"Mr. Khan, while I appreciate the call, I don't understand why you deemed it necessary when we are to meet in one hour."

Nadir automatically sat up straighter in his seat at the directness of her tone. He was sitting outside of a small cafe in Columbus Circle. The weather was nice for a change, and he wanted to take advantage of it.

With a bluetooth in his ear, his hands were immobile, but he felt the need to occupy them. He fiddled almost nervously with the strap of his briefcase. He had been forewarned that Giry was a peremptory creature, but never before had he spoken to a woman with such curt manners. It brought him up short.

"I do not wish to take up very much of your time, I simply wanted to give you some warning before you meet with my associate and myself."

"I doubt that is necessary Mr. Khan, for as I said, our meeting is to take place in one hour, and I'm sure I will learn all I need to know at that time."

Nadir grit his teeth. The woman didn't like to make things easy, did she?

"Mrs. Giry-"

"Madame will suit."

"Madame, then. The reason for my calling is expressly to warn you of my companion, who has been known to be something of an anomaly."

Madame Giry didn't so much as pause. "I've dealt with many unpleasant people, Mr. Khan, both in my line of work and in my husband's. I do not frighten easily."

She was brave, at least. Or foolhardy. Nadir somehow suspected the latter couldn't be the case. "With all due respect, Erik isn't merely unpleasant. He is…." Nadir sighed. "It is difficult to put into words."

"I would appreciate it if you tried." She sounded impatient, but there was something else there, too. Curiosity, perhaps?

Nadir smoothed down the front of his shirt, his voice lowering. Erik was supposed to meet him there prior to their meeting with Giry. He had some time before Erik arrived, but it never hurt to be careful. Especially where Erik and his preternatural hearing were concerned.

"Erik is a wanted man in many countries. While the majority of them want him for his skills, a good deal of them want him for his head. He is an absurdly gifted individual, with a wide range of talents and a great deal of knowledge."

"Are you trying to tell me in no uncertain terms, Mr. Khan, that your friend is dangerous?"

Nadir almost smiled. The agency had not lied. Madame Giry was uncannily perceptive.

"I am, Madame, but that is not the reason for my bringing it up."

"I'm afraid I have to disagree with you, Mr. Khan. They might have told you I am a stone-cold authoritarian, but do not be mistaken, I care very deeply for my students. If they are in danger, I will need to know of it."

Nadir hesitated. "I do not believe him to be a danger to your students, Madame."

"But can you guarantee that he won't be?"

The conversation was going in different direction from that which Nadir had thought it would go. "I want to tell you that I can. From my previous experience, Erik has never harmed anyone who did not threaten or provoke him. Not once."

Giry paused, considering that. Then, "I cannot pretend to like your answer, Mr. Khan, but I suppose it will do. For now."

Nadir breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wanted very desperately to end this call, and soon.

"Your purpose, then, in calling?"

"Ah, yes." He took a quick, dainty sip of his espresso. "I wanted to forewarn you about his face."

"His face," she repeated, deadpan.

"Yes," Nadir said. "Erik wears a mask. He dislikes it when people stare. It makes him...uncomfortable, to put it lightly. Since we are to work closely for some time, it would probably be best to start off on a good note."

"I see."

Thinking he had probably offended her in some way, he continued. "Please, Madame, I do not wish to insult you by saying this. Previous experience in these matters is what prompts me to bring this up. I simply wish for things to go smoothly."

Rather than protest him, like he suspected, she gave a polite, objective response. "Very good, Mr. Khan. I appreciate your warning and will take it into consideration. If that is all, I must see to some paperwork before our meeting. Good morning."

Nadir responded similarly, and hung up.

He picked up his tiny espresso cup. Talking to Giry was not unlike talking with Erik. They were both equally capable of causing whiplash within only a few minutes of conversion. The thought made him chuckle quietly under his breath.

"Something amusing you, Daroga, or should I fear for your mental faculties?"

