"Maman, Papa, I am sorry that I have not been to visit you for quite some time," began Amelia, trailing her fingers down the headstones of her parents' graves. It was Saturday, and it had dawned clear and bright. The Cullens had been unable to accompany Amelia to the graveyard that day as a result, something which according to Alice, was more than alright with her. Peter had volunteered to take his god-daughter to visit her parents' graves. Not wanting to intrude, Simon, Ariané and the others had gone earlier to pay their respects. It was a tradition that they had kept up for the past thirteen years.
"I cannot believe that it has been thirteen years since you-" Amelia struggled to get the right words, tearing up as she did so,"- left. I miss you both so much."
Peter held her close to him as she mourned her biological parents, grieved their loss which felt just as acute as that fateful day thirteen years ago.
"Both of them would be so proud of you, Sixty Five," he commented, awkwardly patting her back.
"You think so?" Amelia queried softly.
"I know so," he promised. They did not linger for too long, as it was cold outside and no one wanted Amelia to catch a cold. The plots that held Amelia's parents' coffins were left with fresh roses and flowers adorning them, a symbol that someone who loved them deeply still cared enough to visit. Peter often came to visit them. Abigail had been his best friend, and he got on very well with Christopher. As a younger man, he often third-wheeled with them, and later on, loved to accompany his young goddaughter on her adventures. He had been heartbroken when the system ruled against him and he was unable to look after Amelia.
"Uncle Pete?" Amelia's voice was shaky as the pair slowly made their way back to Amelia's childhood home.
"Yes sweetheart?"
"What really happened that night?"
Peter took a deep breath and led Amelia over to a bench. The pair sat down. This was a moment that he had hoped to avoid, but she deserved to know the truth.
"How much do you remember, or have learned, about that night?" he queried, almost certain that Amelia had done some research of her own. It had made the newspapers at the time, and the Benaroya Trust did a fair amount of advertising for the benefit concert each year, which always included a few lines about how the scholarship came about. Surely she knew what had happened? His thoughts were confirmed a few moments later.
"Just that they were killed by a drunk driver. Mom died on impact, Dad died two days later."
"The drunk driver's blood alcohol was triple the legal limit. How he even managed to get into his car..." he trailed off, recalling the night that he received the phone call that had changed his god-daughter's life.
"Did you sign off the forms that withdrew all extreme life-saving measures? A Do Not Resuscitate form?" Amelia's voice broke through his quiet contemplation. At Peter's stunned glance, she elaborated, "I recall a lot about that night. I remember going to see Maman, she was so cold. Papa was very ill. I remember being chased out of the room when the machines started making noises, which I realise now is a flat-line."
"Yes, I did," he confirmed, and turned his head away, unable to look at the pained expression that he was almost sure would cross Amelia's face. Her next words sent him reeling in shock.
"Thank you." It was a little louder than a whisper, but spoken with clarity and a hint of gratitude.
"You're thanking me for essentially killing your father?!" he exclaimed. For years, his decision had haunted him.
"You did not kill-"
"My signature took away your only surviving parent, it orphaned you. In the space of two days, you lost both of your parents," he cut her off.
"I do not need a medical degree to tell me that Papa's injuries were life-threatening, that if he had survived at all, he would never have recovered fully. The father I knew for three years would not have liked that. With the traumatic brain injuries that he sustained, you spared him a lifetime of suffering, however long or short that lifetime would have been. Thank you for that."
"Amelia, you suffered because of me," Peter's voice sounded so broken.
"Peter, this is not your fault. The courts would not allow me to live with you for reasons I will never fully understand."
"I should have tried harder."
"Knowing you, you tried your darn best to convince them otherwise. There was nothing you could have done to help me."
"But you got hurt."
"So? That is in the past. I have a family now, and fate had brought us together again. Uncle Peter, I do not have much time left and I do not want to spend that time fighting you on this point. If you are asking for my forgiveness, there is nothing to forgive. You did what was right for Papa."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I would want someone to do that for me; because if I were going to live out the rest of my life suffering the way Papa would have, I would want someone to sign those forms for me."
"You're suffering now, Amelia."
There was silence as Amelia's face fell. Peter knew that he had touched a raw nerve, but he was also determined to make the teenager understand why he felt so guilty. Amelia on the other hand knew that Alice would see this, and would relay the information to her family.
"After seven years' worth of foster homes and five of a group home, I think I earned the right to enjoy being a much-loved member of a family. I have not even been in Forks for two months, for crying out loud. Besides," she paused and cringed internally, "I can't do that to my family. I cannot leave them just yet."
