Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera. Simple as that.

Full Summary: Nothing was right anymore. Her mother was gone. Music had escaped from her. Her dad wasn't making any of it better. But everything changes when a masked man seems to come to her rescue, helping her discover music again. E/C Modern day AU

Insistent Author Ramblings: Well, here it is! My first official fic here or anywhere. The co-written one with Broken-Mask doesn't really count, seeing as I only write every other chapter.

I'd like to give a HUGE hug to my best friend, Dene (Broken-Mask), for being as nitpicky as possible! It was a huge help. Especially with my whole semi-colon obsession. XD;

Before I start, I want to take this chance to tell you that I'm not exactly familiar with England and their talk and what not, so if someone from there would help me out, it would be greatly appreciated!

And now, so as not to keep you lovely folks waiting, I present to you…Awaiting Fate!

- & -

Tearing with hatred, I peered down through aching eyes at the picture of my mother that sat on my lap. Carefully, I traced her facial features with a numb fingertip. The light brown eyes contrasted with her dark hair, which was beautifully falling all around her angel carved face in curls. Mum's cheeks seemed to be kissed with red, blending perfectly with her light colored skin. A soft smile played across her rosy lips, and her neck slanted gracefully, so perfect.

She looked so happy, so glad to be alive. Oh, God, why did you take her from me? She was bound to be with you later, but you just had to have this angel! I suddenly thought of him as greedy, but I shook my head to clear my thoughts. But, why? …Why?

I looked up and stared at the couch from a chair in the shadowed corner, two memories flooding back to me from nine years ago…

I stared down at the casket, wide open, revealing my mother's cold, darkened upper body. Her face was twisted into a frown, her nose scrunched up in the way she always looked at me after I told her a stupid joke. I smiled. I don't know why I did…We were at a funeral. This was no place for smiling. I remember it clearly; the day she died.

Dad was away on a business trip, as usual. He wouldn't be back for another week, so my mum and I decided to have some "girl" time.

Mum had been chasing me around the house, and we were giggling insanely. Finally, she caught me and plunged me down onto the couch in our den, tickling my feet.

"Oh, I think I found a weak spot!" she cried with triumph.

"Nuh-uh!" I protested, giggling, trying to pry her away from me.

"Really? Well, then why are you laughing then, huh?" she retorted, moving her fingers more swiftly over the bottoms of my feet.

I laughed in her face, and she stepped back in surprise. I hopped up and skirted away, into the kitchen, hiding behind our island.

I heard footsteps approaching. I giggled under my breath, but it was just loud enough for Mum to hear me. Suddenly a shadow passed over my head, and I looked up, smiling. She was grinning as she reached over and picked me up by my underarms and putting me on her shoulders. I sighed happily and buried my face in her dark chocolate curls, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

"I love you, Mummy." I whispered.

"I love you too, Lotte." She whispered back, kissing my hands.

She carried me back into the living room, and plopped me back onto the couch. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at me.

"Christine Antoinette Daae!" She preached, an accusing look in her eyes.

I hung my head, pretending to be ashamed.

"You know you're supposed to be doing your homework!"

I sighed. "I know, Mummy, but, haven't you heard the song? All the kids at my school have been singing it!"

She cocked an eyebrow, a stern look still on her face, but just a hint of amusement mixed in.

I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to sing.

"Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream! Throw your teacher overboard and listen to her scream!" I giggled at the ending.

Mum wrinkled her nose and frowned, just like she always did when she head a cruel or unamusing joke.

I closed my eyes, snorted with laughter and fell back on the couch, expecting her to pick me up and stomp me up to my room.

But she didn't.

I waited for what seemed like forever.

But she still didn't.

Instead, I was greeted with a loud THUMP.

I sat bolt upright and snapped my eyes open. My mother lay on the floor, her eyes closed, and her face still in that unamused position.

"M-Mummy?" I choked, "This isn't funny at all!"

She didn't answer me and still lay there, facing our ceiling.

"Mummy! Please! Stop it!" I whimpered, standing up from the couch, trembling.

"MUMMY! NO!" I screamed, rushing to her side. I pressed my cheek to hers, only to feel it freezing against mine. The color had drained from them. She seemed so pale…So…So…D-

No! She wasn't dead! She couldn't be! She couldn't leave me! Not like this!

I sobbed hysterically, bending over her and sprawling myself over her once warm stomach. I lay like that for hours, waiting for her to wake up. She never did.

I must have fallen asleep, as I woke up to shrill ringing in my ears. The phone! Groaning, I shouted for Mum.

"Mum, get that please!"

After a minute, my eyes snapped open with remembrance. Shaking, I turned my head down to see my Mum laying there. It hadn't been a dream!

I rushed to the phone, and my best friend Meg answered.

"Hey, Chrissy! Want to head for the park?" She chirped.

"Meg…My…My…Mum…" I said slowly, my eyes welling up with tears.

"Christine? What's wrong?" She asked, panic entering her voice.

