Hey, look at that, a chapter you didn't have to wait years for!


"Hold still, John, or you'll pull the scabs." Thomas instructed as he wound a fresh set of bandages around John's torso the next morning. It was early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, but all of the inhabitants of the house were alert and waiting on the razor edge of anticipation, the air thick with anxiety.

"Sorry," John apologized, wincing, and Pocahontas squeezed his hand, giving what comfort she could. He squeezed back, and offered her a small, pained smile. Thomas tied off the ends of the bandage and tucked it in, and stepped back.

"I pulled them a bit tighter to protect the wounds," he explained. "We don't know what kind of day we have ahead of us; always best to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Sorry to say it will limit your range of mobility a bit."

"With any luck, we don't have to worry about anyone overexerting themselves," Rolfe said.

The plan was simple: As it was highly unlikely that the King would hear of a private audience, they would instead insist upon it by catching the King off-guard whilst holding court. This was their opportunity to impress upon the King the importance of stopping Ratcliffe, before it was too late, whilst also capturing an audience with England's elite whom Pocahontas had not impressed with her display of anger at the Hunt Ball. This was a chance to sway opinions all around in their favor.

But it was also extremely dangerous; Pocahontas was already not in the King's good graces, and it was entirely possible that what he perceived to be a slight against him might cloud his judgment and make him entirely unwilling to listen to her, but she had to try. Her people were worth it.

And then there was John, who would not be swayed in his insistence to use himself as a means of exposing Ratcliffe's lies. He'd barely slept the night before, and this lack of sleep and the fact that he was still recovering caused him to sway slightly as he rose to his feet, but, ever the stubborn man she adored, he assured them all he was fine.

He slowly pulled the cotton shirt Rolfe had lent him over his tender back, wincing slightly as he did so.

"I'm fine," he said when Pocahontas raised her hands to help him. "Just pulls a bit is all."

"You should rest. Overexerting yourself will only make things worse." Pocahontas said, the worry evident in her voice. She fussed with the shirt, smoothing it out and feeling the bandages underneath.

He laid a hand over one of hers and smiled at her. "I'll rest when this is finished." He promised. "Then I'll stay in bed until I'm old and grey if it will make you feel better, but until this is done, I promise you that I am alright."

"I'll hold you to that promise." She said, smiling back.

Mrs. Jenkins fussed about, placing a plate of small sandwiches on the table next to steaming cups of tea.

"Make sure you eat something 'fore you go." She instructed sternly. "I'll not have you all traipsing off without food in your bellies, no matter the stakes!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins." Rolfe said with a gentle smile at the housekeeper. "We appreciate it."

Meeko hopped onto the table and sniffed curiously at the sandwiches. Mrs. Jenkins shooed him away and grabbed the plate, handing it to Uttamatomakkin, who held it with both hands without having to be told, well out of Meeko's reach, but still where they were able to be reached by the humans in the room. Meeko huffed, frustrated, and tapped his little foot against the floor, sulking. Percy looked exasperated.

"Stop pouting," Mrs. Jenkins admonished them. "You'll get your breakfast soon enough."

"Once we've reached the palace, we'll need to be admitted entry," Rolfe said, bringing them all back to the present. "I think it best to say that we have urgent business with the King, and hope that they believe us without a summons."

"And if that doesn't work, we will have to sneak in over the wall, just like before." Thomas said. "It won't be as easy in the daylight, but it's possible."

"I don't think that will be necessary, so long as we are able to make sure the two guards stationed at the door at the palace hall entrance are taken care of." Rolfe said. He handed John a cloak. "Best you wear that, until you're ready to reveal yourself."

John nodded in thanks and Pocahontas helped him drape it over his sore back, as he tied the leather throngs at his breastbone.

After a single sandwich each (under the ever watchful eye of Mrs. Jenkins) the four of them made their way to the front yard, where a carriage awaited them. John pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, and he kept his face low so that the coachman wouldn't be able to get a good look at him, and Thomas helped him up, Pocahontas following quickly behind. Rolfe instructed the driver to take them to the palace, and slipped him a few coins with a pointed tone to make sure they got there quickly before he pulled himself into the carriage and sat beside Thomas. He closed the door and leaned out the window, looking at Uttamatomakkin.

