A/N: Well, hello all! Here is Chapter 1 of my NaNoWriMo project. I decided to tackle a Modern AU, and have set it (quite selfishly) in New England, in order to incorporate as many places that *I* know personally into the story. The first couple chapters, however, are set in England.

**The rating of this story is "M" - changed from "T" - to accommodate the content of a couple of future chapters. If you're looking for a full-blown M-ness quality to each chapter, this may not be what you're looking for. :)

Please drop me a review and let me know what you think! It will eventually be a Chelsie story ... but we're not quite there yet.

xx

CSotA

May 16, 2011: England

"Alice, I can barely hear you." Charles was trying desperately to focus on what she was saying. "You can't what? I don't understand."

An angry huff sounded through his phone's earpiece. "Charlie, what is there to understand? It's not that complicated." She entered the nearest shop. "Is that better?" she asked. "Bloody loud traffic."

"Yes, much, thank you," he said gratefully. "Now, what were you trying to explain?"

"The dinner – I'm going to miss it," she said quietly, not wanting to irritate the saleswoman who'd been hoping for a customer and not just someone seeking refuge from the city's noise. "I can't get home in time."

"What? Surely you're joking. What can you possibly have going on that's more important than this dinner?"

"Client meeting," she said swiftly, "I told you about it this morning. Only they've just phoned and they're running late." She paused, rolling her eyes in irritation as she heard Charles grumbling on the other end. "I couldn't cancel, you know that."

"But, you promised -" he uttered.

"Oh, please. You won't even know I'm not there," she answered acidly, cutting him off. "We both know you enjoy yourselves more when you're on your own. I'm sure Robert and Cora won't mind at all."

"That's not true," he argued. "And you've been working so much lately. I just ... I was hoping for a nice evening," he finished lamely, knowing already that it was a lost cause, and that it had been ever since he tapped the answer button when he saw her number float across his phone.

"Give my apologies, and I'm sure you'll have a fine time. I'll call her later if I can, before I head home."

Right. Because that's the same. He sighed again and ran his fingers through his unruly hair, already dreading having to break the news. "Fine. I'll see you when you get home, love."

'Love.' Wonderful, she thought, just wonderful.

"Of course." And, with that, she hung up.

Charles turned and was startled to see Daisy directly behind him.

"Papa? Was that Mummy?" She was practically bursting with excitement. "Will she be home soon so that we can go?"

He had no idea how he kept his heart from shattering into a million pieces, failing to see that, by now, he simply did so out of habit … and a desire to protect his most precious little girl.

"No, love, she's not going to be home soon," he said quietly. "But you and I are going to leave now and meet your Uncle and Auntie there."

"So she can't come at all?"

He reached his hands down and Daisy readily extended her arms so that he could pick her up. He hoisted her tiny frame and settled her bottom into the crook of his elbow as he placed a kiss to her cheek. She reached her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug.

"But it's my birthday, Papa. Why isn't she coming?" She started to sniffle, but was trying valiantly not to cry. "I wanted her to be there."

"Are you trying to choke me?" he joked, trying to distract her, "because you are very strong!"

"No, silly!" she chuckled. "I couldn't really hurt you. I'm not strong enough for that - you're too big!"

"I think you're very strong," he reassured her aloud, the meaning behind the words sailing over his beautiful daughter's head. He pulled back and looked into her clear, blue eyes and saw the tears that she refused to let fall, ever vigilant in her attempt to be a big girl. "I think you're stronger than you know," he added in a whisper, touching the tip of his nose to hers.

"Now," he said, putting her down, "shall we find your shoes? Which ones are you wearing tonight?"

"Oh, I'll go get them!" Daisy tore up the stairs to her room, returning with a pair of hideously-glittered pink Mary Janes, a gift that Mary had sent last Christmas from America. "These!" she said gleefully. "They match my shirt, Papa!"

"That they do," he nodded, looking at the top with the pink, sparkly kittens that she'd put on that morning. "Do you need help?"

