Meg and Erik spent the next three weeks walking on eggshells. The only time they ever really interacted was when Erik was checking on Meg. Although Meg was still depressed about her mother's death, she was beginning to see how remorseful Erik was. Whenever he was around her he kept his head down and Erik never looked her in the eye. Meg understood that her mother had been his savior in a way, but she didn't know how long it would take till she could fully forgive him. It seemed her mood fluctuated, on minute she wanted to forgive him and have a real conversation, but the next it was all she could do not to scream at him.
Erik walked around his home in a stupor. He couldn't believe she as actually dead. Erik would sit at his small table and stare at the food he rarely ever bothered to make for himself. He couldn't stop thinking about how he deprived the young woman in the room just beyond his, of her only known living relative. Erik wanted to be there for her but since he had no experience with people, he didn't know how to comfort her. He just left her alone.
Other times he would sit at the organ and let his fingers wander over the black and white keys. His music was no longer a comfort for him. True it gave him a place to vent, but he never seemed able to get everything out. He composed small pieces that he rarely could play without dissolving into a quiet flood of tears.
Erik felt ashamed of crying. He knew it was his fault Madame Giry was dead. He didn't think he had any right to cry. He wanted someone to hold him and tell him everything would be okay… someday. The only person that was around though, was Meg, Erik was pretty positive that Meg wasn't going to lovingly embrace him and forgive him, let alone touch him.
After a while Meg's ankle, which had been twisted severely and not sprained, had gotten better. Although she still could not walk long distances or dance, she could walk in moderate comfort around the lair. The thing Meg had found most embarrassing, was when she could not get to and from the washroom. She was thankful for the independence that the crutches gave her.
"Erik," Meg hobbled into the room. Her blonde hair was slightly tousled and her brown eyes were bright.
"Yes Meg?" Erik glanced up at Meg with his golden eyes causing her to shiver under his gaze. Erik's eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul and look into her most private thoughts and feelings. She looked into the golden orbs that were his eyes and tried to hold them with her own. Meg tried to mover her mouth to say something resembling words, but the only thing that came from her mouth were stutterings and stammerings. Erik raised his eyebrow. "What Meg?" Just as Meg began to open her mouth again her stomach rumbled.
"That is what I was trying to say. Weeks of no conversation has made my communication skills a bit… off…" Meg trailed off helplessly and shrugged apologetically. She had tried to make it sound hostile and accusing, but it came out meek and apologetic. That was not what she wanted.
Erik shook his head. "I understand. Come, I will show you the kitchen." Meg sighed at her sudden lack of conversational skills and hopped after Erik into the small kitchen. She looked around at the typically colored room. All the wood was a deep mahogany and the metals in the kitchen were black. There was a door off to the right that led to a pantry and the cabinets that lined the walls were inlaid with glass so you could see the contents. There was a small icebox in one corner and a stove in the corner farthest away from it. As in the rest of the house this room was not very warm.
Erik disappeared into the pantry and came back with a loaf of bread and a small crock of strawberry preserves. "Here," he handed them to Meg then went back to went back to get her a cup, knife, spoon and plate. Erik came back and put the stuff on the table and went to leave.
"Wait." Meg twisted in her chair to look back at him. Erik looked at her incredulously. "Sit, please? We need to talk. At least a little…" Erik made his way over to the chair across from her.
"What do we need to talk about?" Erik slouched in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He never looked up to meet her eyes.
"God, Erik!" Meg slammed her fist into the table causing the plate to jump. She stood up and leaned across the table desperately. "What isn't there to talk about? We have both been moping around like the world is ending." Erik looked up at her briefly before going back to studying the stone floor. "We haven't talked about it at all!" Meg laughed just slightly hysterical. "Actually we haven't talked at all, about anything. Not even a 'Good morning, how's the weather?' What is all the silence going to do? What is it supposed to do?" Meg knelt at Erik's side. "Erik, what is it going to do?"
Erik looked Meg in the eye for the first time in weeks, and held her gaze. "I don't know Meg. What do you want me to say? She was my friend. She saved my life and I killed her." Erik gave a laugh/sob, "What do you want from me?"
"I want a conversation. I want interaction. I want to be able to look someone in the eye. I want so many things Erik. I want someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be alright, that everything is going to be okay in the end. I want to be able to find love. I want so many things… so many things. And the thing is I don't know where to get them." Meg stared at Erik with eyes that shone. "What do you want?"
Erik picked up Meg's hand in his cool one and held it. "Meg it will be okay. I cant tell you when or where or how, but I can promise you that one day everything will be okay. You will even find your knight in shining armor. But you know the thing I want? I want to be able to look back on everything and know that I had some thing in my life that I did right. I want forgiveness for all the things I have done in my life. And just like you, I don't know where to get them."