"Are you riding or running?" He asked.

Uttamatomakkin raised an eyebrow in answer, and Rolfe shrugged and settled back into the seat as the carriage jolted into motion, Uttamatomakkin jogging alongside.

No one said a word as the carriage jolted along the dirt lane towards the heart of London, especially after the man driving the carriage asked them what their business at court was. Thomas rang his battered cap in his hands, looking out the window at the passing scenery, while Rolfe leaned his head back against the carriage and closed his eyes serenely.

Pocahontas pressed her shoulder against John's, and even in the shadow of the cloak's hood, she saw him wince every time they hit a particularly rough spot in the road, his face slightly ashen. She found herself looking forward to being able to put all of this behind them, so that he could get the rest he needed to begin to heal, and they could return to Virginia and begin their lives together. She felt him lean against her in kind, and his hand opened, palm up, in invitation. Her heart soared as she took it.

It didn't take long before the carriage pulled through the gates of the palace, the coachman clicking softly to the horses as they slowed to a stop right outside. The four of them quickly climbed out of the carriage, rejoining Uttamatomakkin. Rolfe paid the coachman, and led the way through the palace pathways, having traversed them numerous times before. He led them into a hallway, with elaborate tapestries and paintings hanging on the walls, towards the grand hall where he said the King would be holding court.

"Once we're there, Utte may need to dispose of the guards stationed outside the doors," Rolfe said quietly. "I doubt we will encounter much resistance, but it may be best to have them taken care of."

Uttamatomakkin cracked his knuckles and nodded, signaling that he understood.

"From there, Pocahontas will need to enter first, and beg an audience with the King before the court. We must convince the King to stop Ratcliffe and the armada, by any means necessary. Smith, it's probably best that you and Brown wait in the hallway until the time is right for you to enter; if you do so too early, the King may be more interested in calling the guards to arrest you rather than listen to what Pocahontas has to say."

Rolfe stopped them with an arm out, just before they were about to round a corner. He pressed his finger to his lips to indicate quiet and peeked around the corner.

"There are two guards." He said to Uttamatomakkin. "Think you can handle them?"

Uttamatomakkin didn't even nod as he strode forward around the corner. There was the brief sound of surprise from the guards, following by the clattering of armor before Uttamatomakkin walked back around the corner, one guard under each arm, both unconscious. He sat them down and leaned them against the wall, tipping their helmets down over their eyes as if to shield them from the light to allow for a more restful sleep.

The five of them quietly made their way to the double doors that would take them into the grand courtroom. Rolfe pressed his ear against the wood and listened intently.

"The King is speaking, it sounds to be about taxes." He informed them. "Now is a good time to intervene." He looked at Pocahontas. "Are you ready?"

Pocahontas took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to the beat of her heart for a few moments. She felt a light breeze coming from one of the hall windows ruffle her hair, and she smiled, touching the white shell of her mother's necklace at her collarbone.

The spirits of her homeland were with her, even here. She could feel it.

She opened her eyes and let out the breath, holding her head high.

"I'm ready." She said.

Rolfe stepped aside, and she laid her hands upon the doors and pushed them open.

The court fell silent for a moment as the hinges of the doors creaked loudly. Whispers erupted as she strode into the room, but Pocahontas did not pay any other actors in the room any mind other than the one before her. The King was staring at her, shock written comically across his angular face as she approached him and the Queen sat at his side. She watched as shock melted into agitation as she approached.

"Pocahontas?!" The King demanded. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Surely His Majesty would not pass on an audience with a visiting princess?" Pocahontas said coolly as she came to stand in the middle of the long, plush rug. She gazed at the English king head-on, and unflinching; she would not give him the satisfaction of thinking that he intimidated her when he did not.

"This is preposterous!" The King spat. "Is it not enough that you have embarrassed yourself once at the Hunt Ball, but to show up uninvited to court—!"

"Please, Your Majesty," Rolfe interjected before the King could carry on his tirade. "Listen to her."

The King sniffed. "John Rolfe," he said. "I expected better of you than to entertain such foolhardiness!"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, what she has to say is of vital importance. I implore you to hear her out."

