A/N: Hi all!

First of all, I hope everyone is doing well! Take a break and enjoy the first chapter of this fic. Also, thank Hc247 and babyb26 because without the nagging, I mean encouragement and motivation this would not have gotten done. I love you guys!

All comments, reviews, constructive criticism and even suggestions or ideas are greatly welcomed! Feel free to private message me anytime and I will do my absolute best to get back to you!

Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pocahontas. History and Disney co. own everything. I do own any original character you do not recognize. If you wish to borrow them a quick message to ask me would be very thoughtful of you!

Enjoy and Please Please review on your way out! More reviews equals more writing muses showing up! I really appreciate all of you!

-…-…-

It should have been a simple shopping trip.

A shopping trip where nothing eventful would happen. It would be simple and easy.

An excursion for her to get fresh air and time to truly look at the old city of London. A calming trip where she could actually appreciate the sights.

It was also one that her fiancé, John Rolfe asked her to go for he wanted her opinion on what she thought would be best to take back for the natives.

"We need to smooth things over," John Rolfe began as he glanced down at the list in his hand, "I need to smooth things over. Especially with your father if I am to win his blessing."

Pocahontas arched an eyebrow, "Winn his blessing? I am certain the new peace treaty you negotiated with the king will do quite nicely."

"Yes," he replied, "I know however our marriage could or could not be a part of the peace.-"

They had just exited the comfortable carriage and were heading towards the first store when a voice seemingly sliced through the air.

"John Rolfe!"

Both of them startled as the high pitched voice seemed to shriek his name in the crowd, "John Rolfe! John Rolfe! Is it really you? I thought you left! Can you please move? Excuse me! Thank you, sorry thank you!"

Some of the crowd politely parted ways whilst others were hurriedly brushed aside as a woman wearing an emerald colored gown finally reached the couple. Pocahontas stood awkwardly on the side of the road whilst Rolfe kissed the pretty brunette's hand.

"I am so relieved to see you!" she gushed at the same time the native princess winced at her voice.

"My brother you know Robert told me that you had already left, followed by my sister; you remember Rose do you not? Anyhow, she heard from her friend Martha's aunt that your ship had indeed not left and…-"

As the young lady in front of them took a breath Rolfe cut in, "This is Patricia Winters. Our parents grew up together."

"Yes," Patricia said on a breath, "I would, I mean my father would love to invite you over to dine with us before you go. Is that?"

It was then she stopped, ever so slightly narrowing her green eyes at the woman in front of her, "Who is this again?"

"My name is Pocahontas," the princess replied, "I am from.-"

"The new world," Patricia gasped, "I am so sorry I have heard and I glimpsed you somewhere but I easily forget things. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course.-"

"Oh good! John Rolfe, please say you will come and dine? It would be an honor to have you and Pocahon…-"

An awkward pause followed as Patricia's eyes swept the crowd so fast that even the native princess found it difficult to follow her line of sight. She would have sworn the emerald eyes had rotated all around the multitude without the young woman even blinking.

Another moment of silence past before Patricia exclaimed, "Look! Look! I can't believe it! Tis John Smith! John Smith! I cannot believe!-"

'I'm surprised she isn't leaping for joy.'

Pocahontas could not help the sardonic thought that went through her mind. Patricia seemed to exude a strange type of energy that the princess found out of place for such a high class English lady. It made her briefly wonder what the nobles thought of the overly exuberant woman.

That said woman placed a quick hand to her mouth and moved closer towards the couple, "Father says not to have anything to do with him. However, with his new high standing with the king and well… Everyone knows of the famous Captain John Smith! Everyone! I mean everyone! I don't know if you have heard the rumors say he will publish a book of his various adventures! Is that not thrilling?"

As she spoke, Pocahontas slightly turned her head the direction Patricia had indicated. Sure enough, he was hurriedly walking down another street. She could not refrain from pondering if he could hear Patricia's voice talking about him as she watched the wind play with the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. It was then Pocahontas slowly turned to face Rolfe and the overly friendly girl. Her dark eyes took in the surroundings whilst listening to Rolfe try to get out of the situation they had found themselves.

"Miss, I do appreciate your invitation. However, I fear I must… Well, we have a lot to do and…"

'Is this what you want?'

A voice screamed in her head as she looked down at her own dress. Though not as fancy as Patricia's, it was simple yellow and had ruffled material around the high neckline. It was either the itchiness of her gown or the headache brought on by Patricia's voice that made her act in such a way.

"Please," Pocahontas interrupted one of them, "I have to get some air. Will you excuse me?"

She couldn't even muster an apologetic glance in Rolfe's direction before gathering her skirts and dashing away. She had simply turned and approached an intersection. Knowing that Smith had taken a left, she took the other way in order to avoid him.

