A/N: Hi all!

So, here is chapter 2. The third and final chapter will be out by the end of the year. I realized as I was writing that the chapter was already quite long and we still have a ways to go.

Any thoughts, suggestions, ideas or anything can be left in a review.

Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.

I hope you'll enjoy please leave a comment on your way out I appreciate them so much! I thank you for your time.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with Disney's Pocahontas. I know the real history. I just borrow the characters for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 2:

-…-…-

Before he even opened his eyes, all he was aware of was his aching head.

Nay, pulsating, throbbing pain that radiated through his head as if it were being repeatedly slammed against a wall.

The next of his senses to be awakened was his hearing.

More accurately, the lack thereof.

Wherever he was, it was very quiet. It was virtually silent so right off he knew he was not in his own flat located in the busy section of London.

Moreover, the scent of lavender seemed to sooth him as he slowly regained his wits.

He was warm and comfortable, covered in blankets and in a bed much softer than his own.

However, it soon became apparent that he was not alone. Under the same blankets, he could feel the shape of a woman's back pressed against his chest, whilst his unclothed back was pushed against the wall.

He was now unequivocally aware that he was in some woman's bed, though he could not say how it came to be.

He sighed as she moved onto her back, stretched, yawned and finally lay still. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, a mass of dark hair became visible on the white pillow. At precisely that moment, a weak beam of sunlight shown through the partially drawn curtains. When she turned her head in his direction, Captain John Smith bolted upright and then wished he had not as the room spun and he clutched his head.

Undeterred, Pocahontas blinked open her dark eyes and stared up at the man who had so foolishly pounded on her balcony door. How he had managed to reach it in his state the lady would never know.

In a quiet voice she spoke, "Are you alright?"

"No," he bit out whilst slumping forward as he breathed, "What, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"How, why, how what am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

He hated the twinge of panic that laced his words as he fought to regain control of his senses.

"Keep your voice down. You do not remember?"

"I would not have inquired if I did."

"Do not take that tone with me," Pocahontas snapped, "It is not my doing that you are in this situation. However, given your state I could not just throw you out."

Having finally succeeded in sitting upright John Smith said, "Forgive me. I have not awakened feeling this way in a long time."

A humorous laugh escaped Pocahontas's lips as she pushed back the blankets and started to get out of the large bed, "I believe that as much as I believe Ratcliffe suddenly thinks there is no gold in Jamestown."

"Are you then calling me a liar?"

"No," Pocahontas answered as she walked behind the dressing screen towards the bureau on the other side of the room, "Just a fool."

Upon pushing back the bedclothes, the captain was relieved to see that his trousers were in place. By the time Pocahontas returned carrying a small wooden box, John Smith had only managed to sit on the edge of the bed with his bare feet hanging over the side. Glancing down he noted his unclothed torso, before looking up only to notice that she was watching him.

"Where is my shirt?"

His reply came in the way of an arched eyebrow as Pocahontas set the box in between them on the bed. As she made to stand a sudden knock had John flinching and Pocahontas sighing.

"Be quiet," she said.

"But."

"Be quiet," Pocahontas reiterated by placing her fingertips against his lips before walking towards the door.

Leaving a stunned captain to look on as she slowly opened the door, angling her body so that Mrs. Jenkins could not look fully into the room.

"I have tea and bread for you dear," Mrs. Jenkins's voice made John Smith's headache more intense as he leaned forward.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Jenkins," Pocahontas said in a small voice, "However, I am feeling ill this morning. I suppose I was making rather merry last evening and I ate or drank something."

"No worries dear," Mrs. Jenkins interrupted as she felt Pocahontas's forehead and cheek, "I see you have no sign of a fever. Are you certain you do not need anything?"

"I think the tea, bread and jam will be quite nice," Pocahontas replied, "I just feel tired. I think all I need is a day of rest with no fuss and I will be just fine."

"Well," Mrs. Jenkins hesitated whilst Pocahontas took the breakfast tray, "Are you certain? Do you want me to fetch Uti?"

Pocahontas shook her head as she balanced the tray, "I will be fine. There is no need to alert my guard. I wish to be left in peace today."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, thank you so much Mrs. Jenkins. I truly appreciate all you have done."

After Pocahontas shut and securely locked the door, she waited until the maid's footfalls faded down the stairs before turning back towards John Smith.