Nadir jumped, grimacing when a percentage of the contents of his cup spilled onto his shirt. Thankfully the espresso had cooled some, else he would have been burned, in addition to embarrassed.

"Erik! How long have you been standing there?" he admonished in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment.

"Why do you ask, Daroga? Gossiping about me in my absence?"

"N-no! I wasn't gossiping-"

"Calm yourself, Daroga, lest you spill more of that sludge on yourself." Erik gave a wry chuckle. "There is no need to lie to Erik. He always knows."

Nadir tried his best to avoid shuddering. He hated when Erik talked about himself in third person. It was eerie, and it usually did not bode well for him.

Erik sat down opposite Nadir, startling the man badly enough with his actions that he jumped a second time. One of Erik's greatest weapons had always been his ability to be unpredictable. It was why he had not been captured up until very recently.

For his part, Erik looked extremely comfortable sitting there. He crossed his legs, gazing out into the street as if he hadn't a care in the world. Nadir imagined it helped a great deal that there weren't many people around to stop and gawk. If there were, Nadir imagined things would not be so peaceful.

"I imagine I am the very foundation of your existence," Erik continued, impervious as to any change in the mood. "I suppose I should consider myself flattered that you are so concerned with me."

Nadir found this line of reasoning very confusing, but decided it was in his best interests not to challenge him.

"I've always been concerned about you, Erik."

Erik turned about to look at him, peering at him carefully. "Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. Nadir felt as though he were being scanned from the outside, in. "That's not a lie," he finally concluded, seeming satisfied with the assessment. "Well, not entirely. Perhaps a half truth? You have always been concerned about my affairs, but perhaps, by extension, that has included my wellbeing? I imagine that's only so that my ugly carcass has not been left to rot and pollute the earth." Erik snorted, and the sound was so unlike any he usually made that Nadir looked at him with shock. "You've such a weeping heart, Daroga, caring for some heartless beast in addition to environmental issues."

Nadir couldn't help but roll his eyes. Now Erik was just making fun of him. He had almost forgotten how much of a dramatist Erik could be.

"Careful, Erik. One would almost think you've gotten maudlin in your old age. What must you be now? Thirty-eight? Thirty-nine?"

Erik waved his hand around carelessly. "You know I've never bothered to investigate something as trivial as my birth date, Daroga. Unless you were thinking of baking me a cake?"

Nadir smirked. "It might be the best way of making you eat. You're like a mountain goat. However," Nadir said, almost dreamily, a lost look glazing over his eyes, "I do have some memory of you devouring the Turkish Delight I used to bring you back from my travels."

Erik sighed wistfully. "You always had a penchant for kissing ass, Nadir. But I'll grant you, the confection was always well-appreciated," he said with a rare twinkle to his sunken eyes.

Nadir matched his good humor. It was rare to share moments like this, and despite the history between them, Nadir had always cared for Erik, and always would.

"Do not think that I've forgotten your phone call, Daroga."

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Nadir huffed. "I called Giry. Are you happy now, you meddling brute?"

His companion ignored the barb. "We are seeing her in less than an hour."

"As she had happily informed me, yes, I know."

Erik stared at him, mutely prodding for an explanation.

Nadir shook his head. "You are the most difficult…" He trailed off, squeezing the bridge of his nose under his wire spectacles. "I was prepping her for our meeting."

Erik's eyes lit up in understanding, but he appeared more amused than angry. "Ah, Nadir, ever the pragmatist!" He leaned back. "You never fail to perplex. But there! I'll say no more."

He wasn't exactly sure if he won that exchange, but he knew better than to say anything else.

To Giry's credit, she gave no reaction to the anomaly that was Erik when they walked through her door. The first thing she did was ask the two of them to sit, at which point Erik gave Nadir a pointed glance before complying.

"We appreciate you taking the time, Madame."

"As does the government, I'm sure."

Nadir might have been very mistaken, but he thought he saw Erik's lips twitch from the corner of his eye.

"Ah, yes." Nadir cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, right to it, then. How much has Agent Baker told you?"