The King huffed, but he waved his hand, allowing them to speak.

"Your Majesty," Pocahontas said, feeling her resolve beginning to grow within her as she slowly stepped forward once more. "I implore you, stop the armada against my people."

The King regarded her for a moment, looking at her past the tip of his nose, but he did not interrupt her.

"I have come far from my home in the hopes that I show you that my people are not the savages we have been made out to be. We are a peaceful people, who only ask to be allowed our humanity. There is much we can learn from you, and I believe that you can learn just as much from us as well. I have come here to proctor peace between our peoples, so that we may live in harmony with one another. But if there is to be war between our people, I assure you that my people will fight to the last warrior. There is so little to be gained, but so much to be lost."

The Queen, who had listened intently to all that Pocahontas had to say, gently laid a hand upon her husband's arm.

"There is no gold, is there?" She asked.

"No, Your Majesty." Pocahontas answered. "My people have no gold."

"This cannot be!" The King thundered. "Ratcliffe assured me—"

"That I was dead?" John's voice called out.

All heads snapped back to look at the hooded figure that had stepped into the courtroom, walking slowly to stand at Pocahontas' side, Thomas not far behind. Pocahontas held her breath as John pulled back his hood, revealing himself as a chorus of gasps broke out amongst the men in the stands once they realized who stood before them: John Smith, twice back from the dead.

The King stared at him with wide eyes, as though he'd seen a ghost.

"John Smith?!" He demanded. "But how?! Ratcliffe told me you'd succumbed to the lash at the Tower!"

"Is it true?" John asked. "Ratcliffe has been lying to you about everything. Let my standing before you be a testament to that."

"If there is to be war," Pocahontas continued, her heart beginning to pound in her chest at the thought. "There will be no winners, Your Majesty. We do not have the gold Ratcliffe claims. Please, call off the armada, before it is too late!"

The King was silent for a moment, still appearing to be processing exactly what it was he was seeing before him, until he shook his head.

"Princess Pocahontas," he said at last. "I have heard your pleas, and I believe I would like to hear more from you about your people, and what an alliance with them the people of Jamestown could entail, but I believe you to be right. I would also be very interested to hear more of any other matters that have been mislaid before me, especially regarding the resources of your people, but we must first do as you've asked and call off the armada."

Pocahontas felt hope begin to bloom, bright and glorious, in her chest, but she didn't dare allow herself to feel it too much, too soon; they still had to stop Ratcliffe, and they had very, very little time to do so.

"But hasn't Ratcliffe left?" The Queen impored. "It is too late!"

"I'll send ahead a small squadron to try and intercept the armada before it sails," King James said. "In the meantime, court is adjourned for the day!"

"We will ride with the squadron, if it is alright with Your Majesty," John said.

The King nodded. "I will have horses arranged for you." He said. "I will not be far behind. I would like to have words with Ratcliffe about a few things." He eyed John. "Are you sure you're fit to ride? You look awfully pale, boy."

"Ratcliffe was truthful about one thing, and it's that he had the whip taken to me," John admitted, and Pocahontas reached out and wrapped her hands around his arm, squeezing gently as he winced slightly. "But I assure you, I am fine, Your Majesty. I have been in worse pain than this."

Thomas huffed and rolled his eyes.

The King gazed at him for another moment. "Very well, then," the King agreed finally, and said nothing more on the matter. "You'll find horses waiting for you outside. You must hurry if you wish to stop the armada."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Pocahontas said, feeling the first stirrings of hope in her heart since Ratcliffe had shown up at Rolfe's door the day previous.

"Don't thank me yet, dear girl." The King said. "Stop the armada, and then I would like it very much if you and I could have a conversation. I would like to learn more about the people you love so much."

Pocahontas smiled. "I would be honored."

The King nodded at her and waved his hand.

"Off with you now; I will meet you at the pier."

Pocahontas looked at John, who nodded. She slipped her hand into his, and the five of them took a hasty leave from the courtroom, Rolfe leading them down yet another set of hallways into a courtyard, where several horses waited for them, saddled and ready to ride, their nostrils flared and stopping their hooves in anticipation.

