A/N: Hi all!
I won't get into all the reasons why this chapter is so late in coming. I do not want to bore you with real life stuff so onto the chapter!
I must say a special shout out to everyone that has reviewed. Yes, even Guest reviewers who I can't personally thank. All your reviews, ideas and suggestions mean so much! More than you will ever realize! I truly appreciate the time you take in writing about your thoughts. Reviews are like food to my writing muses and I feel so honored that I actually have people that really want to read my writing.
Now, I do understand that this is written a little differently throughout. If anyone has any questions to ask please do! Also, I am sorry for not getting back to everyone life has been simply crazy over the last 4 months. If any of you have any opinions of what you'd like to see in this story please let me know!
I hope you enjoy the read God bless and thanks for clicking!
Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.
DISCLAIMER: I still do not own anything to do with Pocahontas. History and the Disney Co. own everything. I do own any OCS you may see but if you'd like to use them just ask and I'll most likely say heck yeah we need more Pocahontas fanfiction!
Chapter 3:
-…-..-
He thought waiting was his strong suit.
After all, he had always waited for the appropriate time. The correct time to strike, say the truth, love, write and deal the killing blow. John Smith had always been careful to orchestrate every detail so that it would be to his advantage in life.
This tactic did not always work.
One moment his fervent prayers were moving towards heaven, her sleeping lovely face filled his vision and the rhythm of the carriage wheels filtered through the outside door.
Then it all stopped.
-…-…-…- Red.
All he sees is red.
Red like blood and fire. Crimson splashes through the sky at sunrise. Merely to appear over the water at sundown.
All he feels is pain. His side is a constant hot metal brand and his throat is raw. His entire body heaves and shakes with pain, fever, cold, sadness and longing. Yearning for peace, warmth, her touch, her gentle voice whispering or chanting in order to keep the evil spirits from snatching him from the world. The captain not being able to remember such agony. He knows he would cease breathing if only he could.
All he smells is bitter herbs. He picks out sage; however it is mixed with so many others that he cannot understand why they are there.
All he tastes is bile. Even water is a struggle. Not to mention the thin broth, pungent tea, and thick tonics.
All he calls for is her. Her name, people, village, sweetness, kiss, memories, joy and every color of the wind.
"He longs for this Pocahontas."
He inquires of the faint voice that somehow makes its way through his delirium, "God, where is she? Eva? Ansgar… If you know… I need… I miss her, need h…"
He tries to pull away from the cold cloth on his heated forehead.
"Hush, be still Captain Smith… Be still…"
"Pocahontas? How, is that you?"
John Smith does not see Eva glance over her shoulder.
"Shhh…"
"Quite right, we will go running through Lincolnshire. Would you like that?"
John hears the hesitant reply, "Yes…"
He allows his mind to drift. The captain lets himself believe it is her. The one who taught him so much when he thought he knew it all. The one who had taken his hand and guided him through the wide open meadows and the lush forests of her homeland. Pocahontas's hand is small yet firm as for once in his life the captain feels that he belongs.
He now feels like he is floating down the clearest river he has ever seen. Yet she is slipping away from him, the current moving strong and swift.
"Come back… My friend…"
A sudden gasp as if coming up for air. He opens his eyes and then slams them shut for the brightness is too much.
"My love. We can swim at the sea near Willoughby. So cold… Water… Please, water? No no, I you please Pocahontas… Ratcliffe is going to him…"
"Hush, you are safe here. You are safe. Captain Smith, you are safe here. Safe…"
"Do, not, care," he says slowly whilst the tremors grip his body and the fever persists, "Must… You must tell her keep her… I must ask… Must return… Must leave…-"
"John, it is Eva. You cannot… You are in England. Do you understand? Look at me… Look at me… Open your eyes. Can you do that? Please, please look at me."
He senses panic in her tone. Ansgar's voice is somewhere in the room as a draft causes John Smith to shiver again. He notes another heavy blanket being added to the pile.
"I will pack…"
The captain cannot even lift his head off the pillow.
-…-…-.—
He felt the sudden hand on his shoulder.
Only then did he sit bolt upright, the startled sound not having a chance to leave his lips before Ansgar spoke, "John Rolfe is outside."
The words came out through gritted teeth, "Bloody hell…"
"I am sorry for startling you my friend."
A tired sigh was the captain's reply as he shoved a hand through his hair, "Anyone else?"
Another breath was all he needed for his voice to sound normal again. The captain could contribute the slight trembling of his body to the chill in the air. The fact he had not realized he'd fallen asleep was of no consequence.
"Well yes, that girl is with him and the gentleman was not pleased that he was not notified…-"
-…-…-…-
Voices.
All she heard were voices.
Raised ones at that. They filtered through her dreams like sand through her fingertips.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Pocahontas was not sure at that moment; however she made a decision to sort it out later.
For now, she was content to linger somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. In that instant, the native princess wanted nothing more than to stand in between awareness and slumber. She knew that she should face reality however in her current state the woman could not.
