Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...


Erik sat in an armchair near the fire, thinking about the evening. After Adèle had returned with some nightclothes, he had left the room, allowing her to change the woman's clothes in privacy. When he had returned, having changed out of traveling clothes, Adèle was finishing placing some clothes in a small armoire. He could see the woman's torn clothing in a heap on the floor, ready to be taken away. A fire was blazing, sending warmth and light into the room. The young woman was lying in the bed, so very still and pale.

This young woman puzzled him. From her clothes and the look of her, she was apparently a young lady of high society. And yet, if that were so, why was she in the woods, alone, at night? He thought too how she had fought her attacker. No well-bred lady would think of such a thing...All in all, she was a puzzling girl. And puzzles interested him.

After Adèle had finished with the clothes, she approached him, "Monsieur, shall I call for a doctor? The young lady seems to have been hurt quite badly."

Erik stopped and looked at her. Until that moment, the thought of the girl's injuries had been in the back of his mind. Now Adèle's words made him consider. Did he want yet another stranger in his new home? He decided: "No, madame, I will tend her myself. Please, bring some warm water and cloths." She looked surprised, but hurried off. Erik went into his room, relieved that someone had followed his instructions and brought his cases in. After looking briefly in one, he emerged from his room with a small glass vial in one hand. He met Adèle in the hallway, she having brought the water and cloths. He motioned her inside the room. Having set the basin down on a table next the bedside, she stood expectantly, sure that he would require her help. She was then surprised to hear him say curtly, "You may go. Be sure there is water kept warm in the kitchens. I will fetch it myself later if it is needed."

"But monsieur, surely you do not mean to care for this girl alone?" she asked, shocked.

Erik merely turned and glared at the woman. She looked at him, still obviously displeased, but did as she was told and left. When he heard the door close behind him, Erik turned his attention to the young woman in the bed. He considered her still form, deciding which injuries needed the most attention. Slowly, he lifted her head and felt the back of it. He sighed. As he had feared, there was a large lump nearly at the base of her skull. That would account for her unconsciousness, he thought. Unfortunately, there was little he could do for that.

Looking at her face and arms, he winced a little at the many scratches, bruises, and other marks on her pale skin. Given where he had found her, it was not surprising that there was also fair amount of dirt on those scratches, which needed to be cleaned up. At least that he could help with. Taking the vial of clear liquid, he put a few drops into the basin of water, followed by one of the cloths. Once it was wet, he wrung it out and began to gently wipe her cuts clean. He was confident that the slight antiseptic he had added to the water would prevent any infection.

After having finished cleaning her arms, he turned his attention to her face. Her lips were swollen and bruised; the lower appeared to have been cut. Her one eye was slowly turning black, and there were scratches and bruises here as well. Rewetting the cloth, he slowly began to wipe away the dirt and dried blood from her face. As he did so, he was surprised at the delicacy of her features.

He studied her face almost as an artist would. Her face was rather oval shaped, but the chin was a little too sharp to be considered perfect. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, and almost translucent. Her nose was small, with a slight uptilt at the tip. With her eyes still closed, it was impossible to tell what color they were, but they were well shaped with long thick lashes. Almost like Christine's...he shook his head violently. That was one woman he must never think of again. And no woman could ever be like her.

Having finished with her arms and face, he again considered her still form. Adèle's reaction to his insistence on caring for the woman had some merit. Should she awake, she would undoubtedly be distressed at what he knew he had to do next. Yet it could not be helped. And it was better to try and get it over with while she was still asleep.

He pulled back the blankets and stepped back hastily. He was concerned that her legs may have been injured in her...ordeal. He recalled that she had been unable to stand or run away from him. Thankfully the nightclothes Adèle had found had consisted of a long nightdress. Somewhat gingerly he raised the hem a few inches, just enough to see her ankles. As he had feared, one was greatly swollen and turning many shades that it should not have been. Slipping quickly from the room, he again went to his cases. This time he returned with a larger bottle marked Witch Hazel. Taking a fresh cloth, he soaked it with the solution. Lifting her leg a bit, he deftly wrapped the damp cloth around her swollen foot. Securing it with a dry cloth, he gently placed her foot back in bed and drew the covers up over her. He reached down and hesitantly touched her neck, searching for her pulse. It was there, though beating so slowly that he was concerned. Pulling a chair closer to the fire, he sat down, prepared to watch over her until she awoke.