Meg found herself back in 'her room' later, full of food, warmed by a pot of tea and comfortably wrapped in an old dressing gown Erik had brought from New York. It was laughably long on her but much easier to breathe in.

The meal had been a simple but flavourful potée, which took Meg right back to her childhood and the odd times her mother had made a pot of it. She sat on a cushioned stool Erik brought in for her and watched as he quietly went to work in the small kitchen. The fluid movements of his slender hands were entrancing as Meg watched him chop, dice and deposit the vegetables into a copper pot. He said little and spent a not inconsiderable amount of time at the sink with his back to her.

Erik was somewhat shy when he finally presented her with a bowl of the soup and a thick slice of bread. She tried to be ladylike but her grumbling stomach wanted no such thing and Meg ate with gusto. Proclaiming the meal delicious earned her a rare smile.

Meg paced restlessly about the room, trying to decide whether she ought to go back to bed or seek out his company

"I suppose a look around wouldn't hurt. Who knows if he'll ever allow me back here again."

The floor was cold on her bare feet and the gentle slap of her soles on the stone sounded thunderous in the heavy silence. The hallway stretched into the gloom in one direction and the warm glow of firelight beckoned from another. Going the way of the moth, Meg followed the hall towards the firelight.

A small, tidy parlour filled with antiquated and almost feminine furniture greeted her. Had this room been intended for Christine when Erik had longed to make the soprano his bride?

"It belonged to my mother. The furniture." Erik's voice broke the silence, answering her thoughts.

"Oh!" she startled. Meg hadn't seen him slumped in the old wing back chair by the fireplace, a violin dangling from one hand. His mask and shadows concealed his face but his posture screamed defeat.

"It is very lovely." Meg said carefully; she sauntered over, willing her nervous heart to settle down. Erik snorted. "What? It isn't lovely?" She sat at his feet with her back to the fire, soaking in its heat.

"Oh, it's lovely, in that you are correct." Erik gently sat the violin on the decorative table beside the chair. Bitterness coated his every word. "Everything about my mother was lovely. Except for her soul; and me. But I'm not well positioned to pass judgment on my mother's soul." Meg placed a gentle hand on his knee and looked up, meeting eyes that looked a little too bright and perhaps a little wet. Not knowing what to say, she opened her mouth, hoping some comforting words would fall out. Erik's free hand pushed her roughly away.

"I do not want to talk about her." He spat. Regret filled his eyes and he held out his hand to draw her closer again. "Let us talk of your mother."

"My mother?" She repeated quizzically. "Why?"

"Your maman is gravely ill and yet you are here. She is all alone, Cricket."

"She has been gravely ill for an age." Meg grumbled uncharitably. "This hadn't been part of the plan. None of it had." Annoyance flared for a moment, who was he to chastise her?

"What was your plan?"

"To find you." Meg's face felt hot, she was annoyed that she had to justify her actions. "I didn't think about what else could happen."

"I am - flattered, you went to such lengths to find me." He squeezed her hand and took a shaky breath. "Erik is – that is to say, I am sorry that I didn't come to you. That you went through so much for such a poor result."

"Please stop." She frowned.

"Stop what?"

"Please stop talking so poorly about my friend."

Erik blinked in confusion and glanced around his chair.

"I mean you, you fool." She gave his leg a playful nudge. Erik let his hand stray to her cheek, cupping it lightly. Meg leaned into his touch; his bare skin was cool but not unpleasantly so.

"Erik has never had a friend before." He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Well you do now." Meg climbed into Erik's lap, his eyes wide with surprise but he slid an arm around her waist and held her steady against him. Turning her head, Meg softly pressed her lips against his cheek at the edge of his mask, lingering there, feeling him tremble slightly.

"Is this what friends do, Cricket?" His voice hitched as she shyly trailed kisses up his jaw line to his ear. His grip on her waist tightened and he caressed her face with his free hand before moving to her hair and burying his fingers in her wavy locks.

"No, Maestro." Meg whispered. Erik's breath grew shallower as she kissed just below his ear.

"Are you certain about this?" he whispered.

"Mmhm." She planted kisses down his neck and was almost certain that Erik had stopped breathing altogether.

"Erik?" She murmured. "Are you quite all right?"

"Y-yes. I'm all right." He dragged his fingers through her hair. "I am trying- very hard not to devour you."

