"Christine! Christine, wake up!"

Christine groaned, glaring up at Meg with half-opened eyes. "Meg," she groused, "My morning class was canceled."

"Oh, I don't care about that," her friend responded. She was vibrating with energy. "My mom texted me. The cast list is posted!"

Christine shot up in bed, wide awake. "Really?" She grabbed her phone off the nightstand. She thumbed past her notifications and opened the app for email. She frowned. "I don't see anything in my inbox," she croaked.

"So?" Meg answered impatiently. "Go to Reyer's classroom! I bet the list is posted there."

"Do I really need to, at this point? I didn't get an email. And what if he has a class this morning?"

"O-M-G, Christine." She pulled on Christine's arm. "Let's go."

They were out the door twelve minutes later, Meg practically dragging Christine along. They managed to draw some attention to themselves on the way over, specifically from Andrea, who immediately took her phone out of her designer handbag when she saw the two of them hurrying by. Christine had groaned at that, knowing without a doubt that Andrea was texting Cara to alert her. It prompted Christine to match Meg's pace, which only made her friend walk faster.

The classroom was blessedly empty when they got there. Professor Reyer was absent, which confused Christine somewhat. It was early, and even if he didn't have a class, he had to have been there to post the list. Christine hadn't the time to puzzle that out, however, because Meg was dragging her once again. Only this time, to the cork board.

"Christine…"

Her friend's voice was amused. It took her a moment to realize why that was.

Christine had closed her eyes at some point.

"C'mon, Chris." Meg shoved her in front of the board, her voice radiating smugness. "Take a look."

Christine's eyes drew down the line. They moved so rapidly, she almost missed her name.

Fumbling inside the pocket of her jeans, she grasped onto her phone with slippery hands and unlocked the screen. She pulled up her text messages, and scrolled to the third name down, listed after Mrs. Valerius and Meg.

I'm in! I got a part in the opera!

She didn't wait longer than ten seconds before he responded. Which part?

She shook her head slightly, lips quirking in amusement. Leave it to her tutor to bypass congratulating her and get straight to the meat of the matter.

She started to type a sarcastic reply, but quickly deleted it. Sarcasm over text message would not be well-received.

She gave him the name of the character. Her fingers felt jittery as she typed.

He took longer to respond than he usually did. She watched with lessening patience as the ellipses appeared and disappeared several times. Finally, he settled on:

It's a start.

She rolled her eyes. Without thinking about it too much, she tilted the screen at Meg. "I told my tutor," she said, somewhat sullenly. "This was his response."

Meg looked down at the screen, frowned, than looked up at Christine. "You told him first?"

Christine tilted her head. "Of course." She nudged Meg with her elbow. "You're already here," she reminded her teasingly.

Meg shook her head, a frown on her face. "I just thought you might tell Raoul first." She looked at Christine strangely.

"Well," Christine said slowly, "Raoul wouldn't really understand the significance of this. He'll probably be happy so long as I am."

Meg nodded slowly. "True." She looked down at Christine's phone again. "Not easily satisfied, is he?"

Christine scoffed. "No, not so much."

A crowd finally burst through the door. It was mainly made up of Cara's posse, but Christine recognized a few of her fellow students in the school of music. Most of them were upperclassmen, except for Eddie, whose presence was a surprise.

"Move," Andrea said, shoving one of the other students out of her way in order to see the board first. She scanned the announcement quickly, which didn't surprise Christine. Cara's name was at the top of the list, after all.

When Andrea turned back around, it confirmed what Christine believed would be the reaction to Cara being named understudy to the lead.

Andrea's mouth was pinched. She drew up her phone, looked down at it, and hesitated.

"Something wrong, Andrea?" Meg chirped.

Andrea's gaze zeroed in on Meg. "No," she answered woodenly.

"Funny, because it seems to me-" The breath left her in a whoosh as Christine pinched Meg's side in warning. It quieted Meg, but not soon enough. Andrea approached the pair of them, looking vastly annoyed.