'Why?'

It was that same voice, the one that the woman knew she had been ignoring for the past three weeks. The thought that would follow her during the day and torment her at night. Head down, she wove her way through the various squares and open markets the city had to offer. As there seemed to be a hold up of people ahead, Pocahontas slowed her pace along the road. What had started as a light jog was now a meandering walk through London. The place she had not even heard of until John Smith had told her about it. A place she could not have even imagined. Yet here she was, a well to do beautiful, "reformed savage," and she was happy.

Happy that all had gone well with her people. Ecstatic for peace. Truly knowing all would be well was worth everything. Despite a few missing details, she smiled and tried to calm her nerves. She could no longer hear Patricia's voice and although the young lady was friendly this fact alone made Pocahontas's spirits rise considerably.

"I am content," the native woman said under her breath as the people slowed in front of her, "I am happy. Happy, very happy! Why should I not be?"

'Are you? Knowing what they think of you? Do you not realize how Rolfe sees you?'

Before she had time to quiet her mind a sudden shout startled her musings, "Watch!"

She felt the air leave her lungs. A sudden collision found her sprawled out on the road, her fine gown getting instantly covered in muck from the streets.

"Oh! I am so sorry!"

A voice seemed to float on the wind whilst Pocahontas lay surrounded by boxes and bags of all sorts. A particular heavy sack landed on her abdomen thus preventing her movement. The person didn't appear to notice as he knelt and gathered the strewn items on the road.

"Are you alright? I did not realize the people had…"

She knew that voice. She would always recognize it for the rest of her life. Hence the native's mouth dropped open before her eyes came back into focus. Only to see the mere man that she had been avoiding kneeling barely two feet away.

"You… You…"

It seemed all she could gasp out as she tried to move the heavy item off of her.

"Oh! Sorry…"

In an instant the sack was moved and Pocahontas was able to sit up. She coughed once as her lungs took in a full breath of air.

"Pocahontas!"

For a brief moment, she relished the look of surprise on his face before he looked down.

"I am very sorry I ran into you," John Smith regretfully apologized as he stood gathering his things, "Are you alright? Do you need a hand up?"

Dumbfounded, Pocahontas shook her head as if to clear it. Placing her palm on the ground in order to get back on her feet, she winced as pressure was applied.

Seeing the brief but pained look on her face, John smith placed down his packages and knelt at her side.

"I'm fine… Just a little…"

Without a word, she watched as he gently picked up her hand and examined it. Following his gaze, she saw that part of her palm was scraped and little pieces of skin that looked to her like tiny fingers surrounded a cut across the area near her wrist. The two of them sat like that, staring at the offending wound as if blaming it for appearing. The woman trying to ignore the warmth of his sturdy hand and how tender his hold felt.

"I'm fi…-"

"Come with me," he interrupted as Smith; not letting go of her hand stood thus forcing Pocahontas to do the same. To her amazement he went slowly until they both were steady on their feet. That was when he released her hand and bent to retrieve all his possessions.

"Thank you," she began as she tried to brush herself off, "I really must be getting back. I am certain John Rolfe will be worried and I am sure he will have the appropriate care…-"

"At his estate no doubt," he cut her off again, "Whilst I have things now if you will follow me."

Pocahontas took a step back while the city bustled past them, "It is alright. You do not have to…-"

"I realize that but…-"

"It can wait to get seen…-"

"Do you want an infection?"

She shook her head, "I am merely saying…-"

She watched a shoulder lift in a half shrug, "I have seen infections of the hand and…-"

'A lady always shows decorum.'

The thought floated across her mind as her other hand fisted in the fabric of her dress.

Speaking slow as if to a child she began, "I must get back and try to find…-"

"Come now, there is some blood on your arm I can…-"

It seemed in that moment all reason and rational thought had left her. For not only she was annoyed at the turn of events, a spark of anger had lit from somewhere deep in her soul.

'How dare him! How dare he care now!' A voice screamed in her head as John took a step closer.

"I am alright! I could have been back by now!...-"

"If you would…-"

"Stop interrupting me! Can I not get in a word? If I leave here then my group won't be able to find me. Do you not understand?"

"Ah yes," John began as he shifted his weight, "John Rolfe and Patricia Winters. Tell me, how is that conversation going?"

Pocahontas gritted her teeth in exasperation whilst John Smith turned and started walking back the way he had come. She watched him go after a few paces he stopped and looked back at her.

"Are you not coming? I am aware that your hand has to hurt."

His tone almost seemed mocking to her. However, and she wasn't sure if it were the throbbing sensation in her hand or her mind wanting to think that underneath it was also genuine concern.

