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Gustave becomes suspicious as he visits Phantasma.

Also this chapter delves into his thoughts on certain matters.

Chapter Four

The Opera Ghost

A few days later...

Gustave had never been so thankful for the weekend. He was sick of people at school whispering and asking him about his fight with Danny, who he missed terribly, but he didn't feel like talking to him. Judging by his cold glares, Danny didn't seem ready to talk either. With neither one of them ready to speak, Gustave was on his own at school.

He was also thankful Mother had let him visit Coney this Saturday morning. Though he couldn't help but feel his Mother was still upset about something. He hoped he hadn't said something wrong to her the other day or maybe she was worried about him. She knew he and Danny still were not speaking.

Gustave did not know.

Gustave looked over his shoulder. His Mother had decided to stay home and prepare for her performance this evening. The nanny, Ms. Everett had accompanied him this morning, she was speaking with the two of the performers. He believed they were old schoolmates.

It wasn't quite time for lunch yet, but Gustave was feeling hungry. He sniffed the air.

Gustave could smell butter and salt. He was glad his lip was feeling better.

He sniffed the air again and soon his nose led him straight to Jo's cart.

"Mornin', Gustave," A man waved.

"Good morning, Jo." Gustave greeted the man.

Jo had worked here the last two years. During the hot summer months, he sold ice cream. Now that it was cool, he sold popcorn instead.

"One medium bag please," Gustave said.

"Sure t'ing," Jo nodded as he filled the bag.

While Gustave watched as Jo filled the bag, the conversation with his Mother still tingled at the back of his mind. "Jo?"

"Hm?" The Irishman looked up at him.

Gustave nearly paused, "Can I ask you something?"

"I s'ppose," Jo shrugged.

Gustave felt weird for asking this, but he wanted answers. "Since you work here, do your families get into Phantasma for free?"

Jo chuckled, "Nuthin in dis' world is free, kid. Not be good business." He shrugged. "We get d'scount tick'ts for families. S'ppose that'd be nice. Could bring me kids here mo'often." Jo shrugged. "O course, I'd have to spend mo' me days off here at work." He chuckled again.

Gustave wore a serious expression.

Jo saw the unhappy expression on Gustave's face, "Why?"

"Just wondering." Gustave mindlessly pulled some money out of his pocket.

Jo put up a hand, "On da house."

"It always is," Gustave just stared at the popcorn then at Jo. He had never thought anything of it before. That it was merely another perk of his Mother working here, but now... "Why is that?" His eyes were very accusing.

Jo frowned and shrugged. "Just doin' what 'm told."

"By who?" Gustave asked accusingly.

Jo didn't seem to like Gustave's tone. The man hesitated, "Da Masta's 'rders."

It took Gustave a moment to realize what Jo said with his thick accent.

The Master's orders?

Gustave knew who employees of Phantasma meant by "the Master".

Mr. Y.

Feeling sick, Gustave pushed the popcorn back. "Thanks, Jo, but I'm not hungry anymore."

Jo called after him, but Gustave didn't hear him.

"Gustave?" Ms. Everett chased after him. "Gustave, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" She held up his chin, "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you not feeling well?" She touched his forehead.

Gustave pulled away, "I'm fine. I just...I need to use the restroom."

"I'll be right out here," Ms. Everett called out.

Gustave gave a sort of nod as he rushed inside. He was thankful to find it vacant as he quickly opened and shut the door.

Gustave paced around the men's room. He didn't know if he wanted to shout, cry, or vomit. His stomach churned. Gustave walked over to the sink and gripped the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut. At the moment, he felt like doing the latter. Instead of hurling, he found only tears leaking out his eyes.

Gustave opened his eyes. Wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve.

He leaned back against the wall and sighed. Knowing it was time to open his eyes and face reality. He wasn't a little kid anymore.

It was time to stop being blind and naive.

His mother had once told me to look with his heart. Though perhaps the head applied more here, or both.

Gustave had slowly come to accept the idea that his parents were never going to get back together.

His father was rumored to be seeing some American heiress. He had even made vague references to a woman named Charlotte in his letters.

Gustave also knew his mother could one day see another man and perhaps marry him, but not yet. Not for a long time. And certainly not Mr. Y. No, not him of all people. Mother could never be with someone like him. Could she?

Again, it was time to stop being blind.

Gustave knew there were things his Mother was not telling him. Which saddened him deeply, because he used to think they were close. He told her everything—mostly. Sometimes he left out a few things, mostly minor or because he did not want her to worry. Gustave believed that was normal for anyone in his age. He supposed that was normal for parents too, but he felt this was bigger than a white lie.

Was it Mr. Y?

Gustave exhaled.

He thought back to the other day.

"Ralphie's told me about Mr. Y. Says he's a real freak." Danny gestured at his face. "Says his entire face was—"

Only half his face actually, but Gustave had no desire to share this information with Danny or anyone else.

