Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy or any of the rights to The Mummy or any of it's characters, story lines, or merchandise. I do however own Corin Carnarvon, so bite me. You steal her, you die. Thank you and enjoy.

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Corin Elliott Carnahan couldn't even remember crying when she found out Lydia was dead. She knew she hadn't cried when the nice cop had come to take her to the station, and she couldn't recall shedding a single tear at any time during the hellish weeks that followed. She could remember the hollowness that had accompanied the news; she could remember the loneliness and the anger. She could remember hating her mother for dieing. She could even remember stupid things, like what TV show she'd been watching when the doorbell rang. But she couldn't remember crying.

The thought bothered her. Weren't normal people supposed to cry when their family members died? She didn't remember the idea of crying even occurring to her, in all the time since she had found out. Not even once. Her mother, Lydia Carnahan, was dead and Corin hadn't even bothered to cry. What kind of shitty daughter am I? She wondered, what kind of kid doesn't even cry when their mum dies?

Not that Lydia had really been much of a mother. She'd brought Corin into the world, the definition of motherhood, but beyond that…Lydia hadn't been able to make canned soup without setting off the fire alarm, much less prepare a family dinner. Corin had never known Lydia to fuss over her or worry when she came home late like other kids mothers. Usually it was Corin doing the worrying, waiting for her mother to come home. It was Corin who had taken care of Lydia throughout all of her disastrous relationships and inevitable breakups. It was Corin who had seen to it that the bills were paid each month, knowing that Lydia would probably forget.

"Thanks sugar," she would say, lighting up one of her horrible clove cigarettes. Then she would smile proudly, her big ol' lopsided grin, and ruffle Corin's hair affectionately. "What would I do without you honey?" And all Corin's annoyance would disappear in spite of her self. It was impossible to stay mad at Lydia. Or it had been anyway.

And now Lydia was gone, leaving her daughter utterly alone in the world. Until quite recently, Corin hadn't known anything about the family beyond her mother. She'd never known her father, who had apparently wanted nothing to do with his child, and Lydia's family was a taboo subject. Lydia had been the grade "A" screw up in her family, ran away from home at 16, came back at 18 pregnant and alone to find her parents wanted nothing to do with her. She hadn't liked talking to Corin about her family, and frankly, Corin hadn't cared enough to ask. The Carnahan family wanted nothing to do with Lydia; therefore, Corin wanted nothing to do with them.

And now these people, this family that knew and cared nothing for her mother, were the only family she had in the world. At 18, the same age poor Lydia was discovering how alone she was, her daughter was doing the same. The only member of the family that had offered to take her in was Lydia's sister, an aunt Corin had never met, had never even heard mention of until now. Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell.

So she was leaving France, the land of her childhood, the land her mother had loved so much, the land where her mother was buried and going to England to live with an aunt she had never met. It was raining as she boarded the ferry that would carry her across the English Channel. The sky was crying, for no reason Corin could see, and she couldn't even muster up some tears for her mother. As she watched the coast fade away, she tried to remember every detail of France, or Lydia, of her home before it became to far gone to recall.

She tried to remember every feature of Lydia's face, her narrow cheeks, her tan skin, her oval eyes, the prettiest sheen of green. She tried to remember her goofy smile and every piercing on her body. She tried to remember the exact spot on Lydia's back where her tattoo of an Ankh was. It was easy to pull for the image of her mother's uniquely lovely face, easy to draw Lydia back from the depths of her mind. Clearer and clearer, until she was standing in front of Corin with all her flaws and wrongs never to be recanted.

"I hate you!" A part of Corin screamed at the vision of her mother, "I hate you for leaving me, I hate you for never being a mother when I needed one!" But all Lydia could do was smile, that big goofy grin, at her daughter.

Abruptly, she pushed the memories of Lydia drunk, or Lydia stoned aside and focused on the happier ones. Lydia teaching her how to play the violin, and later the guitar. Lydia teaching her how to find constellations in the night sky. Lydia laughing. Lydia smiling proudly, more a child than anything else, so innocent in an odd way Corin hadn't really understood.

And suddenly, there on the deck of the ferry, alone in the rain, Corin realized that she was crying and the world was crying with her. And at the moment she realized this, she was so shocked and happy that she could cry, that she started to laugh. And so she stood, on the deck of that dinky ferry, half laughing, half crying, until the nice porter called her inside.

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"Now remember to give her some space, she's been through a great deal…"

"Eve-"

"But don't act distant, we want her to feel welcome you know…"

"Eve-"

"The thing to do in this situation is just stay calm and-"

"EVELYN!" Rick O'Connell cried exasperatedly at his wife, who was currently pacing the small ferry wharf with an air of hysteria. Eve O'Connell was quite clearly in a state of distress. "Calm down love," Rick ordered, "everything is going to be fine."

"Well of course it will, I mean is must, it simply-"

"Eve!"

"Right, calm. I can do this." Taking a deep breath she ran a hand through her dark wavy hair and smoothed the fabric of her white skirt absent-mindedly for the thousandth time. Rick smiled at her worry.

"I don't honestly know why you've insisted on going bonkers over this Ev," Jonathan Carnahan voiced from his position leaning against the wall to the right of Rick. The cold rainy air was not to his taste and he could think of a thousand far more pleasant places he'd rather be than the dingy wharf.

"Because she's our niece Jonathan! Lydia's daughter! And-O God! That must be the ferry!" she darted over to the railing overlooking the channel. An ancient ferry was making its way through the rain, heading right for the "Lucky Fisherman's Warf." Eve started pacing again.

"Calm Eve." Rick reminded. Jonathan rolled his eyes.

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Corin knew her aunt right away, although she'd never seen the woman before in her life. It didn't make a difference. The face she spotted was just like her own, just like Lydia's. The resemblance between the three of them was uncanny. As she approached, the woman she knew instantly was Eveyln O'Connell smiled, an all too familiar goofy smile of welcome, and for one brief beautiful moment none of it was true. For one beautiful moment it was Lydia greeting her, and reflexively she smiled at the familiar face. And then that moment was gone, taking Lydia with it. Bracing herself, she moved toward the only family she had in the world.

"Here we go."