Jamie Marston was so ready to go home. Still a little hungover from the night before, she had been baking under the sun for half the day, and drinking rosé with Cecilia Straton the other half. Both girls had dedicated themselves to becoming brown as nuts before the weather turned, and had done valiant jobs at it thus far. Even after spending 8 hours in each other's company, much was still left unsaid, necessitating a phone call for Jamie's walk home.

"Becky's nowhere near ready to move to the front of the line," Jamie said with confidence, her step unhurried. She was light on her toes, and just the slightest bit careless as she walked. "I heard Loren say so herself, and everyone knows she's retaining her position this year. Madame always calls her," she paused, and continued in a bad French accent, "'My most dedicated dancer.'"

A dark shape turned a corner in front of her, but she paid no mind.

"And Catriona swears she heard Madame say that she would advance me this year." A pause. "I know, right? It's about damn time. At least she doesn't show preferential treatment to her daughter. Then I'd be fighting a battle on two fronts!"

The girl with the phone to her ear walked more slowly, her eyes darting around. Something felt off. She paused, then rolled her eyes at something Cecilia said.

"Well, yes, of course Meg is enormously talented. That's not exactly new-"

She cut herself off at the sound of rushing footsteps. She turned to look behind her, but there was no one there.

In fact, there wasn't a single soul out.

Jamie shook her head, and answered Cecilia. "Yeah, I'm fine, campus is just super quiet. Weird, it's only 9 o'clock," she remarked.

She was about to begin walking again when a figure appeared in front of her, standing about a hundred feet away. It was too dark to see his face. She felt his eyes on her, staring her down, and she gave an involuntary shudder. He took a couple of steps towards her when, out of nowhere, another figure raced towards him and threw something at him, knocking the first man down to his knees. Jamie screamed.

"Oh my g-d, oh my g-d, oh my g-d…"

Cecilia was shouting into the phone, but Jamie wasn't listening. Her eyes were riveted to the scene before her, frozen and unable to think.

The man on the ground met eyes with his assailant, cowering before him. The assailant seemed to say something to the other, which made him quickly get to his feet and scurry away.

Jamie swallowed, feeling no less safe. The assailant continued to stand to the side, but slowly turned his head towards her. She couldn't see his face either, but felt dread wash down her spine all the same.

"He won't bother you again," said a man's voice in her ear. "If anyone else harasses you, call campus police. I have better things to do than babysit all of you."

Jamie jumped. The words had entered into her ear as if someone were standing next to her, but the only person around was the man several feet before her. She looked to the side, then back to him. She opened her mouth to reply, but he was gone.

"It was the weirdest experience of my life! I was scared to death, you know? I thought one of them was going to kill me! Thank g-d Cici was on the phone with me!"

Lunchtime on Monday saw the campus flooded with student life. The quad was much busier than it had been the night before, teeming with students soaking up sunshine and running to their next class. Jamie, Cecilia, Loren, Amy, Meg, and Christine sat together at a wooden table, each picking at their food, far more interested in Jamie's story than in their lunch.

"And he had the creepiest voice!" Jamie continued. "Deep, but not, you know? Definitely a singer, I'd bet my life on it."

"You think the ghost that haunts the school is that of a dead student?" Meg said, doubt coloring her tone.

"Well, no," Jamie said, stumbling a little, "He sounds older than that. But I can just tell, that's all."

"Why do you think it's a ghost at all?" Christine asked. "Didn't you see him push the other guy? Ghosts can't push." Christine's face was colored with doubt. They all heard her unspoken additive: Ghosts aren't real.

"Christine," Meg implored. "It wasn't a ghost. It was The Ghost."

Christine sighed.

"He didn't push him," Jamie clarified. "He threw something at him. Probably a rock or something."

"That's weird," Meg stated.

Jamie nodded. "I know. But whatever it was, it worked! That guy was scared shitless. He ran for the hills!"

"Tell them what else he said, Jamie," Cecilia piped in. "Right after he disappeared."

Jamie straightened. "He said, 'Run now, little mouse.' How weird is that, right?"

"Maybe he called you a mouse because you're a ballerina?" Amy said.

"What does that have to do with being a ballerina?" Jamie frowned.

"Because of The Nutcracker, of course!"

"That's dumb, why would a ghost know about The Nutcracker?"

Meg put a hand to her forehead and rubbed it. Christine had to keep from giggling. She couldn't help it. The dance majors did tend towards the dramatic.

"That's it?" Meg asked, dropping her hand away. "Did he say anything else?"

"Well, no," Jamie said, deflated. "Just the thing about not being here to protect us all."

"How weird is that?" Meg asked. "What do you think he meant by it?"

"He probably just wants to go about his afterlife in peace. Doesn't want to be wasting it chasing after you hooligans," Loren said, fond amusement in her voice.

"But it was definitely him!" Jamie said. "If not for his warning, then definitely for that voice. And he spoke right into my ear, even though he wasn't anywhere near me! A normal person couldn't do that."