"She's dead, Meg! She's dead!" I wailed, and she hung up the phone.

About 10 minutes later, Amelia Giry, Meg's mother, rushed into my house with paramedics. I ran over to her, sobbing. She stroked my hair and tried to calm me. But I couldn't. My mummy, my dear mummy, was gone forever.

Tears fell silently from my face onto the picture's glass covering, splattering onto Mum's perfectly rosy cheeks. I rubbed them away quickly with my weathered sleeve, frantically, as if not to ruin her beauty.

Just as a fresh batch of tears rolled down my cheeks, my dad slipped into the room. I looked up, my mascara clouding my eyes.

Hastily, I wiped away my tears with my other sleeve, hid the picture under my chair, and stood up, forcing a smile.

"G'morning, Sunshine." I said, swallowing.

Dad's eyes were tired and weary, but he smiled.

"Morning, sweetie. What in the world are you doing up this early?" He asked, yawning.

My eyes widened and I could have screamed. He should have known perfectly well why I was up so early! But, because I was too tired from crying, I decided to play along.

"Early?" I asked, sounding as dumbfounded as I could. Drama class paid off, after all. I looked out our large gaping window and saw that the sun was just rising over the horizon.

"Oh, well, I couldn't sleep and I thought I'd come down here to…To think." I said, choosing my words carefully.

I knew he didn't believe me, but I couldn't let him know about the picture. I kicked it softly to hide the corner of the frame that was sticking out from under the draped upholstery. He had taken almost every picture of Mum and hidden them somewhere, no doubt in his room. I hadn't been in there for so long, so I wouldn't know.

Straightening my nightgown, I stood up and hurried past him and into the kitchen, still trying to clear my eyes by blinking furiously.

"Breakfast?" I asked, starting to take out eggs and strips of raw bacon from the refrigerator.

Dad smiled at me again, walked over and kissed me gently on the forehead, sat at the table, and started to read the morning paper that I had picked up earlier when the paperboy came. I blinked and stared blankly at the floor in wonderment. I had been up early.

As he continued to read whether it would rain tomorrow or not, I made breakfast slowly and nearly burnt the eggs, lost in thought.

"OW!" I screeched, flinging my hand away from the burning hot skillet. Flames were licking out from under it, threatening anything flammable in its way.

"Damn stove." I muttered, turning down the heat while Dad wet a cloth with cool water and wrapped it around my now lightly scorched palm. His hands lingered there until I hastily pulled away, continuing on with breakfast.

Finally I finished without another accident, and sat a plate stacked tall with food in front of him and another plate with nothing but a strip of bacon on it in front of me. He looked up from the newspaper and his eyes widened with concern. I kept my gaze on the table, prodding my food with a fork.

There was silence for several moments, which I had absolutely no problem with. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Not today. Not on the anniversary of my mother's death.

To my annoyance, Dad hadn't even mentioned the slightest thing about Mum. It bugged me how he could still go on being so okay with his life when I couldn't. I heaved a sigh without meaning to and began to clear my place even though my bacon was still in one piece on my plate.

But, before I could stand up, his hand had grasped mine in a tight hold. I stole a glance at him and then looked back down, seemingly interested with the light coat of dust that had gathered on the table.

We stayed like that for almost ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. After a while I stood up fully and tried to pry my hand from his, but he kept his hold firm. I let out a grunt of exasperation and still stood tugging away at my arm, trying to free myself. He cleared his throat.

"You know…It's alright to remember her. She was apart of you. Apart of us." His grip tightened and I winced slightly, "Just because she's gone doesn't mean she's…Gone."

My face grew hot with anger as I considered what he said. Of course she was gone! Tired of him trying to comfort me with lies, I managed to tear my hand from his and get up in his face.

"No, it's not." I whispered.

"Yes it is, and it always will be." He said soothingly, stroking my arm.

"For God's sakes, Dad! She's gone. G-o-n-e. What, do you think that she just went on another trip with Aunt Denise? Or, no, maybe she's been at a performance for the past nine years!" I screamed, my knuckles turning white from gripping the table.

"Nine years. Nine stupid damned years since she died. And you don't care. You don't care!" I paused to catch my breath and tears started to well up in my eyes when I saw his face was expressionless.

"Litte Lotte…" He began softly, trying to tousle my hair. I pulled away quickly and threw myself from his reach.

"Don't you dare call me that!" I hissed. "It was Mum's nickname for me. And guess what? Newsflash! You aren't her, and you never will be!"

I thrust my body from the table and ran up the stairs to my room where I slammed the door.

Flinging myself on the bed, I expected tears to come. But they were gone. Because I wasn't sad. I was angry. Angry about how she left me like that. Angry about how he could still hang on so easily when I couldn't bear to.

Breathing harshly into my pillow, I stayed that way the rest of the morning, not even peering up when I heard heart wracking sobs in the kitchen below.

- & -

Eh, short chapter, I know. Please don't kill me if it wasn't the best thing in the world!

And now, it's time for the magic to begin.

That's right.

REVIEW!