Gus tossed and turned in a cold sweat. He was physically in bed in Virginia, but his mind was back on Coney Island all those years ago.
He had just had a nightmare of some unknown figure drowning him. When he found his mother to comfort him, she was on the hotel balcony with a strange man in a mask. She introduced him as a friend, as Mr. Y. Mr. Y seemed nice and picked him up, balancing him on the rail of the balcony so he could get a better view of the island. His mother gasped and grabbed his hand but Mr. Y gently pushed her back. "Madame, please!" Suddenly he felt uneasy and wanted down. Mr. Y was almost hypnotic, and he had offered without hesitation to take him through the park, but looking over, his mother was very nervous. Mr. Y only had a solid grip on him with one hand; it would be so easy for him to let go and send him tumbling to the ground far below. He tried to get back down but his foot slipped. Mr. Y pulled him back down, just before he fell.
He turned around and screamed.
They were alone in Mr. Y's workshop, and Mr. Y's face was maskless. He didn't know where he was, the people who had brought him here had led him through a maze of dark passages, and he didn't know how to get back to his mother. The automatons that had looked so intriguing and inviting moments ago were now terrifying. A pair of hands grabbed him from behind, leading him to cry out again until he heard his mother's soothing familiar voice. "Gustave, Gustave it's me! Go with Miss Giry back to the hotel; Meg, do you mind?"
"Please Miss Giry, I want to go back to my mother." She ignored him and continued dragging him towards the pier. "You're hurting me! I can't swim!" He clung to the railing as she brought him to the edge. He frantically looked back, knowing that his Mother and Mr. Y would come to save him.
But they weren't coming. Miss Giry pried his fingers away from the railing and gave him a rough push. He cried out as he slipped off the edge into the icy blue waters below. His arms and legs flailed, trying get him above the waves that were constantly pushing him further down. The salty water stung his eyes and his chest felt like it was getting crushed. He opened his mouth in an attempt to scream for help, but the water filled his mouth and nose. He couldn't breathe and it would only be a few seconds more before he…
Gus shot up in bed, his chest heaving. It took him a few moments to realize he didn't actually need to gasp for air, as he was never truly drowning in the first place. He got out of bed and staggered to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. "Pull yourself together," he snapped at his reflection. "It was just a dream."
But he had a feeling he wouldn't be going back to sleep that night. He hadn't allowed himself to think about those days in Coney for years. And the nightmare had been so vivid. Gus still felt slightly short of breath, even though he hadn't been anywhere near actual water. But Meg Giry hadn't been successful in her attempt to kill him that day; she never even got him into the ocean. His father was able to convince her to let him go, and his mother had been shot instead. What could that dream possibly mean?
He sat on the couch with his head in his hands. He was already under so much stress, not being able to get a full night's sleep was the last thing he needed right now. But he didn't want to go back to the nightmare, even though it was still several hours until morning, so he lit a cigarette and headed the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee.
Vivian leaned a little further over the railing of the box, trying to get a better look down into the pit. Gus looked sick when she saw him this morning and she wanted to make sure she could see him in case he got worse.
"May I join you?"
She jumped suddenly at the voice. When she turned around, Vivian was surprised to see Christine Daae standing in the doorway. While she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be near her after what Gus had said about her, Vivian didn't want to tell Christine Daae no when it was her husband's opera house and they tolerated her presence during rehearsals. "Yes, of course."
"You're Richard's niece, right?"
"Yes. I'm also Gus Chaney's fiancée."
Christine came and stood beside her. "You're a lucky girl. He's a lovely boy and it's clear he cares about you very much." She glanced over at Vivian. "You seem uncomfortable. Am I disturbing you?"
"Gus told me who you really are," she blurted out.
"Did he now?" She seemed extremely surprised.
Vivian nodded. "You're Christine Daae."
For some reason, Christine seemed disappointed, as if she was expecting a different response. "Yes, that's true. I suppose if you know who I am, then you know who my husband is as well." She nodded again. "Is that all he's told you?"
"He said you faked your death in New York."
She sighed. "The bullet was real. I still have the scar. But I did survive, even though most people thought I died that day."
"I don't understand why though. You were married to a Vicomte. You must have had everything you could ever want. How could you give all that up?"
"My marriage to Raoul wasn't glamorous. We had problems, many more so than the average couple. It wasn't meant to last. And if you truly love somebody, you'll do anything to be with them. But I'm sure you know that already."
"You truly love him? After everything he's done to you and who knows how many other people?"
"Erik's not a perfect man. He has done some terrible things, it's true, but you'd be surprised how many men are capable of similar or even worse. And he's capable of wonderful things as well. For as much pain and heartbreak he's wrought on this world, he's brought a lot of good as well. And truly dear, you don't get to decide who you love."