"No, I can do it," she said, sitting on the floor and concentrating on the buckles. "I'm five now, Papa – a big girl!"

He smiled fondly at her, seeing in her intense, focused expression just how much she resembled her mother, right down to the tip of her tongue peeking out from her lips as she concentrated on the task at hand.

It was just another reminder of how little they saw of Alice, especially lately.

Alice and Charles had met in 1988. Charles was in law school, studying corporate law; Alice, who had studied acting and then moved on to contract law, had been working at the university library until she could find her 'perfect placement' - and it meant she'd seen Charles, a regular visitor to the library, quite frequently as the weeks went on.

He'd noticed her bright smile first, almost too effervescent for her face. She was a year older than he was, but he'd have thought she was years younger, and her beauty had astounded him. After three months of chatting over stacks of books and library loan requests, he'd mustered up the courage to ask her to dinner. Eleven months later, they were married and living in a fixer-upper cottage in the Yorkshire countryside.

After the wedding, Charles had taken a job with a little-known law firm, spending most of his time going over litigation paperwork and small business difficulties. Alice went to work for a local theatre, doing publicity as well as negotiating contracts for a few local actors. As the years went by, the small cottage in the country was sold and a bigger home that was closer to London was purchased, and Charles thought he had it all.

And then, one day, Alice had come home from a routine appointment with the most astounding news: for the first time, at age 41, she was pregnant. Charles was thrilled; Alice was simply stunned. She'd been told as a teenager she'd never bear children and, quite frankly, she'd never wanted them anyhow. But Charles was over the moon, and so Alice had resigned herself to the fact that she'd be a mother in a few months' time.

Things started falling apart in 2008, just after Daisy turned two. Alice, who had quit her job upon finding out she was pregnant, claimed she'd been going crazy being tied down at home all the time. So when an opportunity to work for a large talent agency opened up in London, she'd jumped on it. The commute was a little over an hour, but she didn't mind – it gave her time to switch from the dutiful wife and mother persona she maintained at home to the career maven she felt she truly was, and the ride home late at night allowed her to become the wife and mother once again. Charles was working from home at this point, and so he became Daisy's primary caretaker - something that had thrilled him immensely.

Two years after taking the new job, Alice had managed to amass a client list of over fifty actors, musicians, and dancers – and had become one of the most sought-after agents in all of England. She had a way of making each of her clients feel talented and special, and Charles had to admit that she was perfectly suited to her job. He only wished she'd been as well-suited to being a mother, but it had become increasingly clear that family was simply not her number-one priority. And then, much to her husband's surprise, Alice branched out on her own in the summer of 2010, opening her own agency - 95% of her clients followed her.

In the short time it had taken her to climb to the top, Alice had changed, a fact that Charles could no longer ignore. Long nights out over drinks with colleagues and clients had taken their toll; she'd become edgy, always tired, and rarely had time to spend with either her husband or her daughter. It simply didn't seem like she had any interest at all in being a wife anymore. Because Charles was able to work from home, Alice clearly figured she didn't need to be there – he was capable of raising Daisy, after all. Both Charles and Alice had profitable jobs that kept them in a nice home and put wonderful gifts under the tree at the holidays. It was the prosperous life that Alice had never had growing up, and she'd quickly grown accustomed to it. But Charles, who had grown up surrounded by a good deal of money and not very much love, was heartbroken; simply put, he felt that his daughter deserved more … and he missed his loving wife, the woman he'd thought was fabulous when they met all those years ago.

"Papa?" Daisy's voice called him back from his memories, and he smiled down at her.

"You're ready, then? Got Fred?"

"Right here!" she squealed, holding the stuffed horse high in the air. "I'd never forget Fred, Papa!"

"I know you wouldn't. Alright, then – I believe there is a birthday dinner waiting for us, Milady," he said, extending his forearm down so that she could grasp it.

And so it was that, on a warm night in May, Daisy Carson turned five years old, surrounded by her darling Papa and their closest friends in the world. It was almost enough to make her forget that her Mummy hadn't been able to join them.