It was the wind who made up her mind. Whilst a strong gust suddenly blew, lose dirt combined with the sudden cold made her gasp in surprise and clench her injured hand in protest.

"A-alright," she mumbled more to herself as she shyly took a few steps forward. They walked in silence, John Smith carrying his packages and Pocahontas following with one hand fisted in the fabric of her dress and the other close to her side. She kept her dark eyes on the ground lest she fall again, although she knew this accident was not her doing.

"This is your fault," she bit out suddenly whilst matching her pace to walk beside him, "If you had watched where you were going this would not have happened."

His tone seemed bored, "If I recall you had your head down. I did not see you."

"My gown is yellow," she snapped, "It is a bright color."

"I did not see any yellow then," he remarked as they turned off the main street and headed down a less populated one.

"You were going awfully fast," Pocahontas began as she looked at her injured hand, "I do not want to keep you from any engagements or anything…"

Her voice trailed off as they continued walking. Glancing up, Pocahontas noted the stately homes and quiet surroundings.

"It is no trouble," Smith said as they turned down another side street, "I was merely going to my cart to drop these things off before continuing my shopping."

A short pause followed, "What fell on me? Twas so heavy I couldn't sit up!"

"Ah," he seemed to think for a moment, "That would be salt."

The word hung in the air between them until they finally stopped at the side of the road. Looking up, Pocahontas noticed a wooden cart. A sorrel glanced up from some grass it was chewing as if acknowledging John's approach.

"That is Storm," he said as the horse let out a sound, "She's a good one."

"She is very pretty," Pocahontas let out a little smile as Storm seemed to bob her head in appreciation of the complement.

"She is pretty and fast," John replied as he stroked the horse's nose, "We have gotten to know one another quite well over the years."

Pocahontas nodded as John moved some boxes off the bench of the cart and held out his arm, "Do you need help up here? I will be better able to see your hand."

"I am fine," the native answered as she lifted her skirts so as not to step on them and held onto the other seat in order to get herself on the cart. Whilst gathering her gown's material around her legs, Pocahontas gingerly opened her scraped palm. She winced as the damp air came in contact with the cut skin.

"Here," he was already beside her as John took the injured hand. She watched as he rested it on his knee before lifting it closer towards his face in order to get a better look.

"I will just clean and bandage it. I think… I think that is all it needs…"

He stopped talking whilst turning her wrist and Pocahontas could not help but flinch.

"Sorry…"

John mumbled before placing her arm down. The native remained silent as John reached in one of the smaller boxes, pulling out a few items.

"Can you hold this?"

She reached for the items, their hands brushing as John placed some clean cloth in her uninjured hand. Pocahontas gazed on as he opened the small bottle before she promptly turned her head and sneezed at the unpleasant smell.

"What is that?!"

"This is alcohol," John explained, "It is not like wine for this is used to clean wounds. This will sting."

Before she had time to object, the alcohol soaked cloth was placed over her cut hand. A sudden intake of breath and tears sprung to her eyes as her arm seemed to have a mind of its own by jerking away from the offending cloth.

'He must've been expecting this.' She thought as he let up yet her hand kept twitching.

"Sorry… Sorry… It is alright… I know I know..."

It was then she realized he was quietly speaking to her whilst dabbing the cut area.

His soothing tone did not help as after a moment the princess exclaimed, "Stop! Hell!"

He did, lowering her hand whilst Pocahontas wiped her forehead with her sleeve.

"Back home it does not hurt like that. Maybe you held it on to long?"

"I have to clean it or you may get an infection. You are also still bleeding a bit… I do not like…"

"Maybe," she said on a breath, "Maybe I we should go find Rolfe and OWWW!"

This time, her injured arm jerked out of his firm grasp and she held it close to her chest. A thin line of crimson slid down her arm and onto the sleeve of her dress.

"There is something in the wound," John began as he once again reached for her hand, "I was trying to get it out by…-"

"By putting hard pressure on the wound?"

"In order to stop the bleeding…-"

"It is not that bad for OWWW! Damn! WH-why are you pushing on the!"

A string of expletives in her own language came forth as the captain pressed on the top edge of the cut where Pocahontas could feel something sharp dig in the raw flesh.

The native bit her lip in embarrassment, "I, I am so sorry! That is not me… I just… I was not expecting…"

She allowed her voice to fade away.

She was not expecting any of this. Not expecting to be assaulted by a high pitched perky little voice. Not expecting to be run over and definitely by the man she least wanted to see. She had anticipated a delightful afternoon walk through London, looking at the products and speaking to all the different people. She did not expect the pain of her fall or her violent outburst of words. Pocahontas blinked as John got off the cart. She watched as he hitched Storm up and swung into the driver's seat. The whole affair felt awkward, like all had gone wrong within a span of thirty minutes.