"Just as much, if not more, than you I'd imagine." Giry opened a drawer in her desk, removed a folder, then placed it on top of the desk. "Here's the file. It's to remain with me, but you may look through the contents."

Nadir gratefully took the folder and read what was inside. It was as she said. It was almost identical to what Nadir had, save for the fact that it was mostly decoded. Nadir carried a folder that had many secrets codes the FBI had invented to keep private information...well, private. Giry likely didn't know the codes, but Nadir would think twice before he bet money on it.

While Nadir read, he could feel Erik and Giry sizing each other up. Erik hadn't looked away from her since they entered the room. Nadir sighed.

"It appears to all be in order," Nadir said. "I've read much of the same. Cartier as the target, secret terrorist group, etcetera. You've a notion of when this is most likely planned for?"

"The spring." Giry nodded. "We've planned an opera to be performed then."

Erik spoke, his gaze transforming from assessing to curious. "Which one?"

Giry turned to him, her expression surprised, almost as if she hadn't expected him to speak at all. "'The Tender Land.'"

"Ah. Copland."

Giry leaned forward. "Do you have an interest in opera, Erik?"

Erik chuckled, the sound slightly sinister. "You might say that."

Nadir felt irritation and amusement warring within him. He decided to humor the room. "Erik is a musician, Madame. A composer, too."

Giry look disconcerted at the information.

Nadir looked at Erik with confusion, wondering if the man noticed Giry's hesitation. Erik, as always, was stoic, as if he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary at all. Or, more likely, he noticed, and chose not to react.

He had initially thought that Erik's talents and knowledge about opera and music might be an asset to them. But for reasons of her own, Giry had reservations. Nadir didn't share them, but her feelings unsettled him all the same.

"Well," Giry said at length. "That is a rare and fortunate coincidence." Her tone was odd, and it put Nadir further on edge.

Erik merely shrugged and remained silent.

Giry cleared her throat and returned her gaze to Nadir. "The plans for the spring have just recently been announced to the student body and faculty. We have yet to go public with the information, but it has no doubt leaked. The information wasn't exactly password protected. The school tends to make formal announcements in a grandiose fashion, but as you no doubt know, this school thrives on secrets. They're practically currency here, Mr. Khan. The more information you hold in your hands, the better your leverage. We're in a cutthroat business, you see, and being in the nation's capital only exacerbates that fact."

"You think that whatever organization has made threats already has this information in hand?"

"Certainly. We've had threats before, but nothing of this caliber, and nothing that the conservatory as a whole has been aware of. It's been kept need-to-know in the past, and for now, it remains the same. I haven't so much as told my daughter the present threat."

"You have a daughter?" Nadir asked with surprise. Somehow, he didn't picture Giry being the maternal type. Still, her strict, business-like demeanor could mean that she had ample experience keeping children in line.

"Yes," Giry said, her eyes hard. "She's a student here, and therefore one of the threatened parties I intend on protecting."

"You have my word, and Erik's, Madame, that your daughter will be safe."

Giry looked at Erik at Nadir's mention, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "I have complete faith that you will, Mr. Khan. And do you know why?"

Nadir's shoulders straightened. "Why?

Giry shifted her gaze to Nadir, her eyes hawk-like with predatory awareness. "Because," she said, "If anything happens to her, you'll have to deal with me."

He hadn't apprised Nadir of his exact plan. They had briefly discussed how they would patrol the school, specifically how to smoke out the people behind the terrorist threat, but Nadir knew Erik better than to expect him to fully disclose his plans.

And he was right.

Erik had always preferred to work alone. While Nadir had his uses (and they did make a good team, though Erik was loathe to admit it), Erik could accomplish much more on his own. Nadir was too moral to adopt some of Erik's more...efficient methods. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, to cross whatever mythical line Nadir envisioned if it meant meeting their ends. In the past, Nadir would oftentimes slow Erik down to half his productivity. It was unbearable.

