A/N: My first attempt to write a Jane Eyre FF! I'm quite proud of this little piece. This is Jane's flight from Thornfield from Edward's POV. Just an idea that popped into my head!

Of course, I own nothing. All belongs to Charlotte Brontë.

Enjoy and Review!

You know, I was up. The day you left.

Pacing. Up and down the room.

My cravat was undone, and my coat lied on the floor. My breathing was unsteady, and my blood boiled.

By that time we should have been on our way to London. Instead I was driving myself to insanity. Why should I surrender? Why couldn't I have the life I wanted, to love and be loved like I learned it could be done?

I know what you'll say. Bigamy was a crime. But it was one that I intended to bear in my conscience, all to myself. What dimension would that regret have compared to being the instrument of my family's greedy goals? What torment could be worse that being married to a woman I didn't love, who couldn't possibly love me and showed me an aggressive disgust?

I was livid. Not with you, my dove, but with myself. I never wanted you to bear with my sins. The pureness of my Jane should not be stained, least of all, by my own hand!

But it was about to be, were it not for my very brother-in-law.

A selfish deed to perform, a marriage, was it not? Yes, because in spite of my reluctance to make you participate in my wicked plans, you didn't have a choice. You never knew the nature of the promise you were making. The kind of man that declared he loved you, more than you'll ever know. The man you promised yourself to marry.

Yes. My proposal was dishonest, and therefore I knew you had no obligations towards me. But, Jane, what about love? What about our union, beyond mortal comprehension? It was so complicated, so intricate... and yet so simple. I loved you and you loved me in return! No laws, no boundaries, no obligations and duties, except for those dictated by our hearts.

And it was in my very heart that I longed to feel the same pain you were feeling there in your room; the very agony that I had seen painted in your face while your eyes scanned mine in the church, waiting for a comforting word I could not give.

My arms ached to seize you and never let you leave my side. And I didn't care if I wasn't worthy of your touch, your loving look, your broad smiles and blushes... I just couldn't see myself without them!

Oh, what a weak, selfish man, Jane, indeed!

Pardon my gloominess but truly, my love, even in the peak of my physical strength and abilities; I was indeed worthy of pity.

You were right about me, Janet, you've always been a fairy.

Suddenly, my blood froze.

Your petite little steps could be heard outside my door, even though you weren't wearing any shoes. And then they stopped.

I turned immediately; my eyes were fixed on the doorknob. I became exasperated knowing that the only thing between you and me was that old piece of wood.

"Open it!" cried my heart. "Come running to my arms!"

Oh, I longed for the door to burst. To feel your tears running on my face, while I gathered you with the eternal promise that everything would be all right.

But the door didn't open and I couldn't kiss your tears away.

And without my Jane, I knew that nothing would be ever all right. It wasn't selfishness anymore, but a cold certainty that made my throat close.

I heard you leaving, now going downstairs. You went to the kitchen. I was following you, ever silent, wanting to have a look at my little elf, one last look to take it to the grave when my hour came, as I was sure it would quite soon.

My chest hurt when I saw one last tear on the corner of your eye. You wiped it away immediately. "My strong dearest Jane."

I was supporting myself on a wall, hiding, when you opened the back door and left the house.

My love, I wasn't as strong as you. I fell to the floor about to cry in desperation. I groaned; suddenly weary of myself and my unfortunate existence.

If you had remained one more second inside the house, you would've listened to me. You would have turned to see a broken man, longing for his bird to return, despite everything.

But my lament did not reach your beautiful ears, you didn't turn. And I didn't run to you.

Do I regret it?

What difference would've made?

You left Thornfield that day, as you had determined quietly that you would the day before.

Wounded, I carried myself up to your room. There, as I found the perfectly folded pearl necklace on your bed, my legs failed and hot tears came brutally down my eyes, as if they were ripped savagely from them.

Oh, I will not lie to you. Thousands of times I thought of going after you, to ride even to the Ends of the World to bring my Jane back where she belonged, by my side! But I couldn't.

Lying on your bed - still warm from the heat of your body - I realized I couldn't possibly feel your pain, despite how much I wanted to. But I could do one thing for you.

I had to let you go.