Nor had he shared what else he knew about Mr. Y.

Along with his theory.

Months ago, while waiting backstage at the concert hall for his Mother, he accidentally overheard a very heated conversation between Madam Giry and Mr. Y.

"...like we need the police knowing who you really are!"

"There's no proof!" Mr. Y had argued.

For days, Gustave wondered what they were talking about. Why would the police be looking for Mr. Y? What had he done? Gustave had no idea, but it gave him even more reason to avoid and fear the man. Then he remembered the stories the servants used to tell him back in France.

Five-year-old Gustave and his close friend Violet had snuck out of bed and were running around the hallway.

Both children were giggling, never mind that they were about to be caught.

"Best go to bed!" The nanny whispered. "Otherwise the Opera Ghost will get you!" She giggled as she scooped up a grinning Gustave.

When Gustave was seven or eight, he learned that the Opera Ghost or Phantom of the Opera had been real. That he wasn't just a made up boogeyman designed to scare him, his cousins, the neighborhood friends.

The Opera Ghost terrorized the Opera Populaire's staff, murdered people, caused the infamous chandelier crash, and burned down the Opera.

An eight-year-old Gustave remembered asking his parents about the Opera Populaire.

They told him how his Mother worked there. She had started off as a ballerina and later became a famous soprano. While his Father had once been a patron there. That was how the former childhood sweethearts were reunited.

Gustave looked across the dinner to his Mother, "Did you ever see the Opera Ghost?"

His Mother went very still and quiet.

"There was no ghost." His Father said almost angrily. "Just a hideous, masked man. He died long ago."

After that, the servants never mentioned the Opera Ghost again. Gustave sensed his parents, probably Father told them to not mention it anymore.

Until he overheard Mr. Y and Giry's conversation, Gustave doubted he thought of the Opera Ghost in years.

Gustave could help but wonder...

Was Mr. Y the Opera Ghost?

But Father said he was supposed to be dead.

Besides, if he were really the Opera Ghost, why would his mother work for him? Maybe she never saw him up close or maybe he was entirely wrong. So he hoped.

Gustave shook his head.

Appearances and Opera Ghost suspicions aside, Gustave supposed Mr. Y wasn't all bad. Most of the people who worked for him always spoke very highly of him. Mr. Y had also created this wonderful place where he loved to spend so much time. Gustave supposed he was also grateful to Mr. Y for offering his mother a job. And for apparently letting him into Phantasma free of charge.

Gustave shook his head.

Such a revelation left Gustave confused. He did not understand why Mr. Y would do that. As much time as Gustave spent here, he could not even imagine how much money Mr. Y lost by letting him in for free. Mr. Y never struck him as the charitable type.

Again, why?

They were hardly friends, barely acquaintances. They had barely spoken in the last two years. He doubted it was because Mr. Y felt bad for scaring him two years. Was it truly because he and his Mother were...involved?

Gustave gulped.

And Mother knew, so did they hope to gain his approval and blessing? Not that Gustave would ever grant it, but could he even do anything to stop if it was true?

Gustave shook his head.

Even if Mr. Y did seek his blessing, then why didn't he reach out to him? Gustave had hardly seen him since the time he had revealed his face. And the few times had seen him, usually from a distance, Mr. Y would always stare at him. It made Gustave feel...uneasy. While Mr. Y would always look so happy, sad, afraid, and then with a twirl of his cape he would disappear. Gustave shook his head. Again, it made no sense.

Gustave thought back to when he and Mr. Y first met.

He had awoken after having a nightmare. He had gone to find his Mother and Mr. Y was there...

What was he even doing there? So late at night...

After his Mother introduced them, Mr. Y promised to show him around Phantasma, initially he seemed cool Gustave supposed. It looked like he and Mr. Y might have even been great friends.

Gustave smiled, as the song filled his ears.

"Have you ever yearned to go past the world you think you know?

Been enthralled to the call of the beauty underneath?

Have you let it draw you in, past the place where dreams begin?

Felt the full breathless pull of the beauty underneath?

Can you taste it?

Have you heard its music and embraced it?

Do you crave the visions that it shows you?

Do you wonder why it chose you, like it knows you?

Knows you have a darkness running through you?

If you're not afraid I'll show it to you," Mr. Y sang.

"You don't feel the darkness, do you?" Gustave remembered singing.

He and Mr. Y also seemed to have a lot in common. So Gustave thought, but then Mr. Y revealed to him the "beauty underneath" his mask. It was anything but beautiful. It was horrifying. In Gustave's mind, he could still see the flesh and bone. He winced.

Gustave put a hand up his mouth as he leaned over the sink.

Gustave remembered fleeing into his Mother's arms.

Then Mr. Y showed up and he was angry. Though about what, Gustave did not know. For screaming he supposed.

"How could you think I wouldn't guess? How could you think I wouldn't know?"

Know what?

What had he been talking about?

