A/N: I already have the next two chapters wrtten, but I will be holding them until I get enough reviews to satisfy my ego. So, if you want a quick update, write a quick review : )

I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. I couldn't even stand up on my own, let alone fight or escape if my rescuer turned out to be simply another chapter in the horror novel that my life had become. As the man rushed over to assist me, I wanted badly to apologize for the inconvenience I had caused him, but I could not bring myself to break the silence. He reached his hand out to me, and I took it, looking at his face for the first time as he helped me to stand.

Even in my dazed condition, I could tell he was handsome. His light eyes contrased nicely with the gold of his skin and his dark hair. He was dressed to perfection in a black evening suit, the absolute picture of a gentleman. The only deviation from that image was the white mask that covered half of his face. He pulled me gently to my feet, and kept a steadying hand on his arm as I struggled to remain standing. I dropped my eyes to my feet, realizing that a man living in a cave might take issue with my rude stare. The last thing I wanted to do was offend him.

"May I help you to a chair?"

His voice was much gentler than I remembered, and I was struck by his cultured tone, and the oddity of such well-mannered words in such an uncomfortable situation. In fact, I was so startled that I began to laugh. That was when I knew he must have given me some very strong medication, which was affecting my brain. It is never a good idea to laugh at a stranger, especially one who stands between you and falling into a lake. Especially one who wears a mask and lives in a cave. After hacking out a laugh, I composed myself, and looked at his face again, hoping that he had mistaken the noise for a cough, or some other completely involuntary noise. It appeared he had understood me quite well, judging by the hurt and slightly baffled expression the uncovered side of his face wore.

"Please...I didn't mean...I wasn't..it's just.."

Apparently, I was not yet capable of coherent thought yet. With any luck at all, he would understand that I had meant no offense, and wouldn't kill me.

"Of course. You are still very weak, and I imagine quite hungry. Please, sit."

With that, he slowly led me to a chair, and helped me to sit down. He didn't seem to require an further explanation, for which I was grateful.

When he placed a small loaf of bread and some cheese in front of me, all thoughts of fear, gratitude and manners flew out of my mind. He was right, I was starving. I couldn't even recall the last time that I had eaten a full meal, and tore into this one with a ferocity that I never knew I possessed. The man didn't seem to notice my complete lack of manners and dignity, and he proceeded to ignore me, or at least pretend to, turning his back to me.

When I was done, I folded my hands in my lap, and looked up at him. Whatever he had given me was wearing off, and the silence was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I desperately wanted him to say something, if only to shake off the feeling that I was completely alone.

"Thank you" I whispered, watching him for any sign of emotion.

"You're welcome."

He didn't seem to want to look at me, and kept his eyes averted.

"Not just for the food, you know.'

Still, he didn't turn around. I placed my palms on the table, using it to push myself to a standing position. I realized as fresh pain shot through my legs that this particular movement was simply the latest in a long line of stupid mistakes. I grimaced, but avoided crying out this time; a small victory over my pain. He had turned around as I stood, and hesitantly took a step towards me. I straightened, trying to look him in the eye while avoiding staring at his mask.

"I owe you my life."

"It was nothing."

"I disagree."

He closed his eyes briefly, as if pained by something, then opened them and locked them on mine.

"You still have wounds that I was..unable to care for while you were sleeping. Perhaps I ought to take care of them now."

He seemed embarassed by the thought, and I realized that he probably did not want to do anymore washing and bandaging.

"You needn't worry about me; I can manage by myself. I just need water and some bandages."

I could see the hesitancy in his eyes, and gave him a small smile to reasure him.

"Really, you have done so much for me already, I cannot ask any more of you. I will be fine."

"As you wish."

Again, he offered me his arm, and gently helped me back up the stairs to the room I had woken up in. He helped me sit down, then left without a word. Aqain I took the opportunity to examine the contents of the chamber, noting the shattered mirror on one side of me, and a tall bookshelf on the other. Before I knew it, he had returned, carrying a pitcher of water which he placed on the washstand. He also handed me a bundle of fabric, which I took gratefully.

"I believe you will find everything you require there. I am going to see if I can find you some more suitable clothing. I will return shortly."

With that, he turned to walk away, pushing the curtain out of his way.

"Wait!"

He turned around abruptly with a questioning gaze. I had to know who he was, why he had helped me, but I couldn't think of what to say.

"I'm Remy...that's my name. Remy Neuvillette."

Again, I watched his expression change to something like regret, and he replied with a single word.

"Erik."

And then he was gone.

A/N: For all the astute literary types, yes I did steal her last name from Christian de Neuvillette of the fantastic play Cyrano de Bergerac.