Phantom of the Opera When Darkness Falls

**A/N: Welcome to another attempt of mine at Phantom fan fiction. This is my first modern day story, and I hope you enjoy it.  
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_When Darkness Falls  
Chapter One_

"The house is white?"

I couldn't imagine us living in a white house. I'm not sure why, but it just didn't seem right at all. The fact it was actually a house, not an apartment, was shocking enough. But white?

I could already tell that I wasn't going to like it here. The streets were too quiet and the air too fresh. All the neighboring yards had freshly cut grass and perfect little white fences. Gardens surrounded the walkways. It was all too perfect, almost like these people were trying too hard.

"It's not that bad, Christine," my father said from behind me. "Let's go inside."

He started up the garden-free walkway, and I hesitated before following. I didn't want to see the inside because I knew it would as perfect as the outside. Perfection was something I couldn't handle at the moment.

Inside, the house was just as I expected. It was perfectly furnished with polished hardwood floors and beautiful furniture. It was all so new, and I was completely stunned by it in the worst way. Our old apartment hadn't been much, but it seemed more like home to me than this. I supposed it might be because this was so new to me, but I didn't want to think so.

"Isn't it beautiful, Christine?" my father said happily.

"I suppose," I replied.

He gave me a pat on the head and chuckled. "You'll get used to it soon enough, Little Lotte."

I gave a half-hearted smile, and he disappeared into the dining room. Left alone, I set my heavy bag down on the floor. I wanted so much to go back to the little apartment in the city. Suburban life was already not agreeing with me, and I'd only been here a few hours.

Oh, it was so quiet. I couldn't hear any cars passing or voices raised. It was completely silent. I didn't like it when it was silent because it gave me time to think. In the city, I really never had to stop and think. Everyone was busy trying to push life along, but here it was lazy and quiet. The small town had an almost dream-like quality to it. The air was so fresh and crisp, the grass a bright shade of green. I could hear birds chirping in the trees. How different from the smog filled air and dying grass of the city. In the apartment, I never heard birds at all, only the sound of engines.

I could hear my father rambling in another room now, probably the kitchen. He had stated about an hour ago that he was beginning to regret skipping breakfast. I had teasingly scolded him for missing such an important meal, and he had only laughed. "You're so like you're mother," was his reply.

Oh, I didn't want to think about my mother. I missed her terribly as did my father. I believe that's one reason he moved us into this house to begin with. He was feeling her lose so deeply that he took us away to move on, start over again. Of course, it wasn't that easy. Starting over is never easy.

"Christine." His voice startled me out of my thoughts. "Christine, go outside and start bringing you're stuff in. Just leave mine. I'll get it later."

"Okay," I replied. "Wait…where do I take my things?"

"Pick out a bedroom you like and put it there."

"Okay."

I walked back outside to the car. I was really fond of the old beat up Honda my dad insisted on keeping. It was pitiful, but good enough for us. So far it had never failed my father, one of the only things that never had besides me.

Opening the trunk, I took out two heavy bags and heaved them out onto the pavement. It still amazed me that my father and I managed to get most of our belongings into the little car. A small moving truck would be arriving later with the rest of our possessions though, and I hoped we didn't have to unload most of those ourselves. My father often joked that we were both musicians, and that meant being completely unsuited for anything else. He could be so stupid sometimes. I suppose that's one of the reason's I loved him so much.

"Christine, you're day-dreaming again." I turned around to find my father standing behind me trying not to laugh. "I can't leave you alone for three minutes…"

"I wasn't day-dreaming," I said. I tried to hide a smile. "I was simply thinking."

"Of course you were, and I'm the best violinist in the world." He shook his head and grabbed one of my heavy bags. "Come along, Little Lotte."

"But, Dad, you are the best violinist." I said.

He only smiled and disappeared into the house as the sun began to set behind the green hills in the distance turning the sky a brilliant shade of purple mixed with a bit of pink. Spidery shadows crept near my feet, and the light from the open doorway of our house shined out in the night like a lantern. I hadn't noticed how late it was becoming, or how beautiful. The only positive thing I could see about this whole town was the beauty of its sunset.

I lifted the remaining bag and made my way up the walkway into the inviting light. Maybe tomorrow I could get a bit more sleep. We had left New York City a week ago and slowly made our way down to lazy Tennessee. My father had driven, and the stops had been limited. A few nights we just took a nap in the car before starting off again. It had been exhausting.

"Dad, I'm going to go claim a room. I'll bring the other stuff in tomorrow," I called. I didn't think I could stand much longer. "Goodnight."

"'Night," he answered.

I smiled, left the bag in the floor, and trekked up the long staircase to the upper floor. It looked just the same as the downstairs. I wondered if the rooms were furnished, and opened the nearest door to find out. They were, and I saw the same beautiful furniture. With a shrug, I closed the door.

At the end of the hallway, I came upon the last room. The door was a pretty off-white color. I opened it and found myself in the most beautiful room I had ever seen. The walls were the same off-white with cherry furniture. A beautiful canopied bed was at the very center, and off to the side on a small table sat my flute case. My father must have brought it in here knowing I would pick this room. Sure enough, there laid one of my bags under the table. The table sat in front of a large window that overlooked the lazy neighborhood. I could see the last bit of the sun setting behind the hills. It was a mesmerizing view, absolutely gorgeous.

"Dad, how did you afford this?" I asked the walls. "This is…beautiful."

Kicking off my shoes, I climbed into the soft, white canopy bed not bothering to change. I'd worry about everything in the morning. But for now, all I wanted to do was sleep, and sleep I did.

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**A/N: I know this chapter was short, but I needed to introduce you to Christine and her father. I also needed to explain the situation without drawing it out. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews would be much appreciated!**


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Phantom of the Opera, Romance