Gus felt bad that he hadn't written Vivian nearly as much as he had been. She wrote him almost daily, and he had written her just as often, but the rapidly approaching deadline of opening night and a score that wasn't yet completed, he didn't have time for much besides work. He was sleeping less and less with the pressure to get everything done, and every waking moment Gus was either working on the score or thinking about working on it.

He had however, taken a few moments to write Joseph in an attempt to alter their agreement. Gus was going mad without Vivian, and could hardly stand the thought of not even being able to propose to her until after the season's end. He worried that she wouldn't be willing to wait that long, and with him not there, he was afraid she'd leave him for another man. So in his letter, Gus had begged for permission to propose to her when he came home for the Christmas holidays. He was hoping that it would prove to Vivian that he was serious about their relationship, and it would give him something to look forward to, both until the holidays and the proposal, and afterwards when he could hopefully be preparing to plan a wedding. Thankfully Joseph had agreed as long as Gus still completed the season in the city, so once the score was rewritten, he could focus his attention on finding a ring for Vivian.

"How are things coming?" Richard asked, shaking Gus out of his thoughts.

"I am never going to do this for you ever again."

Richard chuckled. "I never really intended for you to do the whole thing, but I should have known you wouldn't be content redoing just pieces."

"But I'm not doing the whole thing," Gus replied. "I can't redo the singer's music in time for them to relearn it before the show so that has to be left alone. But some sections the musicians may be getting just a few days ahead of time."

The smile on Richard's face faded slightly. "But how are you doing? Christine has been fussing that you look too stressed and overworked."

"Mrs. Destler has no need to worry. It's nothing I can't handle." Even as the words left his mouth, Gus knew that wasn't one hundred percent true. As the deadline loomed closer, he was feeling the pressure more and more. Sleep was quickly becoming a luxury Gus was no longer could afford. If his pride would allow it, Gus would have handed his father a half-finished pile of garbage to sit back and watch the show burn, but he wanted the satisfaction of showing him up so much more. "Tell her I can take care of myself."

If Richard saw the circles under Gus' eyes, he chose not to say anything. "I'll pass the message along." He sat down beside Gus and began to thumb through what was already finished. "So Thanksgiving is coming up."

Gus wanted to scream. Just because he told him that he could handle the stress didn't mean he had time for meaningless small talk. However, he also didn't want to tell off Richard, one of the few people he genuinely liked around here. Instead, Gus simply bit his tongue and kept his head down, only half listening as he focused on his work.

"Clara and I were talking and she was afraid that since you're in the city this year you wouldn't have anyone to spend it with and since Erik and Christine…" Gus tried to listen, he really did, but there was just so much that needed done yet, and Richard wasn't always the most direct person. "Would you like to join us?"

"Mmhmm." It wasn't until after he had spoken that Gus realized he wasn't exactly sure what he had agreed to.

"Great," Richard said with a smile. "Clara will be glad to hear it. I think she was expecting everyone around three."

"Three," Gus repeated. "Three on…"

"Thanksgiving?"

"Right. Sorry, I…" He gestured helplessly towards the pile of work in front of him.

"You're busy, I know," Richard said with a laugh. "Erik does that to me all the time too. I'm used to it at this point." He clapped his hand on Gus' shoulder. "I'll let you get back to work."

Christine knocked on the door to Erik's office in the opera house before pushing it open. He was sitting at his desk, going over some paperwork and barely glanced up as she let herself in. She knew Erik didn't particularly care about the business side of things, and much preferred the more artistic side, but what needed to be done, needed to be done. "I knew you were planning on working late, so I had Ruth pack you something extra for supper," she explained, placing the basket containing his lunch in front of him.

"That was thoughtful of you, but unnecessary. I would have managed."

"Which means you wouldn't have eaten, and now I feel better knowing you have something," Christine countered. Erik smiled at her stubbornness. Christine couldn't help but notice the deep tiredness within his eyes. Gustave's sudden arrival had shaken their world, and their son had resisted their every attempt to reach out and become a family again. He was so bitter and angry, and their foiled attempts at getting their son back were taking a toll on both of them. Christine didn't think she would ever be able to forgive Erik for lying to her, but she also knew that anything she could ever do to punish him would pale in comparison to the guilt that would haunt him for the rest of his life, the guilt that had been haunting him from the beginning.

The door opened behind them and none other than Gustave walked in. He looked like hell. There were dark circles under his eyes and a few days' worth of stubble on his cheek. The sight reminded her of Erik when the business had him stressed or he was up working late too many nights in a row; the resemblance was uncanny.

Gustave refused to make eye contact with either her or Erik and instead threw the music score on the desk. "There. There's still three days before the premiere. The musicians already have most of the changes, and with some work should be ready."

Christine reached out to touch him, but Gustave yanked away. "Are you alright?" she asked, trying to hide the fact she was hurt.

"I haven't slept in a week, I honestly could not tell you the last time I ate, but the score that I never asked to do is finished, and that's all that really matters isn't it?"

She tried to grab his arm as he turned on his heel, but he eluded her grasp. Gustave pulled open the door to leave, but nearly ran to Richard who had his hand raised, as if to knock. Time seemed frozen for a moment as they all stared at each other. "He's here," Richard said, finally breaking the silence. If he noticed the tension between the trio, he didn't say anything.

"Who is?" Erik asked. "Bishop?"

Richard nodded. "Word's gotten out that the show is being rewritten and he's come armed with questions."

Erik abruptly stood, so Christine took his hand and squeezed it gently. She knew Bishop was the bane of Erik's existence nothing Erik ever did was enough to make him happy. Christine had tried to tell him time and time again that one critic's opinion didn't matter, that the opera house was successful with or without him, that Bishop didn't really know anything about opera or high European society anyway, that he was just another American, but Erik took it as a personal attack.

"Where is he?" Erik asked, as he followed Richard out of the office. Christine kept close behind, knowing that if someone could keep Erik calm during this confrontation, it was probably going to have to be her.

"In the foyer."

"Excuse me!" They whirled around to see Gustave standing in the doorway of the office angrily. "If he's here because of the rewrites, should I be the one talking to him?"

"No," Erik snapped, as he resumed heading down the hall.

"Why not?" Gustave demanded, rushing forward to match pace with his father. "Last time I checked, you didn't do a damn thing!"

"I doubt you're ready for this," Erik countered. "Bishop hates everything that has to do with this place no matter how good it is."

"And I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact you're such a warm inviting person."

"Gus…" Richard said warningly, as Christine realized they were reaching the foyer. Showing up with Erik and Gustave bickering would not look good in front of the critic. She put her hand on her son's shoulder, trying to calm him some like what she did with Erik when he was on a tirade, but Gustave just twisted away.

Before anyone could stop him, Gustave threw open the doors to the foyer. Bishop turned in shock at their abrupt entrance, but Gustave had stopped in his tracks. For the first time since he was a boy, Christine saw his eyes genuinely light up and a wide smile spread across his face. "Fred, you son of a bitch!"