Chapter Three
The Deal

Gaston had been visited by his first dream in what seemed like years that night. The potential Eloise had brought him to avenge the name of his father left thousands of ideas dancing in his head. He no longer cared for the words of Mr. Lefevre and Gaston, only Eloise. For the first time in years, Gustave had been visited by a good dream, not one of his regular nightmares. Nightmares that would leave him gasping for air, second guessing the death of his father, and fearing that sooner or later, Raoul would find him – questioning why he had become this way.

He found the organ once more and began to play what was left of his father's beautiful music, hoping that Eloise would hear it and follow the melody. Her bow lay neatly folded on his desk, beside one of his fathers cracked masks. Was this how his father met his mother? Did he too wish to scare the audience and the owners of the Opera House? This wasn't Gustave's life anymore – it was Erik's. One of Gustave's nightmares had been precisely of that, living the life of a dead man at the age of twenty one. Did he want that? Did he want to precisely the legacy that his father left behind? Or did he want to go back to Raoul?
He shook the thought clear from his head again and began to angrily play the organ. The thoughts that haunted him didn't dare come back once he began to play scores from previous Opera's, especially Don Juan – the last opera to ever grace the theatre before it had been rebuilt. Every song he would play, he sent a prayer out for his mother and father, hoping they had maybe met in heaven, although he prayed even harder that Erik had made it there.

"Ghost?" He heard tenderly for above. Gustave smiled to himself, happy to another voice other than the owners.
"You have returned," said Gustave with a sigh of relief.
"I have come for my ribbon monsieur." Eloise interrupted, twiddling her thumbs and thinking anxiously about how he may give it to her. Could he pass through floors?
"You may have your ribbon Eloise."
"What's your name?" She exclaimed suddenly, "You must have a name…" She sounded much like she was trying to reassure herself.
"I cannot let you know such things so easily."
"Monsieur, I cannot return. I beg of you, send my ribbon and I shall be off."
Forever? Gustave thought grimly. The one voice that had brightened his very thoughts the previous night would be gone for good. Just as the opera house would've been. Just as his parents were. He sent the gas up once more and with it her ribbon, letting it slip through his fingers once more. He could feel the happiness radiate off of Eloise as she gripped her bow tightly.
"Merci beaucoup!"
"You are not French, are you?"
"No, I am not. It was quite obvious, wasn't it?" Eloise let herself chuckle but began to back away from where Gustave's voice appeared.
"Mademoiselle Jo teaches you, does she not?"
"Yes, she does. Monsieur, I really must go –"
"Perhaps I should teach you." Gustave spit out, holding back his tongue. What would she tell the others and her teacher?
"You can speak French as well?"
"Oui mademoiselle."
"But you are a ghost –" Eloise stopped herself. "I must be going, father will be waiting for me within months and I cannot trust something that doesn't exist." She whispered coldly, frightened of what consequences her words would bring her.
"Where is your father, Eloise?"
"I mustn't talk to somebody I barely know."
"Should I tell the others of your delusional talk then? The nightmares you have?" Gustave began to recall what he had overheard Eloise talking to Brigitte about. He already knew Eloise had moved here during the summer in hopes of learning French so she could be accepted into a university in Quebec, Canada. Gustave had heard Eloise nervously muttering words to herself in the hallways above his lair, words regarding regrets she held with her parents and worries of losing more people in her life. He pitied her for making herself feel worse, although he was doing the same.
"How – how do you know? You really are a –"
"Ghost?" Gustave finished, "Stay with me. I will have you back to your father in less than three months. I shan't bother you more after that."
"What if I choose not?" Eloise asked, Gustave could feel the warmth in her body drop down to an icy temperature.
"I built the theatre – and I know the man who owns it." Gustave shook angrily for a moment in thought of Raoul. "I warned of a disaster beyond your imagination occurring – make your choice."
"I will return tomorrow then." Eloise sighed after a moment of hesitation. "You must tell me your name then. I deserve to leave with at least that."
Gustave smiled at the memories she had brought back of the night before. She was not so different than him, was she? A young women as he was man, separated from her parents in France, in search of a true friend. Perhaps he could be that.
"Gustave." He replied, feeling the warmth in his own voice return. He hadn't spoken his own name in years…
"I shall see you tomorrow then, Gustave." Before Gustave could bid her farewell, she had run off, slamming the door veraciously and leaving Gustave completely alone.

Maybe he was more like his father than he had hoped to be. Was this girl now his prisoner? Was she to be kept from the world above just to suit his liking? Eloise wasn't going to play Gustave's Christine, besides, he couldn't have any hope of her falling in love with a monster like him. His mother was different, and even Erik wasn't so lucky to have her return to him in time. Not before she died anyways. Angry at his thoughts, Gustave flung a candelabra at the lake and watched it sizzle down into the murky waters below. He took another and set his father's curtains on fire, watching the broken ashes hit the ground as he thought about what he had done and what he was continuing to do to himself. Falling to the floor, surrounded by smoke, Gustave wept silently, hoping that Eloise would return sooner, distracting him from his own mind.