"Please do." She sighed into his ear and he shuddered violently. Meg slipped a hand behind his head and pushed the mask away. Erik tugged her hair, pulling her face to his. The intensity in his yellow eyes was the last thing she saw before he crushed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. His hand dropped from her hair, skimming the skin of her neck and sliding into her dressing gown, tentatively resting on her breast. Meg shivered and pressed herself into his palm, encouraging his touch. Erik deepened their kiss, dipping his tongue in her mouth, his hand tracing the shape of her, brushing her hardening nipple beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. She moaned into his mouth; emboldened, Erik rubbed her nipple with his thumb, tweaking it between his slender fingers and she gasped. He broke their kiss, pulling away to watch her face as he teased and caressed her. His expression was serious as he took in her reactions; Erik learned quickly. Meg let her hand wander across his chest and down the thin fabric of his shirt and straying to his trousers, already tight with his arousal. She hesitated, and looked to Erik. He took a shuddering breath and slipped his hand into hers and guided it to his chest, placing it over his galloping heart.

"I - I am sorry." Meg's face burned with the rejection.

"Hush, Cricket." Erik kissed her tenderly. "You did nothing wrong. I - I just don't know if I could..bear your touch and still .." he paused, searching for the words. "Maintain myself."

"Maintain yourself- oh." And she felt her cheeks burn ever hotter, remembering the salacious dressing room talk from when she was a young ballet rat.

Erik chuckled, the ghost of a sheepish smile danced across his thin lips. With a sigh, Meg laid her head upon his shoulder, focusing on the steady thud of his heart beneath her palm. Erik absently stroked her hair as they remained in a companionable silence. For a long while, Meg lightly dozed against him until he shifted beneath her.

"I believe my leg is asleep." Erik's voice was apologetic. Meg gave him a quick kiss and unfolded herself from his lap, sliding to the rug nearer the hearth, stretching out to bask in its warmth. She watched the low flames undulating in their fiery dance. Her gaze occasionally slid over to Erik, who she caught watching her several times with a curious expression on his face. Meg got the distinct impression that she was being studied.

"Would Cricket be agreeable to Erik escorting her home now?"

"You are so eager for me to go." She teased, trying to keep the hurt she felt out of her voice.

"No." He said emphatically. "Only worried that your continued absence will cause your mother even more worry and bring the gendarmes into my cellars."

Meg stared up at the ceiling, considering the long shadows cast by the firelight. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully; he was not wrong as much as she loathed to admit it. Her maman would be worried and Meg knew that her whereabouts would not be a secret to her. Madame Giry would have no compunction in sending the police down here looking for her. Erik was unlikely very eager for a repeat performance of the last time company came calling at his door.

"I am afraid to let you out of my sight." She admitted.

Erik knelt beside her and enveloped her in a hug. She held on tightly, hoping to squeeze into him how she felt. "Do you not trust me, Cricket?"

"I don't trust you not to convince yourself that I am better off without you and vanish."

He pulled away and looked at her sadly. "You are better off without me, Meg." He held up a hand to silence the protest forming on her lips. "But, you have made it clear that you don't care about that."

"Have I?"

Erik kissed her sweetly and rested his forehead against hers. "Crystal clear."

They sat arm-in-arm, lapsing into silence again, Meg considering her next words.

"Maestro?"

"Cricket?"

"I will allow Erik to escort me home."

"Wonderful, let's -" he moved to stand but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the floor.

"On one condition."

His eyes filled with wariness. Conditions were something that he made, not agreed to.

"Don't disappear on me. I want us to be .."

"Friends?"

"More than that. You may take me home, but you must visit as you had before."

Erik opened his mouth to protest but realized he could not. It was a perfectly reasonable stipulation and he could not fault it. As terrifying as it was, he found he could not stay away from her even if he honestly wanted to. "Friends." His internal voice scoffed. "The monster has a friend?" No. The monster had more than that.

"All right. I will not disappear. I promise."

Meg smiled brightly and threw her arms around his neck. Erik folded her into another embrace, enjoying the feeling of peace washing over him, pulling him out into a tranquil sea.

"Maestro?" Meg's voice pulled him sharply back to shore.

"Hm?"

"Are you courting me?" She asked, this time without the influence of all the wine they imbibed in the Bois. Honestly, sincerely and with hopefulness in her eyes.

As frightened as Erik was by the idea of it, after spending his entire life alone, he decided not to shut her out again. He trusted her and he needed her. This time, Erik would choose differently.

This time, he simply said, "Yes."