"I'd watch my tongue, Giry." She looked down at Meg for one long, hot moment, during which time Meg bravely met her gaze. Andrea spared Christine a quick, unimpressed look before leaving the room altogether.

Meg rubbed the spot where Christine pinched her. "Why did you do that?" she complained.

"Because," Christine said, looking unimpressed, "I don't want you getting on anyone's bad side for me."

"Well," Meg said with a sniff, lifting her chin imperiously, "If she can do that for Cara, why can't I do the same for you?"

"Because I'm not paying you enough," Christine said around a toothy grin, eyes sparkling.

Christine looked back at the board, her heart lifting. This was good. As Erik said, it was a start. A real start. She was going to make her father proud.

Meg pulled her into a hug. "Congratulations, Christine. I'm so proud of you. You're one of only four non-seniors in the cast, you know, and that's including Cara and her pointless understudy status."

"I can't believe they made her understudy," Christine said under her breath, walking a little ways away from the crowd. "She's going to be so mad."

"Yeah, but there's not really a lot she can do about it," Meg said, observing the crowd that had gathered in the classroom.

Christine looked at her, lost. "What do you mean?"

Meg shrugged. "Well, it's the only real part they could have offered her. Think about it." Meg returned her shrewd gaze to Christine. "She's not a senior, so she can't very well have the lead part without causing a huge commotion, no matter who her daddy is. But she's still Cara." Meg rolled her eyes. "She can't take a lowly supporting role, even if it would mean getting her own song."

Christine furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Why, because it would be beneath her, of course!" Meg said with facetious aplomb, gesturing wildly in the air.

Christine laughed a little before sobering. "Too bad for her. I'd happily take a supporting role. Especially if it comes with an entire song to myself."

"Well, you're only a sophomore. And this is a very good first step," Meg opined, the voice of reason.

Christine smiled, a slow, happy curving of her lips. "You're right. This is great!"

"Isn't it, just?" Eddie appeared at her elbow, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "We'll all be working together!"

"You too, Eddie?" Christine released a chuckle. "That's great! Oh, and Meg will be in the dance corps. You remember Meg?"

Meg smiled thinly and nodded. "Hey. Congrats."

Eddie flashed a thousand-watt smile in her direction. "Yeah, you too." He looked to Christine. "Well, better give my parents a call. They'll be thrilled to hear their son isn't wasting their precious trust fund for nothing."

He left, the girls watching him go. "He has a trust fund?" Meg asked, an odd note in her voice.

Christine turned back to her. "Yeah, he's mentioned once or twice that his parents are well off. Why?"

Meg didn't meet her eyes. "Nevermind."

Christine looked back down at her phone, curious to see if Erik had texted again. Would you be so kind as to take a picture of the list?

'Well, when he asked like that,' she thought.

She did as he bid, able to to take a quick photo with the camera of her phone before the crowd closed in again.

I see Cara Bergamasco did not succeed in capturing the lead role. Poor girl. Should we send a conciliatory fruit basket?

Christine giggled. Of course. It's the decent thing to do.

Of course, he agreed.

Meg was near enough to peak over Christine's shoulder. She snorted right under Christine's ear. "He certainly knows the way of things around here." Meg tossed her head, and Christine knew that meant Meg was coming around in regards to her tutor. "Well, I guess someone should be ambitious on your behalf. It can't all fall on me."

Christine smiled. "I guess not!"

It was six o'clock in the evening when a knock came at Nadir's door.

He looked up from the television and frowned. He was not expecting anyone, and while he had been thinking of ordering takeout, he hadn't called anyone yet.

He set aside the laptop he had propped on his lap, ignoring for the moment the file that had been pulled up on the screen. He felt around for the Glock he kept behind the pillow cushion on his armchair and, arming himself, walked to the door.

He peered through the peephole. It was black.

'Well,' he thought, 'Someone's here to murder me.'

"You may put your firearm away, Daroga, it is only me," came Erik's voice in his ear.

