As I walked towards my room my head was spinning with the dramatic events of the night and physical exertion required smothering the flames.

I also found after I had been in the room alone and the adrenaline had subsided; that I had indeed sustained injury in the fire, I felt a throbbing pain in my right arm, I assumed in tearing down the bed curtains I had succeeded in getting singed, it escaped notice because my hair obscured the marks on my gown, and I was careful to keep it hidden by the covering I had over my shoulders at the time.

It was not a serious enough injury to merit attention other than I could provide on my own, I judged it better to not call attention to it as Mr. Rochester seemed disinclined to have the facts, whatever they were, known to the servants, and I did not think it would be an easy coincidence to believe that I sustained a unrelated injury the night he had almost been burned in his bed.

Yes, I should do very well attending my arm by myself, self-reliance had been part of my personality from birth, and had been formed into an adamantine creed by my upbringing.

To a quick impersonal scrutiny what had happened was not more than an interesting development in the night, nothing more.

To me, it was portentous; as if there were now doors looming on the far horizon faintly visible through the mist and gloom.

Doors to what or where I did not yet have the resources to comprehend, but I could feel that they were momentous, and that there was an air of mystery and trepidation surrounding them.

I slowed my steps; to pursue such a course of thought was absurd, it was brought on no doubt by the eventful night and subsequent solitude I had endured.

As for my master's peculiar behavior, I must not read anything into it; the man had almost been burned in his own bed by a malevolent being, which in its self was enough to explain away his actions.

Therein was another mystery which had engrossed me during the long wait by the fire, who would have aught against my master to wish him such ill? And who could have had access to him while he lay in his own bed?

The last thought brought a shiver to my spine; it was a fearful thing indeed to feel that one was not safe in their domicile.

I approached my door, and perhaps for the first time in my life, at least since a child in the nursery, I was aware of fear on entering my solitary room.

I held the candle up high and inspected with care any shadows that presented themselves as unusual, at last, assured all was well in my room, I slowly shut my door and carefully locked it.

But the sense of a dark shadow hovering close; a Damocles' sword of dread still remained. Shaking my head to rid myself of these vague, unsettling feelings I methodically undressed and laid myself down in the bed, but not to sleep, my brain was too feverish, so I lay in bed till the light rose, attempting to ignore the throbbing in my arm.

As soon as I heard the stirring of the housemaids, I got dressed in the rosy glow of dawns first light and descended the main staircase to avoid the servants, and went to the kitchen hoping to unobserved slip in and procure some tea. I felt heaviness in my head, no doubt due to the restless night that I had passed.

I did manage to pour the desired amount of hot water into my cup and place some tea leaves in the cup; unfortunately I did not have access to a strainer with out inquiring where it was located, so I decided to drink it before it had time to become bitter. I hurried back up to my room as best I could while favoring my arm. Once reaching my destination I pulled a blanket close around me to ward off the chill I could feel creeping into my bones.

All unbidden my mind turned back to the night and Mr. Rochester had looked, what he said the inflection in his tone, never had I parsed anything as closely as I did our recent encounter.

I felt my pulses quicken, my breath came short and there was a peculiar tightness to my chest. All of these I was unable to place, they did not seem to be related to my injury, but they were disquieting to a certain extent.

Whenever I closed my eyes I saw the look in his eyes as he looked down on me, offering his thanks for saving his life. How the deep shadows did indeed seem to soften his face and make his eyes as soft and gentle as I had never before seen in anyone.

Could therein lie the answer, was I overwhelmed by a mere glimpse of gratitude and kindness? I who had experienced so few in my life?

Or could it be another more alarming reason that filled me with the awareness of him when he was not present?

The more I sat and thought, the more my reasoning and cold practicality was impaired. Realizing that I could not allow this to continue I firmly formed the resolution to put these kinds of thoughts out of my head.

I proceeded to wash and bandage my arm my arm, welcoming the pain as a distraction and as a dose of reality, this pain was real, it was in the material world and could be dealt with as such.

Fervently I wished to be able as easily to excise the wild tumult of emotion I was suffering from.

I heard the clock in the hall striking and realized with shock I had been lost in my musing far longer than I thought; it seemed that even time its self was warped by the new, unwelcome emotions crowding me.

I put any thoughts other than pertained to my daily routine out of my head and took a sip of the untouched tea before I headed down to meet Adele and Mrs. Fairfax for breakfast..

It had grown cold and was exceedingly bitter.

For all of the hopeless Jane Eyre devotees out there!

I should have a more regular updating schedule on this new fic.