Almost.

Charles woke hours later to the sound of snuffling.

"Daisy?" he asked groggily. "Darling, what is it?"

"I had a bad dream," she whispered, crawling onto his bed. Charles immediately lifted the covers for her, extending his arm out so she could tuck herself in by his side. He'd been crushed last year when Alice had suggested separate bedrooms, due to the fact that she kept such odd hours and kept waking him when she'd return home after a late meeting. It just felt like one more reminder that she didn't have much interest in being a wife anymore. But, he had to admit, he was sleeping better since he'd moved into the spare.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he whispered. But Daisy only shook her head forcefully, refusing to speak.

"Alright, then," he murmured, kissing the top of her head as he wrapped his arm around her. He felt a strange lump in his side as she moved, and reached down to free Fred from where he lay underneath them, placing the stuffed animal on her belly. "He couldn't breathe," Charles said, causing Daisy to giggle.

"I went to see Mummy, but she wouldn't wake up … she was snoring very loudly," Daisy said. She suddenly gave a great, big yawn. "You always wake up when I come in, Papa."

"Well, I'm a lighter sleeper," he hedged, knowing full well that Alice was likely sleeping off whatever she'd consumed the night before. "You'll see her in the morning, though. Birthday breakfast, hey. Shall we go back to your bed and tuck you in?"

"May I stay here?" she asked sleepily.

"Alright," Charles agreed, "but just for tonight, and only as it's still your birthday. You know you're to be sleeping in your own bed every night now."

"I know," Daisy whispered, yawning again as she pulled the sheet up under her chin. "Good night, Papa. I love you."

Charles felt his heart melt. "I love you too, petal. Sweet dreams."

The smell of bacon and waffles wafted up the stairs. Charles rolled over in bed to see an empty spot where Daisy had been, and he stretched and, after a moment, got up. He pulled on his bathrobe and slid his feet into his slippers, then padded downstairs. Halfway to the kitchen he heard the sound of Alice's voice mixing in with Daisy's giggles. He stopped and stood in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, just enjoying the happy – and all too infrequent – joviality of the scene.

"And how are the most beautiful ladies in the world this morning?" he greeted them, moving over to Alice and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"We are quite well, thank you," she answered, holding her cheek out for a peck. "I'm so sorry about last night," she said sheepishly. "I was very sad to miss it."

"It's alright, Mummy," Daisy told her. "You're still making my birthday breakfast. Oh, let me show you what Uncle Robert and Auntie Cora got for me!" She hopped off the stool and headed up the stairs to fetch her gift, leaving her parents alone in the kitchen.

Charles stiffened as soon as Daisy uttered her forgiveness, and he backed away from Alice with the excuse of pouring himself a cup of tea. His changed demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by his wife, who heaved an annoyed sigh.

"You know I couldn't help it," she muttered to him.

"I know," he said, waving his hand as if to calm her. "But … it feels like something always comes up. And it was clearly a very late night, because you weren't home yet when I went up at one o'clock."

"Yes, I came home shortly thereafter, though. And before you harp on me about drinking and driving, you'll notice that I left the car at the office. I'll take a cab in tomorrow and drive home tomorrow evening."

"I wasn't going to say anything, I know you wouldn't risk yourself like that," Charles admonished.

"Right," she said disbelievingly.

It was his turn to sigh. "I just worry about you, love. You do too much. You're working too hard, you're out late most nights … we never see you anymore."

"Oh? That's rich, coming from you," she retorted. "Before Daisy came along, you were the one working like a dog, you know."

"But I was always home at the end of the day," he countered. "We always had dinner together. We traveled together. I miss that, you know."

"I know you do, Charles," Alice admitted, placing her hand on his arm and squeezing it lightly. "And I do, too."

He looked her right in the eyes, and knew instantly she was lying.