"Same thing happened to me!" Amy said. She was second shortest after Cecilia, and had dark hair that curled around her ears. Christine noted that she didn't normally hang around this group, and was probably trying to get into their good graces by spreading even more gossip. "I was singing to myself as I stretched in the hallway, and he told me to stick to what I was good at! He was so mean!" Christine noted that she appeared delighted, rather than stung.

"Did you see him?" Meg asked, clearly in thrall.

"No," Amy said sadly. "I thought I saw a shadow, but it was just the stray cat that hangs out around campus."

"Haven't seen the cat around as much these days," Meg mused. "Maybe the Ghost has been feeding her."

The rest of the girls giggled, the image of a ghost holding a cat enough to warrant a few chuckles.

"What do you think he wants?" Amy asked, her voice gleefully quiet.

"Some say he's been around for decades," Meg added.

"Your mom, then," Christine added, dodging a swat from her best friend.

"He's probably just a perv who likes watching us change out of our leotards," Cecilia said in her low, raspy voice. The other girls appeared outraged but laughed anyways.

"Maybe he's lonely?" Christine suggested. The girls looked towards her.

"What makes you say that, Chris?" Meg asked. "Have you heard the Ghost?"

Christine paused, met the eyes focused on her.

"No, don't be ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. "It's just that…if he's the only ghost here, it's got to be lonely, right?"

Meg shrugged. "Fair enough. But you wouldn't hold out on me if you heard something, right, Chris? Not on me of all people?"

Christine gave her a flat look. "You know I don't believe in this ghost nonsense, Meg."

Meg scoffed. The other girls, to their credit, didn't look offended. "That's alright," Loren said, winking in Christine's direction. "It's good to have skeptics. Keeps us honest."

"Right! And when you finally hear the Ghost yourself, you'll know we were right all along! And it'll be that much sweeter!" Amy declared.

Meg crossed her arms. "She better not hear him before me, I'll tell you that much!"

The bell tolled to signal that the hour was up. The girls dispersed, all heading in different directions.

"I'll see you after class? Or are you headed straight to the music building?" Meg asked, her expression sly.

"I'll be home first. I have to read a few chapters for class before I practice. And probably eat something, too."

"I'll leave you some chili. I'm going to brew some up this afternoon before lyric dance tonight."

Christine gave her a sideways look. "You're still pursuing that club? Don't you dance enough without adding another three hours to it?"

Meg grinned at her cheekily. "Not nearly enough, according to my mother. Even she approves of this. Of course, she doesn't know I'm doing it so I can get close to Gabriel."

Christine met her smile. "Ah, and the truth comes out!" she teased.

Meg scowled. "Don't you judge me, Christine Daae. I'm an ambitious woman, and I'll be damned if Jamie scoops him up before I do!"

"Well, then," Christine said, saluting her. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of Margaret Giry getting what she wants."

Meg winked. "Damn straight." She leaned forward to kiss Christine on the cheek, then gave her a little wave. "See ya!"

Christine returned the wave. She was about to leave herself when she noticed Loren hanging back.

Loren was the tallest of them all, with brown hair, gray eyes, and soft, full lips. She was the least scrawny of the ballerinas Christine knew, which made it a feat that she remained positioned as prima ballerina at the school. She was the most mature, too, which left much doubt in Christine's mind as to why she gave Jamie and the rest of the girls the time of day.

"Hey, Christine…" Loren said, approaching after Meg had walked out of sight. "Forgive me if this is too invasive, but didn't you start seeing Raoul recently?"

Christine felt her cheeks reddening. "Um, well, I don't know if I would call it 'seeing him…'"

Loren smiled. "Don't worry. You don't have to define it. I don't define…whatever it is I have going with Philippe." She blushed a little too, a marvel to Christine. She had always figured Loren for being a confident, worldly girl. Plus, she had been 'seeing Philippe' since she was a freshman.

"Anyways, you should totally double up with us sometime. It would be so fun! Philippe has been talking about going to see a game at Nationals Park." She paused, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Not like I care for sports, but it's still a good excuse to drink beer and eat junk food."

"Oh, um, well…I mean, that would be nice…"

"Great! I'll suggest it to Raoul next time I see him." Loren gave her a big smile. "OK, well, gotta jet. See you around, Christine! Take care!"

Christine watched Loren walk away, her hair swinging behind her. She distantly thought that if Philippe was wise, he would define what he had with Loren before she wised up and found someone who knew what she was worth.

Erik slowly drew his fingers away from the keyboard, the cords easing away as he slowly lifted his foot from the pedal. The sound was not as full as a piano would be, not by a longshot, but it was the best he could do under the present circumstances. A keyboard was much easier to maneuver into the space he had been occupying for the practices he held with Christine.

She had yet to discover his hiding place, which served him just fine. This little project of his was fleeting, with a very clear expiration date.

All the better. He knew he didn't need the distraction.

And yet...

"Better," he offered, looking up from the instrument. "You've managed to progress in three days. I must tell you, Miss Daae, I didn't think we would accomplish much of anything in less than a week. But I stand corrected."