"I'm setting this on the table," Pocahontas said as she tightened her robe after placing down the tray. John Smith watched as she neared the bureau and picked up a blanket. Her movements graceful, he could not help but gaze on as she snatched the wooden box off the bed and headed towards the table in the corner. Pulling out a plush chair, Pocahontas sat and started to pour the tea. He continued staring as she wrapped the thick blanket around her shoulders before adding honey to the liquid in her cup.

"Where is my shirt?"

The captain repeated as Pocahontas placed down the pot of honey and pointed over towards the other chair. John Smith gingerly made his way over towards the other seat. Immediately spotting his shirt he reached to pick it up off the back of the chair.

Merely to become aware of the facts that not only was the sleeve torn but all the buttons that had decorated the front of the garment were missing.

The native princess looked up as Smith heavily sat down, blinking rapidly and staring at the shirt in astonishment before he queried, "What the hell happened? What the bloody hell went on here last night?"

Pocahontas laughed as she pushed the bread and cup of tea in his direction, "You truly have no recollection of anything that occurred last evening? Do you remember calling me a cold-hearted bitch?"

John Smith winced, for even though he could not recall what exactly was said he did remember the argument and how he had stormed out of the ball. He had not even given his regards to Lady Emily or any of the guests but had simply left. As he thought back, he remembered running into Ben and Lon at their usual pub.

"I do recall."

"Have some tea and bread," Pocahontas said as Smith looked down at the fine tea tray before meeting her gaze across the table.

"Listen, I, I appreciate this nursemaid act of yours. I really do. However, I should just take my shirt and cloak. "

Pocahontas cut him off, "Your cloak is soaked. I have it hanging on those pegs. That reminds me, I need to tend the fire."

"I will."

"Sit," Pocahontas sharply commanded as John arched an eyebrow before sitting back in the comfortable chair.

"You can hardly walk. I will not let you see to the fire."

He wanted to say otherwise, however reconsidered as he thought back to how carefully he had walked towards the sitting area.

It did not take long before the fire blazed and the room filled with light. John Smith knew it was only a matter of time before the chamber would warm up. As he sipped the tea, images of the prior evening started to become clearer.

Instead of shame, the captain was more annoyed at his behavior and how he had spoken to Ben and Lon. He smiled as he brought to mind Lon defending all his slander against women. It seemed to him that he had gone off about harlots and he vaguely wondered if he had referred to Pocahontas as such. He was reminded how Lon had hit him if only to make him see reason. He remembered the cool night air as Ben had ushered them outside of the tavern before any of the staff could get involved. Some time elapsed, and he found himself in a carriage as he mumbled something that must have been John Rolfe's address. As he bit into the warm bread, he suddenly recalled either being band from the carriage at some point or tumbling out in a daze. The rain had begun falling in earnest then, soaking through to his skin and yet he continued onwards. He must have been dropped closer to Rolfe's house than he originally surmised, because in no time at all he was leaning against the brick wall staring at a lone flame through the window of a second floor balcony.

He blinked as Pocahontas took the tea cup from his hand and set it on the table.

At his inquisitive expression she explained, "You looked like you were deep in thought so much that I worried you would drop it."

He nodded, as an abrupt vision of tears flashed in his mind along with the feel of her body in his arms, heat enveloping him and ebony hair touching his flesh.

At that moment he quickly sat up and grabbed Pocahontas's hand.

Whilst he loathed his alarmed tone, "What the bloody hell came to pass? Tell me, tell me what happened?"

He suddenly let go before getting to his feet, "Never mind. I will take the remains of my shirt and I'll just throw the cloak on tis still early and not many people are out and."

"Sit," Pocahontas interrupted as she narrowed her eyes.

"Pocahontas."

"I will burn that cloak if you as much as move towards that door. Besides, you will have a more difficult time leaping down in your current state."

"You would not."

"Many years ago, you climbed a tree in order to continue our quarrel."

She paused before saying, "Actually, you tried to prove to me that you were more civilized than me and my people. Well, I am not letting you leave until you answer a question."

He gradually sat, "I do not remember anything. All I recollect is completely losing my composure and you telling me to hush."

"You told me last night that you had become drunk on too much ale. You kept repeating that when men are drunk it is easier for them to speak the truth. In fact, you did not believe there was a need for the tower of London and that his majesty should just get his enemies drunk in order to learn what they are hiding."

At this revelation John Smith laughed, "Yes, I still think that is true about King James."

Pocahontas ignored his comment, "Did you mean what you said to me?"

"That depends," John replied before hesitantly inquiring, "What did I say?"