"Once we reach the pier, it's imperative we locate Ratcliffe at once." Rolfe said as he swung himself into a saddle. "The squadron will ensure any discourse will be swiftly dealt with, and they will make sure the King's will is enforced, but it is unlikely that Ratcliffe will go down without a fight."

"Leave him to me." John said, also stepping into the stirrups and hoisting himself upwards, flinching just slightly as he did so. Pocahontas selected a horse next to his, and followed suit, alongside Thomas, while Uttamatomakkin eyed the horses distrustfully.

Rolfe looked at him. "It may be best that you ride this time." He suggested kindly, and Uttamatomakkin, who had grown to trust him, gave a single nod before he too chose a horse and copied his compatriots.

Without another word, they rode out.

As they neared the docks, Pocahontas could see the billowing while sails of the ships above the buildings, contrasted starkly against gathering black rain clouds. She gave a sigh of relief; the fact that she could see them meant they hadn't set sail yet, and that there was still time to stay the armada and save her people. She clenched the reins of her horse tightly and closed her eyes, feeling the wind in her hair, and prayed to the spirits that everything that had led her to this moment had not been in vain, prayed that they held her steady on her path.

She opened her eyes to see leaves swirling in the wind before her, towards the nearing docks, as if showing her the way, and she smiled, knowing her mother's spirit was with her still, even in this land.

"There!" Thomas called out, pointing to a large black ship at the docks. Men carried large barrels up the plank onto the deck, presumably filled with gunpowder, while others rolled cannons and carried muskets. Pocahontas felt her heart stutter in her chest at the thought of such weapons being used against her people, who would never stand a chance against them.

The squadron pulled up at the docks, and the soldiers – along with Pocahontas, John, and their friends – dismounted immediately, their captain marching forward.

"By order of King James, you are to cease this operation immediately!" He bellowed at the men working, who all turned to look at him. "Any insubordination will be seen as a direct threat to the word of the King, and will be dealt with swiftly!"

The men quickly set down their burdens and raised their hands in surrender.

"Where is Governor Ratcliffe?" John demanded.

"There!" One of the dock men pointed towards the ship, where Ratcliffe, atop a black horse, sped across the deck, the horse jumping the distance between the ship and the one docked next to it, where it landed gracefully on the other deck. He then proceeded to run down the plank onto the pier, and down into the streets of London.

"He's getting away!" Rolfe shouted, pointing.

"After him!" The captain of the guards demanded, but before any of his soldiers could comply with his order, John mounted and dug his heels into the sides of his horse.

"John!" Thomas called.

Pocahontas wasted no time; her heart hammering in her chest and a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, she too remounted and set off after her love.

"Pocahontas, wait!" She heard Rolfe yell after her, but it was no use; she was already gone.

...oOo...

Ratcliffe may have gotten a head start, but John's horse was obviously of better breeding, for it didn't take long for him to catch up to Ratcliffe as they both raced through the streets of London. Rain had started to fall in droves, pelting the ground and John's face, soaking him through head to toe in a matter of minutes.

Ratcliffe, sensing John on his heels, kept making sudden turns down cobbled streets and alleyways, hoping to throw John off his trail, or slow him down, to no avail. John chased him through the streets of London in a veritable monsoon, never once allowing him out of his sight, despite the water and wet hair in his eyes.

He followed Ratcliffe as he made a right turn, down a street that John knew led to a dead end, as it was a river wall with the Thames a twenty foot drop below. Ratcliffe reared his horse to an abrupt stop when he realized, and John slowed his, blocking Ratcliffe's path back to the main road. The rain pinged lightly on the black armor plates on his shoulders, and his eyes were wild with anger as he and John stared each other down.

"It's over, Ratcliffe." John declared. "The King has ordered the armada stayed, and you're to be brought in for questioning for treason against the crown."

"How is it," Ratcliffe spat. "That every time I think I'm finally rid of your aggravating presence, you find yourself entangled in my plans?"

"Consider it my life's work." John retorted.

"You've been nothing but a thorn in my side from the moment you stepped foot on my ship two years ago," Ratcliffe said. "It's too bad your little savage princess interfered that day at the cliffside. It would have been so much easier to allow the savage chief to take you out. At least then I'd have my gold."

