when there's a thunderstorm in paris, meg is there to calm erik's nerves

tw: panic attack

i'm finally writing merik (meg/erik) content! ofserien on tumblr requested this sweet little fluff-filled oneshot, and i'm such a sucker for her merik fic 'only for you' (which you should definitely read, it's amazing) that she got me hooked on the ship, so here we are. enjoy!

He had tried to ignore it when it had started; the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the windows of their home had been almost soothing at first, inspiring him as he worked at the latest composition that had been occupying his mind, but when they got stronger and came along with bright flashes of lightning and loud thunderclaps, his anxiety had started to build at an almost exponential rate. He hadn't been able to focus on the sheet music in front of him anymore, his mind flooded with horrid memories of being left to cry alone in his mother's attic while thunderstorms roared outside, longing to be held in a pair of comforting arms and hushed or sung a lullaby, or when he was held captive in a tiny cage, completely exposed to the elements when it rained and the gypsies were staying put for the night. He could still practically feel the cold droplets beating down on him, soaking him to the bone and leaving him with only a chill to remember it by.

When his hands started to shake, he abandoned his composition, stepping out of his study as the room started to feel like it was closing in on him, almost constricting his ability to pull air into his lungs. He didn't want to wake his wife; he knew that Meg would scold him like there was no tomorrow if she found out that he had been struggling so much and didn't say a word, but he hated to bother her; with her work at the Opera House, rehearsing for hours at a time and then having to perform on top of that. And if her suspicions about a pregnancy were true...

He quickly banished that thought from his mind, already feeling it adding to the pounding of his heart. He had reached the parlour and had initially considered just sitting by the slowly dying fire, but the idea of sitting still was not an option anymore. He couldn't sit still when he was in this state, he knew that; that would only allow him to focus on how cold, clammy, and shaky his hands were, and with his wingbacked armchair, it would only make it feel like the room was growing even smaller than it already seemed to be. So pacing was the only option he had and it was the one he would go with.

He paused in that effort for only a moment to lean against the back of the sofa, trying to breathe in steadily through his nose and out through his mouth, but every breath was strangled and shaky, and just when he thought he might have had some semblance of a handle on it, a loud thunderclap practically shook the house. As he jumped slightly, a whimper slipped out of him; god, when was the last time he'd whimpered? He couldn't even recall, but naturally, the situation when that was all he did in the cage he was confined to on stormy nights such as these came to mind. Left in the cold, dark, rainy night, crying and quietly pleading with God to let his mother, as cruel as she could be, simply walk out of the darkness, free him, and take him home.

With a bright flash of lightning that lit up the room, closely followed by another roaring thunderclap, the shaking in his legs finally grew to be too much and he fell to the ground, pressing his back firmly against the back of the sofa as his breaths came in short gasps. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, his mask having been left behind in his study, to try and block out all the stimulation around him, almost as if not seeing the lightning would convince him that it wasn't really there. He realized the fault in his plan, though, when he still heard the roaring thunder, so he immediately pulled his hands away from his eyes to press them over his ears, desperate to keep any sound out that he could, his eyes still squeezed shut all the while. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his forehead against them, his breaths coming short and fast as he tried desperately to distract himself, but knowing that it was only inevitable that he would end up hyperventilating more than he already was and then the cold sweat would come followed close by tears and then...

Then there was a gentle touch on his shoulder. It made him flinch, true, but he knew who it was and just knowing that she was there made it even slightly easier to breathe.

"Erik? Erik, take your hands away from your ears," Meg whispered, gently wrapping her hands around her husband's wrists and pulling his hands down when he failed to move on his own. "I'm here, you're okay. Take a deep breath for me."

"I- I can't," Erik choked out, his forehead still pressed against his knees.

"Yes, you can. Everything's okay, just breathe, my love," Meg replied as she sat up on her knees and wrapped her arms around him, gently running her fingers through his hair with the knowledge that that always calmed him if he woke up from a nightmare or suffered from an attack such as the one he was in the midst of.

The warmth of her embrace was exactly what Erik had been dreaming he had had as a boy and it quickly began to calm him; he felt the pounding of his heart start to slow, and within a few minutes, he managed to lift his head to rest it on her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he slowly took a breath through his nose.

"There you are, it's okay," Meg whispered, one hand cradling his head to her shoulder while the other gently stroked up and down his back. "Just remember that everything is okay, you're safe. Tell me what you can think of that helps you remember that you're safe, okay? Go through them for me."

For a moment, he couldn't think of any at all, but slowly, all the things keeping him safe in their home came to his mind: "Th-the door is locked, and so are the windows. We have lights so I can see, and have you here."