There was a knock behind them. They both turned to see Richard standing in the doorway. "Viv, I need you." Vivian excused herself then followed him out behind the opera house where most of the cast and crew were now having a break. Gus was sitting alone with a cigarette in one hand and his head in the other. She immediately felt worried. In all the years she had known him, Vivian had never seen Gus particularly sick. "Gus." He shot up immediately. "Viv's going to take you home."
He shook his head. "I'm fine, I swear."
"I'm not stupid," Richard retorted. "I'm not waiting until you collapse in the middle of rehearsal. I also know if I send you by yourself, you're not going to take care of yourself. Viv, your job is to make sure he gets home and gets some sleep."
"Richard, I don't need to go home," Gus protested. "And I certainly don't need a babysitter."
"Viv, take him home."
"Gus, you really don't look good. Please come with me," Vivian pleaded. He sighed and nodded before extinguishing his cigarette.
"Make sure he takes care of himself," Richard ordered.
When they got to Gus' apartment, he practically collapsed on the couch. "When was the last time you slept?" Vivian asked. "Or ate for that matter?"
"I'm fine. I had some coffee this morning before rehearsal."
"Coffee and cigarettes don't count as food. I'm going to go make you something."
"You don't have to do that," Gus protested, as she headed into the kitchen.
"Richard told me to take care of you," she called over her shoulder.
"Actually I believe he told you to make sure I took care of myself."
She came back a few moments later with a sandwich. "I don't see the difference." Vivian kissed his cheek and handed him the plate. "Besides, I'm your fiancée. I'm supposed to worry about you. Especially when you look like you haven't slept in over a month."
"It's only been about a week," he mumbled.
"That's still not good for you." Vivian walked back into the kitchen and began to rummage around while he ate. "You don't keep a whole lot of food in here."
"Well, I can't say I spend that much time here."
"I would at least appreciate the illusion since you're working yourself so hard," she replied. "I was going to make something for you to have later, but there's not enough for me to work with."
"You don't have to..."
"In sickness and in health, remember? I'm just getting some practice ahead of time."
"Viv, come here," Gus called. "We need to talk." She sat beside him on the couch, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized how sad he looked, which was even more dramatic with the extreme exhaustion in his eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't get married."
"What?" She immediately felt faint. "Why not?"
"You don't want to marry me."
"Is this because of Annabelle?" Vivian demanded, remembering the rumors she had heard in the theater.
"Annabelle? What are you talking about?"
"I overheard rumors at the theater about the two of you. I never said anything because I thought it was impossible, just gossip, but now…" Her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to stop a sob from escaping and failing.
"Jesus Viv, Annabelle is…" Gus looked utterly horrified and could barely talk in cohesive sentences. "I would never…She's a kid! God, I don't know who you heard, but they're wrong! I love you, I would never be stray, especially for Annabelle of all people."
"Then I don't understand. You say you love me but you don't want to marry me."
"Of course I want to marry you!" Gus shouted. "But you deserve someone better than me."
"Gus, don't say that. You're stressed, exhausted, and not feeling well. You're not thinking clearly right now. Right now, you need to get some sleep."
Vivian pulled him to his feet. Gus suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her hard. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, before kissing her again.
"Don't say that," she repeated in-between kisses. "Don't say that." Vivian's fingers ran through his hair as his lips travelled down her neck. Gus walked backwards towards his bedroom, pulling her with. Vivian pushed the door shut behind them just before the two tumbled onto the bed.
"Gustave!" He clung to the edge of the pier as his mother screamed for him. Mr. Y was holding her back as Miss Giry held his wrist with bruising force. He had never seen his mother so scared before, and that had him terrified. He didn't know how to swim, and if Miss Giry pushed him over the edge, he had no idea what would happen to him. Suddenly she let him go and he ran to his mother. She held him tightly, and he felt safe for a moment. That moment was quickly shattered by a loud BANG! His mother staggered backwards then sank to her knees, the life draining from her eyes. "Gustave," she whispered. "Gustave."
"Gus!" His eyes snapped open and jumped when he saw Vivian staring back at him. "Gus, you were screaming. Are you alright?" He felt like his heart was about to pound of his chest, and he immediately hated himself for looking weak in front of Viv. "Look at me, Gus, please." She gently turned his face towards him when he didn't respond. "Is this why you haven't been sleeping?" He reluctantly nodded. "How long has this been going on?"
"About a week," he admitted, finally speaking.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head. Vivian put her head on his shoulder. "I'm here if you change your mind."
He nuzzled against her, but froze when he saw her clothes on the floor. "Your father is going to murder me."
"Well he doesn't need to know. Besides, Richard told me to make sure you got some sleep. I was just doing what I was told," Vivian responded with a mischievous smile. When he started to get up, she pushed him back down and put her head on his chest. "A short nap doesn't fix a week of no sleep. You're not going anywhere." Gus chuckled, wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes, content for the moment.