"You and I both know your lies would have caught up to you eventually," John said. "You know that the Powhatans have no gold, and yet you convinced the King to allow you to lay waste to them, and for what gain? You'd wipe out an entire village of innocent men, women, and children and you'd still be left without an ounce of gold to prove it! What would you propose then?"

"The King would have believed anything I'd told him," Ratcliffe said. "Had you died when you were bloody well supposed to!"

"Sorry to disappoint you." John snapped dryly. "But it's over. The King knows you lied, Ratcliffe. Either you come willingly, or you'll go by force."

Ratcliffe laughed. "Is that so?" He asked. "In that case, if I go down, I'm taking you with me."

He reached into his jacket and produced a pistol, and before John had any time to react, Ratcliffe fired.

The bullet bounced off the cobblestones at John's horse's hooves, causing the horse to whinny in fear, rearing back. John grabbed onto the horse's mane to attempt to keep himself in the saddle, to no avail; the horse reared a second time, and this time, the mane, slick with rainwater, slipped from John's fingers and he fell to the ground, landing hard on his back.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and his vision blackened at the edges in the moment before the pain, sharp and deep, overtook every sense in his body.

His ears rang, and for a moment, he thought he would lose consciousness; he was vaguely aware of the sound of his name being screamed as lightning flashed overhead, thunder following immediately behind. He fought to bring air into his burning lungs and against the way his eyes refused to clear as a blurry figure appeared above him. He felt hands on his face, brushing the wet hair back from his forehead, and his name began to filter through. The figure finally swam into stark focus, revealing it to be Pocahontas above him, her long hair soaked and sticking to her cheeks and shoulders, panic written across every inch of her face.

"John!" She said urgently. "John, are you alright?!"

John groaned, unable to answer through the pain, still sharp and overwhelming, and he felt nausea rising into his throat; he swallowed it down. His vision still swam as he rolled onto his side, and he struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position, the motion pulling at his wounds, and he cried out in pain, his arm giving out underneath him. Pocahontas immediately reached out and grabbed him, steading him and slowly helping him to sit up into a kneeling position, and he doubled over in pain, unable to do anything else as pain coursed through him.

He felt a hesitant hand at his shoulder, pushing aside the sodden cloak, and he heard Pocahontas's breath catch as she caught sight of what he knew were lashes that had reopened upon impact with the ground. For a moment, he mused that he couldn't tell if he were even bleeding or not as soaked as he was from the rain, but the faint red staining the stones where he'd hit the ground confirmed his suspicions.

"John!" Pocahontas insisted. "Answer me, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," he ground out. "I've had…" He gasped as another opened lash pulled and Pocahontas pressed her palms to his chest to steady him. "Worse pain than this."

Black boots appeared in his line of sight and he looked up to see Ratcliffe smiling cruelly down at them, kneeling in the street before him.

John realized that in the moments it took him to regain his senses after the fall and for Pocahontas to appear, Ratcliffe had reloaded his pistol, which he now passively pointed in their direction. On instinct, even through the way the pain pulled at the edges of his very being, John gathered Pocahontas to him, tucking her securely against his chest to try and shield her.

"My, isn't this touching." Ratcliffe sneered as he walked towards them. "Smith and his savage, together again." He chuckled darkly and raised the gun higher. "Just as you'll be in eternity."

"Let her go," John insisted. He felt her hands in his shirt tighten at the suggestion. "This has nothing to do with her."

"This has everything to do with her!" Ratcliffe snapped. "She has managed to turn the King against me; she and her savage people are to blame for all of this!"

"You've brought about your own downfall," Pocahontas said. "You lied to the King for your own gains, and now it has caught up to you!"

"And I would have gotten away with it(1), had you not stuck your nose where it isn't wanted!" Ratcliffe raised his voice and leveled the gun at them again. "But, no matter. I have you both right where I want you; groveling at my feet like the vermin you both are. Fitting, I suppose."

Pocahontas's eyes were blazing as she raised her chin and stared him down, and in that moment John was reminded just how brave she was. How incredible she was.