Pocahontas felt warm. Secure in blankets and free from the corseted breathing she had to endure on a daily basis. Her hand did not throb and she noted a strange calmness.
"I did what I thought was best. You were goodness knows where and Pocahontas did not know where you were."
"Come off it Smith, why the hell did you not take her to my home? I would have the most excellent care for her!"
Her body and mind froze simultaneously.
She was no longer walking through the forest of her homeland, holding the hand of a blue eyed stranger. Her lips no more felt his in grandmother willow's glade. Her ears heard neither sweet words nor her name from his deep voice. Though her mind knew better, her heart had locked her mind away. It was as if all rational thought had been taken captive.
"J-John…-"
It was all she could manage while a woman nearby cleared her throat.
"If I may, Captain John Smith is a good man. I am certain he had the best in mind even if his judgment was a bit… A little… Even if his judgment was a trifle reckless."
A breath was heard, "Reckless? You deem my judgment reckless? I will have you know Miss Winters…-"
Patricia hastened to continue, "Not that reckless is a horrible thing! I merely intended to illustrate the differences in…-"
"No, no no ah…"
"It is alright Pocahontas," Rolfe soothed whilst brushing the hair off her face. It did no good as she groaned again, gritting her teeth against consciousness.
Nevertheless, Pocahontas could recognize that high pitch voice anywhere. Along with recognition came a wave of nausea and bone chilling cold. The native tentatively opened her eyes, only to shut them as John Rolfe's face swam in front of her. Every sensation came back in immediate harsh succession. From the throbbing in her head, trembling of her whole being, searing pain in her wounded hand, the red raw feeling of her skin to the swimming in her stomach. She was very aware nothing about her was alright.
"Look at her! She is in no condition…-"
"Try, try to sit up darling. Can you do that? Pocahontas, it is alright. We shall travel nice and easy back home."
"Wha-what? Home?"
The native could not tell if the room was truly spinning or if she was moving in order to sit up. Her tongue felt weighed down, making speech a considerable effort. She sensed the spinning ease as she placed her hands on the mattress. The woman blinked, taking in Smith's figure at the head of the cot.
"Open your eyes. Can you do that? Open your eyes and focus on me."
John Rolfe's gently coaxing voice enabled her to get a hand on top of the blanket. She nearly gasped as he took her uninjured hand in his rough cold one.
"Excellent well done! We are going to sit you up now."
"I would not recommend that," Smith said as Rolfe bent over her.
"You can… Can you give me your other hand?"
"Mr. Rolfe, I would not move her."
The room went back to normal as Pocahontas felt herself being laid back against the pillows.
"What the hell were you thinking to give her opium! Do you not know she will crave for it now?"
"Not one cup…-"
"It will be mild however I simply cannot let this lady stay here!"
"You would have done the same thing!"
"I would not have given her such an amount of opium! Look at her!"
"If it makes you feel better, I had a dreadful scrape once and I had two cups and I was perfectly fine."
"You should listen to Miss Winters," John Smith said as he ran a hand through his hair.
No one could tell what the catalyst was in the moment. It may have been the raised voices, sounds of dishes in the background or the light in the room. It could have been the smell of bread or the pain in her hand. A cool draft in the room or Eva's greeting announcing that the labor had gone well. Perhaps it was her exclamation of surprise, erratic hand movements, and Rolfe's voice inquiring after her credentials accompanied by Eva's indignant tone. Time seemed to speed up and yet slow down completely at once. All she was certain of was the ever growing nausea in her stomach and the increasing excruciating pulsing in her head. It was as if she were a forgotten kettle of water, put on the hearth to boil and was now going to spill over.
As if being pushed upwards by a strong current of water, Pocahontas sat up, took a shuddering breath and promptly vomited.
Captain Smith was the first to react, grabbing her long ebony tresses away from her face. The blankets around her shoulders slipped, revealing her in nothing but a thin shift.
"Oh, God! Oh my!"
She felt her body heave as the contents of her stomach emptied onto the blankets around her. When she was finally done her body fell backwards, Pocahontas's breathing coming in fast whilst she twitched in Smith's arms.
John Rolfe stood in a daze, her sickness running down his shirt whilst he tried to cover his eyes. On the other side of the room, Patricia made a retching sound before dashing outside.
After a moment of stunned silence Eva spoke, "That is enough. John Rolfe, take your lady and go home."
"I, I would, I that am to say ma'm I tried but Smith said… He said not to move her and I did… I am so sorry Pocahontas… You poor thing…-"
"Enough," Eva repeated, "You go with the lady outside."
"But miss…"
"Go on," Eva began as she handed Rolfe a towel, "Go on. This woman will be fine here. I will tend to her."
Pocahontas watched through half lidded eyes as Rolfe shuffled towards the door.
"It is alright," Ansgar quietly told the gentleman, "Eva is a midwife. She will look after the princess."
Rolfe's mumbled, "Thank you."
"I was not really sick I just cannot handle the smell," was the last thing she heard Patricia say before the door closed and her body arched before she sat up and was sick again.
-..-…End of Chapter 3…-…-…-..-
