Okaaay. Just to clarify. I am, indeed, time-skipping the voyages. In reality it takes a few months to get between Virginia and London and there was no unhappiness to show between Pocahontas and John Rolfe because there was none. John Rolfe was acting happy and all that good jazz. Also, John Smith wasn't a few hours away, he was three days away. (Yes, this means that Pocahontas's father survived three days being injured and in incredible pain before finally dying.) This gives John Rolfe a three-day, almost four-day, head start. Any more questions? No? Good, now read!

John Smith's POV

I stood at the wheel of my new ship, my eyes drooping. I hadn't slept for four days. I couldn't. If I did we would never catch up with Rolfe. It wasn't long before Ben approached me and took over.

"You've gotta sleep, Smith." He said, pushing me aside. I shook my head and grabbed the wheel again. "Smith." Ben turned to me. "You are going to be no good if you're dead on your feet. The men know we're headed for London, you don't have to be awake for us to sail there. Go down below and sleep."

If I didn't trust Ben so much, I wouldn't have listened. But, as it was, I did trust him. He had been on almost every one of my voyages, stood by my side on all of them, and proved himself trustworthy when saving my life on one of my first voyages. I was only a boy back then, as was he. Indians had be surrounded with spears and arrows. These Indians were not like Pocahontas and her people. They wanted to fight and kill. I suppose that's where my hatred of Indians came about. Well, just as they were about to kill me I hear a gunshot and there stands Ben, holding a rifle. The Indians, frightened at this new form of weapon, scattered, allowing Ben and I to escape unscathed.

I nodded to Ben and went below grudgingly, laying in one of the cots we had set up. Thomas was down there as well, getting over a terrible cold. I heard him cough and adjust himself as I laid down. I doubted I would even be able to sleep, I was too worried about Pocahontas and her people. Whatever Rolfe had planned, it wouldn't be good. Eventually I shut my eyes and drifted off.

I was in a small home in London, sitting in a comfortable arm chair and reading the paper. There was a fire going in the small fireplace and I had a cup of tea by my side.

"John." A female voice called. I looked up to see Pocahontas standing in the doorway in a long dress. Her hair was up and out of her face and she was holding a bundle of cloth. Was that a baby? "He is awake. Would you like to say hello to your son?" My heart raced and I smiled, putting the paper down and walking to her. She held out her arms and I took the baby from her, holding him to my chest. I could feel his body heat and almost hear his little heart beat. I had never been one for children, but this was amazing. I had never felt so at peace before. I lifted the little hood from his face, looking at his round, tan face. He wasn't as dark as his mother, almost a perfect balance of the two of us. Not very dark, but not very pale either. I saw blonde tufts of hair on his head and smiled, hoping he would open his eyes. Pocahontas stood beside me and smiled, putting her hand on the baby. He wiggled a little bit and yawned, opening his eyes slowly to reveal eyes like his mother. Deep, dark brown, wise, and almost sparkling. I looked at Pocahontas and smiled.

"He's beautiful." She smiled back at me and looked back at the baby.

"Just wait until he speaks." Wait until he speaks? He couldn't be old enough to speak yet. He was just a little thing. I looked at the baby boy again, wondering what he meant. I met his brown eyes with my own blue and he opened his mouth.

"Hello, Smith." I was greeted by John Rolfe's voice.

I woke with a start, almost falling off my cot. What a strange dream... I looked around where I sat, seeing only Thomas. All the other men were still above deck, I gathered. I got up from my cot slowly and walked up the stairs, walking to Ben at the wheel. He looked at me.

"Have a nice rest?" He asked, rolling his r's. I shrugged and leaned against the railing and looking out at the sea. It was dark now, so there was not much to look at. Only the moon against the waves. There was a pleasantly warm breeze blowing from the sea. I shut my eyes, letting the breeze wash over me.

"Go to her, John Smith." Grandmother Willow's voice seemed to say. Perhaps I was hearing things. The ocean could do that to a person, or perhaps I was actually hearing her. I suppose I would never know.

So close, yet so far. Review to bring them closer!