He couldn't help himself. He jumped. Glaring at the door, he stored the gun in the back of his pants. Thinking twice, he rushed to the laptop, shut the screen, and walked back to open the door.

"Nadir," Erik said with a nod, walking, without further preamble, into Nadir's apartment.

Nadir shut the door behind him, his mood clouding over. "You might have the courtesy to not mention that I own a gun. The walls are very thin here, and possessing a gun tends to make people jumpy."

"And you would do well to not insult my skill at stealth," Erik replied tersely, alluding to the bit of ventriloquism he performed. "If nothing else, it is you who is more likely to inform the building with your whinging."

Nadir bristled, but said nothing. He watched as Erik walked around the room, observing the tidy space around him. He noted the television, the two armchairs, the sofa, and the coffee table, no doubt. His gaze fell on the ashtray too, currently holding a cigarette Nadir had not yet put out.

Erik turned back to him. "I daresay the United States Government will not be pleased if you lose first and last month's rent due to your filthy little habit, Daroga."

Nadir strode over to the ashtray impatiently, quickly stubbing out the inflamed end of the cigarette. "You know," Nadir began impatiently, "When I gave you the address of this apartment, I didn't think you'd actually visit. Especially considering that you were assigned an apartment of your very own down the hall." Nadir crossed his arms over his chest, an eyebrow raised in challenge. "You recall, I'm sure? The one you rejected for no good reason?"

"Quite," Erik answered absently, running a finger along the crown molding to check for dust, as well as to thoroughly annoy Nadir. "Come and put the kettle on," he said, moving in the direction of Nadir's kitchen. "I don't know where you keep your tea things."

Nadir shook his head, but gave no other sign of resisting. They fell into their patterns so easily. No doubt he had become predictable in his old age, and Erik certainly played him like a fiddle. It was comforting, in a way. It meant Erik wasn't currently plotting to kill him.

"So?" Nadir prompted once he had made them both a cup. He had offered Erik what meager food stuffs he had available in his fridge, but predictably, Erik had declined. "You've come here for a reason, I'm sure?"

"Yes."

Nadir fidgeted, his fingers itching to grab for his pack of cigarettes. "I am positively tingling with suspense."

Erik gave a short bark of laughter. "Now, now, Daroga, sarcasm is hardly suiting to a member of the Bureau." He took a dainty sip from his cup, always mindful of the mask, before setting it down. "I've simply come to debrief. Isn't that what special agents do when they're working a case?"

Nadir narrowed his eyes in Erik's direction. "Yes. They do."

Erik spread his hands. "Well, here I am."

Nadir sighed exasperatedly. "Erik, history shows that you do not have a taste for accommodation, nor for being a team player. What could possibly sway you to change now?"

Erik leaned back in his seat. He looked away from Nadir, affecting an air of nonchalance.

Nadir paused, a thought occurring to him. "It wouldn't have to do with that girl, would it?"

Erik turned back to look at him. He considered Nadir, and since whatever he saw on Nadir's face did not immediately irritate him, he opened up a little. "It does."

Nadir said nothing, allowing the silence to press into the room and prompt Erik to speak.

The masked man interlaced his fingers and propped one foot upon the knee of the opposite leg. "She has been cast in the Conservatory's spring opera, thanks in some small part to myself. I am hoping that by keeping near to her throughout the process, I may learn more information about the school."

Nadir tilted his head.

Erik rolled his eyes, the light catching from Nadir's floor lamp. "Fine. In addition to that, I also have a personal interest in the form of my student's success."

"You mean Christine Daae's success," Nadir corrected.

Erik's mouth tightened. "Careful, Daroga. I am willing to comply with this idiotic investigation but do not forget what lengths I will go to should I feel threatened."

Nadir frowned, trying to form his next words carefully. "I won't give you any more grief about it, as I know that I continue to breathe at your pleasure." Nadir shook his head. "I will urge you, however, to be careful. I have no doubt that there is something special about this girl to have captured your attention, but you are putting yourself in a dangerous position by allowing yourself to get so close. I mean, what have you even told her? Surely she knows you're not a teacher, and I won't insult you by asking you if you've told her the truth."