His surprise came through and showed in his voice. He could hardly help it. He didn't know what had possessed him to offer to tutor her in the first place. Less than a week to prepare for an audition – frankly, it was absurd. Given weeks, maybe, but six days?

He found himself amazed. The girl was dedicated, a quick study, and naturally talented. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imaged they'd make this much progress.

"Thank you, sir," she politely returned.

Erik gritted his teeth. Not for the first time, he wished he could actually see her during these lessons, gauge her true feelings by seeing her face.

But short of creating a two-way mirror in the wall, he was left speculating.

As to being inside the room with her…

Well, that of course was out of the question.

The only times he caught sight of her was when he spotted her around campus as he did his daily patrol, and on the way home from their practice sessions. Ever since that first night, he had taken it upon himself to see her home – silently, of course. She hadn't an inkling as to her night guard, and he preferred to keep it that way.

He hadn't yet examined why he'd chosen to follow her home. He told himself it was some sense of beleaguered decency that he finally seemed to develop after so many years. It would explain why he had helped that little ballet rat the night before. He hadn't much cared for any creature in the past, familiar or unfamiliar, but for some reason, this city was bringing out some latent sense of sentimentality.

It was more than just gauging her expressions, however. He realized, too, that he wanted to look at her just for the sake of looking.

The first time he saw her, singing next to Cara, he hadn't thought much of her. She was self-conscious, alarmingly so. He knew she'd have much to overcome if she wanted to succeed in the arts.

But when he had seen her sing with Reyer, she had transformed. In that moment, she was easily the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The way her face seemed to shutter open when she sang, like opening the curtains to let the sunlight in. Her peach mouth had softened as she formed the lyrics. Her iridescent, pale pink eyelids fluttered over cornflower blue eyes in serene splendor, mindful of nothing else but the music. The apples of her cheeks glowed, loosening off the gray pallor like dead leaves from a growing tree. It was exquisite.

And troubling, that Erik could remember so vividly.

It was for the best that their interactions would soon cease. She'd have her audition, and do well, as he had prepared for, and he'd go back to being the Bureau's errand boy.

"How did those last few measures feel?" he inquired.

"Good," she answered. She paused, then, "Did they sound okay?" He wished she did not sound so unsure of herself.

"You're nearly there," he said gently. "Improved from before, no doubt of that."

She sighed loudly. "Oh. Good." She sounded relieved. Erik felt a responding relief to hers, an emotion that was foreign to him. Why did he care?

He filled in the awkward break. "There are, of course, things to increase the ease of gliding into those upper notes. Habits I'm sure you already know."

"I…yes?"

He chuckled. "I needn't remind you. I have no doubt they've been hammered into you. Plenty of rest, eight hours a night, preferably. You are in school, so I realize that is difficult."

"I usually get between six or seven," she said, a little unsurely.

"At least seven," he instructed, his voice in full teacher-mode. "Fluids too, as you know, are essential. Water. Tea is fine. Coffee only sparingly.

"You must also desist from drinking soft drinks so frequently," he continued. "The amount of refined sugar in one serving is staggering and barely passes as a fluid. It will not hydrate you."

"How do you know I drink a lot of soda?" she demanded, her voice sounding the slightest bit panicked.

Was that a misstep? Had he erred in advising her against drinking soda?

"I observed you with your friends this afternoon and saw it in your hand," he replied automatically.

She was silent. Drat, he thought. He probably shouldn't have mentioned that to her.

"You saw me today?" she asked quietly. Then with more energy, "Well, why didn't you come and say hello?"

He hesitated. The conversation was going in a direction he did not like. "You seemed preoccupied," he said weakly. He cursed inaudibly. He sounded like a damned fool.

"I wasn't! You would have been welcome!"

Her tone was strange. She sounded less defensive, but the panic was still there. Erik fidgeted. He didn't want her to be afraid of him.

Imbecile, he silently berated. You'll chase her off before the week is out!

"Especially since…well, we've never met face to face…"

He frowned. Foolishly, he had hoped that she would have let that go. He knew their arrangement was unorthodox – everything about his life was – but he had hoped that she would continue to be distracted by the prospect of the audition, and let things be.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

He sighed. He was weary from the pretense. But what choice did he have? There was more at risk than just his own humiliation.

For better or for worse, he had a job to do. Despite not caring about the fate of this hypocritical government, his dull sense of pride refused to let him fail.

He couldn't let that be compromised. At least not this early into the job.

He hardened himself, and responded. "We will continue on as we have, Miss Daae. Or would you prefer we did not carry on at all?"

She was quiet for a few minutes, obviously digesting his turn from gentility to hostility.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I know I pry too much. I'll respect your privacy."

He knew she would, for now. After all, she had no means of discovering him.

The better question was whether he would respect hers.

A/N: Guys, I think I'm finally getting back into it. I've got the next few chapters outlined, so there should be a shorter break between chapters!

Fingers crossed! Please let me know what you think!