He had always been curious about Cartier. The school had only been around for a couple of decades, having been established right around his own birth. And yet, despite its' young age, it had developed a reputation. Many theater and dance companies around the country employed graduates of Cartier. He had researched some of the more famous ones, and had been pleasantly surprised by their education and discipline. The teachers, too, were very good, though some were better than others.

A few teachers held ties to the Washington elite. Erik didn't like that.

He had not yet informed Nadir, but he had a few ideas of where to start looking. There were teachers and places to investigate where Cartier-affiliated persons were known to meet with suspicious characters. But before he dove into any of that, he wanted to know Cartier. He wanted to walk the grounds, see its' halls, hear its' music. He would know this place inside, out. And there was more to knowing a school than studying its' blueprints.

He waited until later that night to explore the campus. From a distance, the conservatory seemed to operate like any other major university. Classroom buildings, student housing, administrative buildings. The campus itself was aesthetically pleasing, he could admit that much. The grounds were verdant, with their own cherry blossom trees that matched the ones across town at the Jefferson Memorial. The architecture was reminiscent of the founders too in the colonial style, with tall, Grecian pillars, multiple gables and plenty of windows to utilize natural light.

It was quiet at night. Erik wasn't sure what to make of that. It was easy enough to chalk it up to the nature of the students, all of whom were most likely under curfew by their professors. It was a Wednesday night, too, and not too late. Classes might even still be in session.

Erik was torn. He knew that being in this place would inevitably sway him. It was a natural disposition, perhaps, to be intrigued by any institution that fostered musical learning. His love for music ran deep, and having so few opportunities in his life to pursue it often made him desperate. He had the pesky habit of finding some dank, quiet corner in the dead of night to sing or play his violin, if only to satisfy some visceral hunger pang. Music was its' own kind of drug, and Erik had never given sobriety a fair shot.

Curiosity winning out, Erik headed towards the vocal arts building.

Five stories tall, the vocal arts building was a brick-red, rectangular monstrosity. The very top of the building sported a bell tower, as all the music buildings did. He smiled ironically.

Creeping greenery climbed up its' walls, like the tower that caged Sleeping Beauty. Erik could almost envision thick thorns poking out of those vines, warding off any unworthy person (like him) from entering. Shaking himself of this nonsense, he made sure no one was around before walking through the door.

As Erik suspected, a few classes were still going on. He estimated that maybe twenty to twenty-five people were currently on the first floor, with any number on the top floors, practicing. He was thankful for the poor lighting in the hallways, making it easier for him to skulk about without being seen.

He slipped into an empty classroom adjacent to one that was occupied, satisfied to see that he could look through one of the air vents to watch what was happening on the other side of the wall. What he saw both intrigued and disgusted him.

The class was smaller than a lecture hall, but bigger than some of the higher level classes where students worked one on one with the teachers. It was an arena classroom with three levels, shaped in a half moon, rising from the floor level. A large whiteboard spanned the length of the far wall. There were currently sixteen students in attendance, two of whom were standing at the front of the class. Both were female, one bolder, and curvier, than the other. They were engaged in a duet from an opera Erik was very familiar with.

The curvier girl was a presence. Her voice was louder, more nuanced, than that of the other girl. Her pronunciations were hell to listen to, as was anything outside of her middle register. She was trying too hard to impress, and it showed.

The other girl was a much different story. Volume of her partner aside, the girl was barely trying. He could read it all over face. Erik sneered and turned his attention away from her.

At the completion of the song, the slender, waifish thing rounded off her note crisply and quietly, whereas the red-headed banshee took the opportunity to end in a blasting crescendo. A few of the students towards the back of the class flinched imperceptibly, thinking no one else would notice. How wrong they were.

Someone coughed hoarsely. "Very good Cara, Christine," said a small, white-haired man off to the side. He had been playing the piano. Erik guessed that this was the teacher. "I'm glad to see that you both did your homework over the summer. Your interpretations were, of course, vastly different, but we do not critique in this class, only discuss."

I would gladly critique it for you, Erik thought darkly.