Gustave did not know. He just remembered being frightened.

Gustave had never considered this, but now he thought about it, Mother wasn't scared of Mr. Y at all.

In fact, Gustave remembered back when his Mother first introduced him to Mr. Y. She had called Mr. Y her "friend". When she started having rehearsals with him every Friday evening, Gustave remembered not being enthused at the idea. But Mother had tried to reassure him. She even revealed he was her singing tutor many years ago.

Eyes widened, Gustave stopped.

His mother first began to singing career back at the Opera Populaire.

So Mr. Y had been there.

Gustave straightened.

It was possible...

He bit his lower lip.

As much as Gustave didn't want to, he knew he had to face the possibility. Even if it wasn't Mr. Y, there may still be another man. He knew there was almost no way for his father, the Vicomte to be the father of his little sister, Isabel. For a long time, Gustave thought of Isabel as the Vicomte's child. He supposed it had been easier, but again, he understood how unlikely this was. He understood it took nine months to have a baby and his father was in France nine months prior to his sister's birth. His father had always brushed the subject aside whenever Gustave mentioned his sister with him. He had never even seen Isabel. Gustave asked his mother a few times, but his mother always found another topic.

There had a lot of talk about his sister's paternity. Gustave had done his best to ignore it. Shrugging it off, he did not care about her father's identity. He would love and protect her anyway.

However, Gustave also knew people didn't just whisper about Isabel's paternity.

At the back of Gustave's mind there were the petty rumors he had long ignored. None of them ever mentioned Mr. Y, but he knew in light of his mother staying behind in America and of course divorcing his father, people had questioned his mother's loyalty to his father during their marriage. He knew people had whispered behind his back while he had visited France during the summer. He had overheard some of it.

Gustave sat in the sitting room. In the sea of people, he could overhear two of neighbors, Timothy and Violet whisper.

"I can't believe Gustave is here." Violet was the same age as Gustave. When they were little, they had been inseparable.

Timothy was her cousin, he was a few years older and sometimes a bit of a bully. He nodded, "Yeah, apparently the Vicomte de Chagny invited him here for the summer. Though I wonder why?" He said in a superior tone.

"What do you mean?" Violet sounded concerned.

Timothy smirked, "He doesn't come from de Chagny stock."

Another night, Gustave overheard his Father and Aunt Sarah arguing after dinner one evening.

"It was sweet of you to invite him here, Raoul," Sarah sounded worried. "But are you sure that was wise? After all, you said it yourself—"

"That's enough, Sarah." Raoul said firmly. "I raised him. He's my son."

His Father's words had helped reassure Gustave. Again, he always shrugged it off, denying any possibility of truth. In the past, his parents had been happy. They had fallen out of love. There was no other man or woman.

And yet...

Gustave stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Gustave looked like his mother, everyone said so, and he would be the first to agree. They had same chocolate brown hair and eyes. However, Isabel looked nothing like the Vicomte or their Mother. Isabel had blue-grey eyes and hair as bright as the sun.

And if Gustave was being honest with himself, he was nothing like the Vicomte either. In physical appearance or personality.

Gustave pressed his lips together.

It wounded Gustave deeply to even consider the idea that there was any truth to the vicious rumors. How? How could it be true? How could his mother do such a thing?

The first ten years of his life were filled with happy memories to the contrary. Morning horse rides with his Father. Playing the piano while his Mother sang. Running around the gardens with his numerous cousins and the neighborhood children. Holiday mornings in front of the warm fireplace at his Grandparents' estate. Yes, there are endless memories that prove to how happy his parents and family were.

Yes, they were wrong, all wrong. They had to be.

Yes...

But there was still the matter of Mr. Y and what about Isabel?

Gustave exhaled.

Should he confront his Mother? But what if he were wrong? Despite his speculation, he still perhaps naively clang onto hope. He also did not wish to falsely accuse her. She had enough nasty accusations thrown at her the past two years.

He thought back to the books he had read. The ones where the inspector always searched for clues to the great mystery.

That was what he needed.

He wiped his eyes and nose. After he gathered himself, he exited the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Ms. Everett studied him closely.

"Better," Gustave nodded as he tried to smile. "Can we go home?"

"Of course," Ms. Everett put a friendly hand on her shoulder.

Gustave wore a determined expression. Knowing what he had to do.

He needed evidence.

What do you think? I've worried about making Gustave seem too dumb but then I worry about making him seem too clever. I mean he's eleven, nearly twelve at this point in the story.

I wanted Gustave to have an overall good life during the first ten years of his life. I admit I'm not the biggest Raoul fan, but I didn't like how Love Never Dies portrayed him. I don't think he was abusive. I also don't like how he's been portrayed in some fics. I don't think things were all that bad for Christine and Gustave. I would like to think and hope that there were some happy times and memories for the de Chagnys during those ten years.

Next: Gustave does some digging. Christine makes a decision.

Please leave a review. Pretty please.