"You don't frighten me." She declared. "You may think you have won, but you know this is the end for you. I can see it in your eyes. You thrive on the fear that you inflict upon those beneath you. You rely on preying on their own insecurities and vulnerabilities so as to avoid your own. And those that stand up to you, aren't afraid of you, you conveniently find ways to be rid of them, yes? It was much easier for you to incite an uprising among your men against my people by saying it was to save their friend, but I saw you. You didn't do anything at the plateau that day. It was always much more convenient to let my father kill the man that threatened your credibility and use it as an excuse to cite vengeance. I know of your kind. Let me assure you, men like you will always kick at the wolf while he is sleeping, but when he awakes, you must suffer the bite. You may think you've won, but even if you kill us, you've still lost."

Rage lit itself like the lightning that split open the sky once more on Ratcliffe's face and he snarled, leveling the gun once more. Pocahontas never looked away from him, her dark eyes as cold and steely as flint and iron, but she allowed John to hold her just a bit closer in a feeble attempt at protection, and it struck him that unless a miracle came, this might actually be their death.

At least they were together.

"I should have done this years ago." Ratcliffe sneered, and cocked the safety on the gun. "Say goodbye."

As Ratcliffe's finger curled around the trigger of the pistol, the miracle John had prayed for arrived.

The distinctive sound of musket fire filled the air, and Ratcliffe yelped in pain and dropped the pistol to the cobblestones, clutching the back of his hand where a deep, angry red line of blood welled.

John and Pocahontas whirled around to find Rolfe, Uttamatomakkin, Thomas, and several guards at the mouth of the alleyway. Thomas held the musket, still leveled at Ratcliffe as he strode forward, both eyes open, just like John had taught him.

"You idiot!" Ratcliffe snapped. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"You once told me a man is not a man," Thomas spat bitterly, "Unless he knows how to shoot. Is that man enough for you, governor? Or shall I try it again?" He pointed the gun at Ratcliffe's chest.

"You wouldn't dare." Ratcliffe challenged. He slowly took a step back, however, putting a foot of distance between himself and the barrel of the musket.

"Don't tempt me." Thomas warned.

Several guards came forward and wrestled Ratcliffe's hands behind his back, snapping shackles into his wrists. Ratcliffe grunted angrily and struggled in their hold.

"Unhand me this instant!" He demanded. "Arrest them," he nodded his head at John and Pocahontas. "They're the ones you want!"

"Enough!" The captain of the guards strode forward. "Governor John Ratcliffe, you are hereby found guilty of treason, and are to be brought to the Tower immediately to await your trial, after which you will be beheaded and denied a burial, by order of King James I."

Ratcliffe paled, horror beginning to dawn on his ugly face.

"Beheaded?!" He sputtered.

"Pity," John said sarcastically. "I so would have preferred to see you hanged."

And with that, the guards marched Ratcliffe away, Ratcliffe shouting the entire way.

Thomas lowered the gun, and he and Rolfe immediately moved to help them. Rolfe held out his hand to Pocahontas, who took it and rose to her feet before she immediately turned her attention to John as Thomas helped him shakily to his feet. John stumbled, the pain once again returning, and Rolfe grabbed his other shoulder, just as he had done at the Tower two days previous.

"Easy," Rolfe said softly. "You're bleeding. Take it slow."

"What happened?" Thomas asked. "It looks like you ripped open quite a few lashings!"

"My horse threw me." John explained through clenched teeth as Rolfe readjusted his grip.

"We need to get you back to my estate, where you can rest. I will see if I can call in a doctor to help us, now that we no longer have to hide that you're alive." Rolfe said.

"And don't you dare try to insist you're fine," Pocahontas interjected.

"Alright," John admitted. "I'm not fine."

And he allowed the darkness at the edge of his being to overtake him.

...oOo...

Later that night, after all of them had been fed a hearty meal and given warm baths under strict orders from Mrs. Jenkins ("By the fire this instant, all of you, before you catch your death of cold!"), Pocahontas sat at John's bedside, still wrapped in a thick blanket as the fire in the hearth flickered cheerfully, casting shadows across the surface of the room. She rubbed the knuckles of John's hand gently as she reminisced about all that had transpired that day.

