A Jane POV, I suppose it could only be expected, considering the entire umpteenth many words in Jane Eyre matched the trend. Enjoy. Oh and sorry this took so long, but my laptop's broken, and it took a lot for me to swallow my pride and come down to the family computer. Lucky I hadn't started this chapter, or it would have taken a lot longer. Sorry all those people who don't like harry potter, but you probably won't realise. I didn't choose to put it there, but you wont realise, will you?

Disclaimer: Ooh, me? Charlotte Brontë? I'm flattered and all that, but unfortunately, I'm not charlotte Brontë :'(. Or JKRowling!

Her head was spinning, she had a pounding headache, and the world was black. She remembered very little of the day recently passed, and none of the hours, which were less than a blur. Just blackness. Less than that, in fact, they were nothingness. She tried opening here eyes, but her lids were heavy, reluctant to move from this comfortable bed. Scanning her mind for what had caused this oblivion, she remembered a little of a walk taken with Miss Georgiana Reede. And then running, she could remember running.

After the running, it was just that odd, ringing nothingness that gave her a headache. When she tried really hard, she could remember- no, that's just the unconsciousness speaking. He wasn't really- he would never…she put the thought out of her mind. It would not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, after all.

Struggling with her earthly body, she carefully eased her eyes open, and saw a man who she vaguely recognised.

"Hello, little friend." He said to her, and she remembered.

"Hello, Mr Lloyd." I said. The man was, of course, very different from the last time I had seen him. Ten years had passed, and the apothecary was back by my bedside. But I recognised him. And he recognised me. Hardly surprising, I had barely even grown since he last saw me.

"Long time since you were last here, I must say," he stated, rather warmly, "but you came back, and you still can't walk!" he laughed.

"What happened?" I asked, slowly, bringing my head up to my pounding headache, which was all that was left of my head.

"So you remember me, and not the horse you walked into an hour since?" he questioned, laughing again. "Well, I can tell you, you ran into a horse, it was twice the size of you, and it didn't like it, so it bucked."

"Taking the gate with it I might add!" Georgiana said, rather coldly, from the doorway. "I'll fine that man for it," she added, "that trespasser." Then she remembered, sat up straight, and attempted to climb out of bed, before an arm held her down. She expected to see Lloyd's arm, but he was sitting on her left, and this was coming from the right side of the bed. She looked at the rounded hand, and carefully, slowly, cautiously, followed up the arm, to the face she knew so well.

The face of her master. She went white, and then red, then bowed her head, in an ashamed manner, and said, in the most shameful voice "I am sorry master." So quiet that he could barely hear, and hoped that anybody else could, other than him, at all. She then looked back up, to Georgiana, who was scowling at Mr Rochester, to Mr Rochester, who was scowling back.

"I assume you came to tell me that I no longer have a job?" she muttered, slipping further under the sheets as all hope was lost.

"No," he answered, "I came to ponder why you have not yet returned to your post." And then he added, "I wonder at you, I would think you valued your education of Adèle, and your converse with me, more highly." But this was said in so quieter a voice that no-one but she heard. Then he turned to Mr. Lloyd and demanded "She will sleep tonight, and then take a carriage back tomorrow to my place of residence, Thornfeild, where she works and lives." She saw Mr. Lloyd open his mouth to make an objection, but Mr. Rochester insisted, and he sensed the nonsense in disagreeing with a man so sure of every word he spoke.

Sorry it's quite short, but at least you know that Jane's okay, for now. Please review, I do truly long to know if this is interesting you. And then you can chastise me for writing such very short, dull chapters.