A somber look crossed her face as she quietly gazed into her own tea. He watched as she shivered whilst she gripped the cup in her hands. After a few moments of silence John Smith heard her sigh.

"I do not know what time it was when you fell against my balcony door," Pocahontas began as Smith leaned back and listened.

-…-…-

Since her arrival to England, Pocahontas had never witnessed such an intense storm. With the claps of thunder, strong winds and driving rain it reminded her of the squalls from her homeland.

It had been some time after Mrs. Jenkins had helped her to bed and Pocahontas still found that she could not sleep. Normally, a rainy night would sooth her nerves however this night it did not. As she moved onto her side to face the wall, the native could not help but wonder about the evening's events.

She had waited until she could no longer hear his angry steps down the hall before straightening her gown and opening the door. It did not take her long to find Lady Emily, who just so happened to be dancing with John Rolfe. As Pocahontas approached the couple, Emily's flirtatious look disappeared. As John Rolfe turned to face her, he did not notice the annoyed expression the younger girl sent in her direction.

The gentleman was the first to speak, "Is it not a lovely evening?"

"Yes," Lady Emily answered, "I am having such a nice time. Pocahontas, are you feeling better?"

"Yes," she replied, "I was just going to get some refreshments."

"What would you care to have?"

Pocahontas thought a moment before replying. When she did, Emily immediately wished for the same.

That was how the evening had gone, Emily constantly following the couple. When John Rolfe had finished dancing with Pocahontas, Lady Emily's hurried steps would be at Rolfe's side.

Since the weather had grown dismal, the walk that John Rolfe had planned had to be postponed.

"Perhaps I will be able to show you the King's gardens another time," he had stated as his disappointed gaze went out one of the palace's decorative windows.

And as the carriage drove them back to Rolfe's estate, Pocahontas vaguely wondered why she did not care about the obvious attention Emily had received like she should have.

Even though she had tried when the fact that Emily's coquettish behavior had become so obvious.

Yet as she climbed the staircase in Rolfe's mansion and as Mrs. Jenkins had helped her undress, the native woman felt to weary to put much effort in the task.

Pocahontas drew the nightdress closer to her body as she shivered whilst she pulled up the blankets, her mind replaying the argument between herself and John smith. The native princess groaned in exasperation as she flipped to her other side. She stared at the wooden door to her chamber, absentmindedly twisting a lock of ebony hair around a finger. When she noted she was biting her lip, something the native only did when anxious she willed herself to stop. Sighing, Pocahontas jumped as she had accidently pulled on the strands of hair she'd been listlessly twirling.

A feeling of guilt settled within her as she freed the pieces of hair from her grasp. Sitting up, Pocahontas stared at the raging storm outside.

She had never been one to flaunt her status amongst anyone in her village or to those who were not from her father's federation. Yet she had done just that to the man she had loved. More importantly, he had saved her father's life. Pocahontas lowered her head, knowing full well that events would have gone dreadfully different if her father would have been killed. Not just for the Jamestown settlers, but for all of her people as well. John Smith had saved more than he realized, and Pocahontas had belittled his rank as if he was now beneath her own.

She had disparaged not only his family's status, a class that had been placed onto him by society, but she had also made it seem that she was somehow better than him.

Slumping forward she calling herself every name in her language, she vowed that come the next day she would find John Smith and apologize for her haughty behavior. It was not in her character to speak in such a way and especially to someone who had done so much for her people.

'Farmer's son. Why did you say that as if it were horrible?'

A voice said in her mind as she dropped backwards onto the soft pillows. A gust of wind and rain blew against the windows as she closed her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.

Merely to bolt upright as something banged against the glass of the door that lead out to her balcony. After catching her breath, Pocahontas waited until her heartbeat slowed before laying back down.

Only for the bang to come again. As it happened for a third time, Pocahontas noted that it was becoming more insistent. Whatever it was, it was not being caused by the harsh winds outside. Gathering her wits, Pocahontas got out of bed and aided by the firelight found the door to the balcony.

It took a moment for her to figure out how to open it, yet when she did she became instantly wet by the inhospitable weather.

Not to mention a form wrapped in a soaked cloak nearly falling on her as the door fully opened.

A scream caught somewhere in her throat as she struggled to regain her balance, the person doing nothing to help. Before she completely lost her footing however, the man had noticed the wall and had thankfully leaned against it as Pocahontas shut the door.

"Wingapo," he began as he grinned, "I would do the gesture with the hand but I fear that would not be a wise choice."

-End of Chapter 2…-