After Ratcliffe had been taken away, John had finally succumbed to the exhaustion, physical exertion, and pain that he had tampered behind a wall of insistence of being "fine." Uttamatomakkin was strong enough to be able to help carry him back to the main road, where Rolfe was able to call for a cart to help transport him back to the pier, where the King waited. King James, grateful to have Ratcliffe apprehended, was more than happy to call for not only a carriage to take them home, but insisted upon sending a medicine man to Rolfe's estate to make sure he got the proper medical attention for the lashings.

Which is where she found them both now. Luckily, Thomas had been smart to make sure John's bandages were tight; this had protected the majority of the lashings from reopening when he'd fallen from the horse, and only around three of the bigger lashes had reopened, though the fall had definitely only compounded the pain that was already present.

The English medicine man had applied several healing salves to the wounds and rebandaged them, praising both Rolfe and Thomas for the amateur care they'd been able to provide him immediately following the whipping.

John was dozing, but not sleeping, laying on his stomach; she was content to let him, relieved that he was finally, finally allowing himself to rest, relieved that he was finally granted the freedom to do so. Meeko was curled up at his side, Percy at his feet, while Flit had alighted himself on her shoulder and was pressed against her neck. The comfortable silence between them, warm and lovely, was like dipping her feet into the River on a hot summer's day; a relief and a joy that her heart could not help but bask in.

They would have a lifetime of silences like this.

"The medicine man says that you should be healed enough to travel in half a moon," she said softly. "Provided you continue to rest and not push yourself too hard."

John hummed. "A promise is a promise," he said. "I'll do whatever it takes so that when the time comes, we can be on the next ship out."

"You still want to come back to my homeland with me?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side, Pocahontas," he said earnestly. "And you belong with your people."

"I admit that I find England fascinating, but I have seen enough of it for a lifetime." She said, "I am ready to go home. I miss my father, and Nakoma, and Grandmother Willow."

John squeezed her hand.

"You'll see them again soon." He promised.

"The King wants us to attend another ball before we leave." Pocahontas said. "I think I could enjoy that, as long as I never have to wear a corset again, and as a certain someone keeps himself out of trouble."

"I make no promises of keeping out of trouble." John teased back. "It is a vow you and I both know I will break."

She laughed, and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"I love you." She said. "Even when you get yourself into scrapes you can't get out of."

"That's why I have you." He said. "To help get me out of them."

"I do seem to have to rescue you a lot," she teased.

"Hey now, no need to bruise my pride." He said, humor painting every word. He squeezed her hand again and looked at her, his blue eyes tired, but bright. "You saved your people today. You brought peace to them once more. They'll be so proud of you."

Pocahontas smiled. "You helped, John. Just as you did last time."

"I beg to differ," he said. "The last time I did little more than just lay there and let you do all the talking."

She gave him a reproachful look. "Don't be self-deprecating. You saved my father that day. You proved that you have the bravery of a warrior, and my people have never forgotten that." She tucked a strand of hair back in place. "Just as was the case that day, I could not have brought peace between our people without you today."

"You were incredible." John said. "You are incredible. You're the most incredible woman I have ever met, and I love you for it."

Something in her chest burst, bright and beautiful, at the sound of those rare but precious words spoken aloud.

"I love you too." She traced her finger over his brow. "But you should sleep now."

"As should you." He reminded her. "I'm not going anywhere; I'll be here tomorrow when you wake."

Pocahontas smiled and reached over to ruffle the fur between Meeko's ears before she adjusted the blanket, pulling it up and over her love. She leaned down and kissed him again, allowing her forehead to linger on his for a moment.

"Goodnight." She whispered.

"Goodnight." He answered in kind.

Yes, she thought; she could get used to a lifetime of moments like these.


(1) The sheer force of will it took for me to NOT write "if it hadn't been for you meddling kids" after this line was Herculean, let me tell you.

And can we talk about that absolutely BADASS line of Thomas'?! I've had that line written for YEARS. As soon as I was able to write into the story for real, I damn near shed a tear. ("That's my Batman boy!" I whispered into my tea as Christian Bale's character from the newest Thor movie my fiancé was watching as I wrote this prattled on in the background.)

The next chapter will be the last! Not sure when I'll be done with it, as I am six weeks away from my wedding, but believe it or not I have a sizeable portion of it done already, so it should be any day now.

Until then!