"Good. I'm glad you mentioned me; you always have to remember that you aren't alone anymore," Meg said, a small smile on her face as she leaned back from their embrace and held his face in his hands, brushing a few stray tears away with her thumbs. "Everything is okay. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Erik nodded slightly, only to flinch when there was another clap of thunder, which moved him to quickly wrap his arms around his wife again to hold her tight.

"Oh, the storm is what's bothering you, okay," Meg said softly, nodding to herself as she began to piece together a plan to help him. "Alright, come on, let's get you up. We'll go sit on the sofa, I'll go make us some tea and I'll put another log in the fireplace to keep it going, alright? Everything's okay."

"Okay. Thank you," Erik whispered, smiling weakly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before he took her hands as she stood up and let her pull him up to his feet. His legs were still weak and shaky, he could tell, so he draped his arm around her shoulders for extra support. Not that she would be much help if he were to collapse; given their height and weight difference, he could drop like a rock and bring her right down with him.

The two slowly migrated to the sofa and Erik gave his wife a small smile as she grabbed her thick knitted blanket off of the back of the piece of furniture and wrapped it around him. "Thank you," he said again.

"Of course, my love. Now, just stay cuddled up like that. I'll go put on the kettle to boil and be back in just a moment, okay? You'll be alright, won't you?" she inquired.

"I think so, yes. I'll come find you if I'm not," Erik replied with a slight nod.

Meg nodded and leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead before she padded off towards the kitchen, her steps as light as they always were; what with her ballerina training, he wasn't a bit surprised. He loved how delicate she was, but at the same time,the fact that she could be fiesty and fight for herself only made him adore her all the more. Two polar opposites, perhaps, but his wife encapsulated them both and he couldn't be happier about that fact.

That was something he wouldn't mind seeing in their child, if they were ever to have one; the more the little girl or boy was like their mother, the better, in his mind. He knew that Meg disagreed and that she hoped they would have a son and that the boy would be just like him in every way, whether that include his practically non-existant face or not, and as much as he didn't want that at all, he tried his best not to smother her dreams; when it came to the baby, so long as she was happy, so was he.

She reappeared by his side without him even noticing, which was the curse that came along with her delicate footsteps, but it always made her giggle when he jumped slightly as she appeared next to him.

"I got you again," she said with a quiet laugh.

"Yes, you did," he replied, a breathy laugh escaping him as she sat beside him. He moved his arm to wrap it around her, pulling her under the warm blanket with him. "Is the tea on?"

"It is, yes. I have some chamomile set aside for you; it'll help you sleep," Meg said softly. "What is it about the storms that are so difficult for you, hm? I know they bother you, especially when they happen at night, but I've never seen you get quite so bad as you were when I walked in."

Erik sighed; he'd known the question as coming, but still had neglected to prepare a true answer. "I have bad memories of them from when I was a boy," he said simply. "They always frightened me, and I...I didn't always have someone there to comfort me when I was afraid, so that fear has stayed with me and has only worsened over the years, as childish as that may be. There are much worse things to be afraid of, but thunderstorms were always difficult."

He heard her sigh quietly before she set her hand on his chest, over his heart; that was something she always did when she was feeling particularly sympathetic for what he'd been through. "I'm so sorry. You deserved so much better," she whispered.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I have everything I could want now because I have you," Erik replied, resting his hand over hers. "And I know that you will always keep me safe, which I never thought I could have before; everywhere I went, I was in danger or exposed to the elements or running for my life. I was still in that position when we met at the Opera House, as hidden as I may have been; at any given moment, I could have been discovered and the gendarmes could have been down in the cellars, arresting me and dragging me off to prison or a much crueler fate. Now, though, I know that I am truly safe with you, ma fleur, and I couldn't ask for anything better."

Another sigh escaped her, but it was quickly followed by a breathy laugh, which Erik quickly discovered the reason for when Meg turned to look up at him and he noticed the tears in her eyes. "This was supposed to be about me stopping you from crying, not you making me start," she said.

"I am merely speaking the truth," Erik replied as he reached up to cup her cheek in his hand. "When I had panic attacks like that as a younger man, I was always alone to cope with them. Well, almost always; I had Nadir in Persia to guide me through them, and that was a true blessing, but he couldn't be there every time. Sometimes he would be working or asleep or tending to his son and I would have to deal with it alone, which often meant that I suffered through it before I fell asleep again simply out of exhaustion. Now, though i have you next to me in bed every night to help me when I have a nightmare and to rescue me when the thunder is so loud that it's the only thing I hear and I believe it is the only thing I will ever hear. I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I am glad to have you."

"And I am so very fortunate to have you," Meg said softly, tipping her head up to press her lips to his. "But just stay close to me, my love, and all will be well; it's only the rain, there is no need to fret."