"You will receive my notes, ladies, via email. It is important that we learn where, and when, we go wrong in this piece. And not just in pitch, mind. Overall, however, I can see that you both have put some work into it. I am satisfied for now."

Erik felt his jaw drop. Was the man insane?! Both were horrendous interpretations of the song. Erik nearly felt faint with dismay.

Erik sighed. He would curb his judgment presently. Perhaps there was more to be gained from listening to the others.

He stuck around to listen to a few of the other students sing. Most were passable. Some were even impressive. For some reason, the teacher was more honest about their interpretations. The man had taste, there was no doubt about that. So why the fallaciousness to those two? There was something more to this than Erik knew.

The professor dismissed the class forty-five minutes later. Erik had hardly felt the passing of time. He looked down at his phone and cursed himself for his lack of attention. Anyone could have come walking into the room, seen a strange, masked man spying on a class, and suitably become alarmed. He hadn't even bothered to lock the door! Cursing himself again for his stupidity, his raced to the door, swiped it locked, and returned to his perch.

The students slowly filtered out of the room. The shrieking, loud girl rose and, accompanied by two sycophantic-looking girls, paused by the quiet singer's desk.

"This is why I say you shouldn't even bother, Daae," the redhead simpered. "No point."

Erik normally would have agreed, but instead, he bristled irrationally. He couldn't find it within himself to support a girl who would steamroll a classmate. The Daae girl remained stoic. She watched the girl and her friends depart, missing the teacher storming over towards her.

Erik rose an eyebrow, but continued to watch the scene unfold.

The professor slapped a piece of sheet music on Daae's desk, and looked at her over his wire-framed glasses.

"This section, if you please."

The Daae girl looked up with shock. "Professor Reyer…?"

He shook his head, then beckoned her to follow him to the piano.

The girl swallowed, but obeyed, bringing the sheet of paper with her.

"Pick-up to measure 148."

She nodded meekly. On the cue, she sang, loudly and boldly.

Erik felt like a bolt of lightning had been shot to his chest. Hearing her voice alone, at full strength...it was unlike any experience of his life. He sent a small prayer of thanks to Reyer for having the wisdom to know this girl's potential.

Her voice was...pure. Evocative. Wholesome. Unemotional, however. Robotic even, but surpassing in beauty to almost anything else Erik had ever heard.

In fact, he couldn't think of anything that could compare.

Reyer stopped playing abruptly and turned to her. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

She opened her mouth. "Cara…"

Reyer banged on the piano keys. Erik glared. No instrument deserved that treatment, no matter the impetus.

"I don't like excuses, Christine. Please do not insult me by telling me that Cara intimidates you."

Christine shut her mouth abruptly and looked away.

Reyer sighed, and removed his glasses. "Christine, listen. I am not unsympathetic. I have witnessed the girl heckle you. I am neither blind, nor deaf. But you do know she would not do so were you not so susceptible to it?"

The girl nodded.

"Cara is aware of her advantage. She had been aware since birth. But being so high and mighty means she has more to lose. The smallest threat is a great one. You musn't allow this to deter you from what you want. Do you know what you want, Christine?"

She looked back up, her eyes shining slightly. Reyer gentled his voice.

"I am sure you think you do. Let that be your motivation and your guidepost. If you hang onto that tightly enough, she can't touch you. Yes?"

Christine smiled, and nodded.

"Good," Reyer said, and he smiled too. "Now, off with you. I'll see you Monday."

"Thank you, Professor." Christine gathered her things and scurried off, Reyer following a moment later.

Erik watched the door they had departed through, his mind turning over itself. The girl would need a lot of support in the days to come. Guidance, certainly, in making her potential known, but courage, too. Erik had never been much for encouraging others, but in this particular case he was sure he could…

He shook his head, clearing himself of the idea. It was ridiculous. He didn't have time for a pet project involving some coed.

He had more important things on his plate than Christine Daae.

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the support thus far! I know it's slow rolling, but I'm still very much invested in this story. I hope you like it!

Please review! It gives me joy and motivation to keep going! Let me know what you think!