"Applying the same logic you used earlier, you are going to make them watch you suffer."
"Fair enough. But I cannot bear to hurt my family by making an early exit. My mom would be heart broken. There is only so much that I can do the speed up the dying process, short of doing something dramatic like taking my own life."
"How much are you hurting them by making them watch you suffer?" came the cryptic response.
"When the end arrives, it will be quick and Dad will make sure that it is painless."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I can't, but I can hope. I'm removing my feeding tube soon, slowly start withdrawing the meds. All it will take is an infection or another bleed and I'm toast."
"I'll give a speech at your funeral," he promised.
"Oh please, none of that," she rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs.
"Do you now understand how I feel?"
"Carrying all that guilt around is pointless, Peter Whyte. Please forgive yourself."
"I'll try, Titch."
"I'm hungry."
Peter let out a snort of laughter. "I love you too."
---
"One last time, please. I want to iron out that introduction," stated Simon. Amelia lifted her violin and began to play the first few notes to the violin concerto, leading the orchestra into it with her usual graceful manner of playing. The double bass and cellos softly joined in, then the rest of the strings section until a handful of woodwinds broke through, before the entire orchestra finally joined in with gusto.
They were rehearsing in the actual hall this time, not the backstage rehearsal room. It was their final dress rehearsal before the evening events, and already some guests were starting to arrive. Simon had wanted to familiarise the three prize winners with the stage set up. The silver medal saxophonist and the bronze medal trombonist were seated in their respective sections, as thrilled as Amelia was to be afforded the opportunity to play with the philharmonic orchestra.
"Lovely," he declared some nine minutes later when the piece drew to its sudden end. Amelia's favourite part was when she and Benjamin shared a brief duet just after the three minute mark, violin and bassoon playing in harmony and stealing the listener's attention while the rest of the orchestra almost seemed to fade into the background.
"Alright guys. Take a break and get dressed. Remember, there will be-"
"A lot of publicity tonight," chorused the orchestra. Simon rolled his eyes.
"Exactly, so no horsing around. That means no random piggy back rides. Yes Peter, Valerie, I am looking at you. No using your bows as weapons either or hiding anyone's reeds. Remember, as far as anyone knows, we are a nice, normal orchestra who behaves."
"Face it Simon, we are all nuts," called Cassandra.
"Cass, please stay away from the piano tonight. I don't even want to know what you have up your sleeve, but no running around the stage wearing the piano cover like you did last week."
"Oh come on Simon, lighten up. Besides, Valerie dared me to do it."
"Next time, pick the cover from one of the upright pianos from the rehearsal rooms, not the cover of the Steinway," Simon threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Don't forget your bowtie, Simon!" called Valerie, an impish smile crossing her features. Simon made a rude gesture with his hands. Valerie blew him a kiss before their conductor stomped off to change.
"Seriously though, please can we try to act like mature adults tonight?" spoke Peter, "we all know how much this concert means to him."
---
"You are going to look stunning in that dress, Mia. Do you need some help with your makeup?" asked Valerie as the pair left the stage to go and change into their concert dresses.
"Alice said that she will put a little bit on for me."
"Good. You'll be in a lot of photos tonight."
"We totally need to take a photo together."
"Definitely," agreed Valerie, setting down her dress in the rest room and digging through her bag for some makeup. She glanced up when she saw Alice and Esme enter the room as well, "hey guys."
"Hello Valerie," chorused Esme and Alice, smiling at the cellist who had befriended Amelia. At Amelia's request, they had not put too much makeup on, just enough to hide the dark circles under her eyes and a touch of lip gloss. Esme helped ease Amelia into her dress while Alice zipped up Valerie's midnight blue dress. A tattoo of an owl outlined in black ink on Valerie's shoulder peeked out over the top of her dress. Alice then did Amelia's hair quickly, sliding in a few clips to hold the stray bits of hair in place.
"Smile!" called Esme, holding up her camera. The duo eagerly grinned back before exiting the change room to greet the rest of Amelia's family. Everyone looked very smart in their dresses and suits, and Renesmee looked particularly adorable. To Amelia's glee, Jemima had been brought along for the trip and was currently sitting in Emmett's arms, glowering at Alice, who had wrestled her into what Amelia could best describe as some sort of canine dress. To say the Scottie was unimpressed was an understatement. A dog at the concert hall, whatever next?
---
Author's Note
Here is a picture of Amelia's dress for the concert that Carlisle found for her. I think that is really pretty, although I would prefer it if it were longer. For the purpose of this story, just pretend that it is floor-length ;)