"I thank you," Erik replied drily. He inclined his head. "I told her a version of the truth. That I am working security for the school."

"Ah, yes," Nadir chuckled. "I heard about the ballerina. Word at this school travels very fast. Madame Giry was not exactly pleased to hear that one of her girls was almost attacked."

"Yes, well," Erik straightened his gloves. "Despite the fact that Giry's department is overrun with silly young women, the one from the other night was doing nothing wrong, save for being female in this abhorrent city." Erik shrugged. "Plus, I was bored."

Nadir cocked an eyebrow in Erik's direction. "Since when is it your responsibility to act on behalf of the MPD as well as the FBI?" Nadir inquired.

Erik looked stonily back at him.

Nadir had his answer.

Erik rolled his eyes. "This city is a cesspool of criminals. And I'm not just talking about the politicians. Law enforcement is in over their heads. Which is why it only follows that they were desperate enough to involve us."

"And they judge the Middle East without impunity." Nadir shook his head. "They ought to look in a mirror."

Erik bit back a smirk around the rim of his cup.

Nadir looked at him seriously once more. "You think getting close to this Daaé girl is the best way to learn more about Cartier?"

Erik set down his tea cup. "Perhaps not the best way, but it is the way I've chosen."

Nadir glanced at his laptop, and sighed. "Well," he allowed, "A paper trail will only tell us so much. Having an inside person, as it were, would be helpful. So long," he said, pointing a finger in Erik's direction, "You do not tell her what you're really here to do."

"Believe me, my dear Nadir," Erik said humorlessly, "There is very little I would not do at this point to keep Christine in the dark regarding myself."

Erik left sometime later, to Nadir's instant relief. After he had put away the remainder of their tea, he opened the screen of his laptop once more, settling in to read the file he had pulled up previously.

Christine Daaé, born November 2, 1998, of Wilmington, Delaware. Only child of Viggo and Livia Daae, both deceased. No known living relatives. Ward of Mrs. Louisa Valerius of Brooklyn, New York.

Eyes: Light Blue

Hair: Blonde

Height: 5'4"

Build: Slight

Currently attending Cartier Conservatory, School of Music. Second year.

Nadir glanced over the information, something unpleasant churning in his stomach. He looked up from the computer and eyed the door. He chewed on the nail of his left thumb, hesitating, before giving up his internal battle with a sigh.

Special interest and known affiliate of Consulting Agent Erik Moaadi, of FBI Case #: Classified.

Nadir added this last line, saved the file, and attached it to an email. He sent the email off, and immediately reached for his pack of cigarettes.

He always knew he was meant for a sorry end, but if it was to be, at least he could leave this world with a clearer conscious.

A/N: So since February is the shortest month, that means I can post the shortest chapter. Right...?

As always, I wanted to get this out sooner, but it is what it is. More of a filler before we get to some juicy plot points. I wanted to throw in some information about our dear duo, so this felt like a natural way to do so.

In case you're wondering how Christine is 19 and was born in 1998, I'm setting this story in the year 2017, since technically this is when I started this fic. I also decided that she would be born in Delaware, since that is where a lot of Swedes settled when they came to America, and is the home of the Queen Christina River, as well as the Ole Swedes Church. Just in case this detail doesn't make it into this story, Christine's parents met Professor and Mrs. Valerius while they were visiting DE and followed them back to NY. Thus, why Christine lived in NY, and thus how she was able to meet Raoul.

You'll also notice Erik's last name is Persian. That was done on purpose. We'll talk about that more at a later date.

I'm also reserving the right to change any of the details I shared here regarding Christine and Erik's past, but if I do change them, I'll let you guys know!

Thanks as always for reading, I really and truly appreciate it. Feel free to leave a comment or visit me on Tumblr if you want to chat. Until next time!