"How about we take Daisy away for the weekend?" he suggested out of the blue. "We can head to the beach, rent a cottage on the water. Just us – no work. My schedule is fairly free, what's yours looking like?"

"I think I can make that work," she answered, assuaging his fears for the moment. "If I have things coming up, I'll move them around. It's only a weekend, so that shouldn't be an issue at all."

"Good," he answered, giving her a brief peck on the forehead.

"Let me tell her when she gets back, please? I feel like I owe her something fun."

"That you do," Charles answered, eyebrow raised. "She was very hurt last night."

Alice raised her hands in defense. "I know, alright? My God, you must really think I'm an awful mother."

He reached out and grasped her hands. "You're not an awful mother."

"Aren't I? I'm never home – you're clearly the favorite parent."

"That's not true."

"It is, and we all know it. And that's fine, really - well, mostly. I'm happy to let you take control, to be in charge of Daisy's upbringing, her education. It's not …" She looked down at the floor before whispering, "It's not who I really am. I'm not sure it ever was."

"Hey, none of that," Charles said softly, reaching to tilt her chin up so that she could meet his eyes. "I've not heard that kind of talk from you in ages. Is everything alright?"

"No, Charles. It's not." She pulled away from him as the waffle maker beeped, then opened it and extracted the last waffle for their breakfast. "And we won't be discussing it now," she added, nodding toward the hallway as the sound of Daisy's footsteps making its way down the hallway.

Alice turned her attention to her daughter. "My, my, what is that?" she asked, a little too brightly.

"It's a Winnie-the-Pooh book – see? It's got pictures, and Uncle Robert said that it's complete, which means that all the Pooh stories are in there. I need to take very good care of it," she added seriously. "Papa read me the first one last night before bed."

"Did he?" Alice enquired, looking up at her husband. He didn't notice at all, though, because his attention was solely focused on Daisy.

Alice tried very hard not to be jealous of the unadulterated look of love on her husband's face, but it was no use. It was clear that the man worshipped the ground Daisy walked on, and that he favored his daughter over his wife.

That had surprised Alice when she'd first discovered it. Daisy had been about three months old at the time, and Charles had been walking around the house with her in his arms, singing softly to her in his deep baritone and trying to calm her during a particularly nasty bout with colic. Alice, on the other hand, had been ready to tear her hair out. She had no patience for the wailing, screaming, purple-faced bundle that was their daughter, and she felt as though she could go running from the house and never come back. She'd gone to the liquor cabinet instead, and she'd poured herself a large dram of whisky. She'd downed it in one, then returned the glass to the counter and had gone upstairs for a bath. When she'd come back downstairs, Charles had been sitting in the recliner by the window, rocking the now-calmed Daisy as he softly spoke to her.

"You," he'd said, stroking her wee little nose with the back of his knuckle, "are the most important thing on Earth to me, do you know that? So you cry all you want, my Daisy girl, because you aren't going to scare me."

The scene had well and truly shocked Alice, but what she'd come to realize in the months that followed was that she really didn't care. It made her a bit jealous to be sure - she'd been so used to being the focus of Charles's life that it was a shock to find out that torch had been passed on to her daughter. But, in other ways, the feeling had been almost liberating.

Alice really did care for her husband and she saw what a kind and generous man he was. They'd had a whirlwind romance during which he'd wined and dined her and, eventually, proposed. They had a nice home, and their life had been everything she'd ever wanted. But she'd never really wanted children – that had been his dream, being a parent – and she'd gone along with it to make him happy, figured she could have her career eventually and they could be a proper family. But that night, when she'd overheard her husband professing his love to their daughter, she truly felt as though she'd been freed.

And now, standing in her kitchen and putting waffles on the tray for Daisy to dig into, she realized how trapped she truly was. And she didn't have the foggiest idea what to do about it.

That's a lie, she told herself quickly. You DO know what to do about it. The question is: will you?

Here we go! Not sure how often I'll post, as it's only about half-written, but it should take us through until Christmas, I think. Thanks in advance for the reblogs and reviews! xx