Evelyn's mother, Miss Tori Vega." Tori rose from her seat at the priest's words and slowly made her way to the altar. The white piece of paper in her hand shook as she placed it in front of her, and she cleared her throat before reading.

"Evelyn was nothing but a gift to us. Even from birth, we all knew she would be someone special. She was born a fighter, struggling for life in her incubator in the nicu, and she died a fighter, losing the same fight we had thought she had been winning. When we talked about Evelyn, most people told me that she would grow up to do great things. Well, she didn't have to grow up to do great things. Evelyn taught me to value life, no matter its length. To me, she had a passion for life that would only grow as time passed. Even though I only got to spend a short few months with her, I would want her to know that she was deeply loved, and will be forever missed. Thank you."

Pink flowers were thrown on her tiny coffin, and tears were shed as she was lowered into her grave. There was not a dry eye as the procession let a multitude of pale pink balloons float free into the sky, symbolizing their little girl's ascent to Heaven. When all was said and done, a single rose was placed on the heart shaped tombstone dedicated to the life that changed many more to come.

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