"I cannot get it out," John Smith regretfully apologized, "I am so sorry. I never, I never meant…"

"Right," the woman began as she breathed, "I will go and.-"

"I have a good friend who can fix this."

"What?"

His sudden statement caused her to pause from the half standing position she found herself in order to get down from the cart.

"Yes, his name is Ansgar Gwerder. He is an apothecary from Germany."

The princess shook her head, "What?"

"Ansgar can help you."

"I have wasted enough time here," she snapped as her injured hand clenched in the fabric of her gown, "I am going to try and find John Rolfe and that girl… Patti something.-"

"What street were you on?"

Her weary eyes swept the surroundings, "A street in London. We were on our way to the shopping district. The carriage dropped us off about… Somewhere…"

An abrupt wave of dizziness moved over her like a strong ocean wave. It resulted in her heavily sitting down on the wooden bench. In an instant John's head whirled around only to see Pocahontas's tired expression.

He ignored her protest as he signaled Storm to start moving. The cart jostled down the road, Pocahontas's energy going from protesting to just trying to hold onto the side of the cart. The captain's driving did nothing to settle the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"Are you not going a bit fast?!"

Despite the wind his teasing tone reached her ears, "Where is your sense of adventure?"

"This is not funny! You could run over someone else. I also do not appreciate being mocked and…"

'Did I fall that hard? Did I lose that much blood?'

She thought as she shook her head. Immediately the lightheadedness struck, her uninjured hand clutching the bench to keep her from toppling.

At some point later, John Smith was thankfully forced to slow down as a crowd of people were up ahead. After catching her breath, Pocahontas leaned forward to try and see who all were milling about the road.

"I do not see John Rolfe anywhere," she commented, "He must be worried frantic about me!"

There was a pause as more space allowed John to move the cart farther down the street, "Once you are situated I will go and find him."

"If you would have just dropped me at his home this would not even be an issue," Pocahontas retorted, "Really, a friend of yours? Mrs. Jenkins is just as capable if not more so than your friend."

The captain did not reply as he sped up again although to the native's relief it was not as hurried. It did not take long for them to pull up to a square squat house. Though not on a busy road, noise could still be heard from the places they had left. A sudden movement from a window startled her as John Smith landed on the ground.

"Rolfe's estate is far off from here and you are in no condition to be hassled along for an extended amount of time. I drove quickly here now so you would not have to endure it later."

With those words spoken, Captain John Smith turned and walked up the short drive towards the door. Swallowing hard, Pocahontas eased herself off the hard surface and cautiously placed both feet where Smith had been standing. A sweet odor wafted from somewhere as she followed the path up to the house whilst John knocked.

The couple waited.

John Smith knocked again.

There was still no answer from the walls within the structure.

Just as John was about to knock a third time the door briskly opened.

It revealed a tall lanky woman. Her golden hair piled high on her head, blue eyes assessing before a warm smile lit her face.

"John Smith?"

Those were the only two words Pocahontas understood. The woman launched into a strange language, her hands wildly moving about as if trying to emphasize a point. Leaning against the wall found her looking in surprise as John replied in the same language. His gaze flicked to her and then back to whom he was speaking as a man's voice from somewhere within the house called out.

"Ansgar is here," the woman began in a thick accent, "He helps you with hand. My name is Eva. Ansgar is my… I am Ansgar wife."

"Thank you," Pocahontas softly replied as she was ushered inside. A cot leaned against the wall in the back, Eva gently steering her towards it. Sitting down, Eva knelt and started to undo Pocahontas's shoes.

"No, no no I am fine… You do not have.-"

Her eyes looked up to see John approaching Eva, saying something in the language. Eva nodded before continuing her task.

"Let her," John stated, "You will be more comfortable."

"What is going on?"

"Ansgar will help you and Eva will look after you."

"Where are you going?!"

She could not help the slight alarm in her voice as Ansgar moved a small table beside the cot.

"I thought you wished for me to go and find your fiancé?"

"What?! Leave me here?! I do not.-"

"I will stay then," John said as he brought a chair over and Ansgar motioned to see Pocahontas's hand, "I thought you wanted me to find him."

"You would leave me with complete strangers?"

"I know them," John defended, "They are the most trustworthy couple in London."

"What?"

"In my circle anyhow," Smith responded as he moved closer towards the table. Ansgar said something and John reached for Pocahontas's arm.

"I am going to hold your arm still. Hopefully this will not take long."

"It is fine, I can hold.-"

"No, you will not be able.-"

They were cut off by a loud pounding at the door and a frantic voice on the other side. Eva bolted towards the exit, yanking it open as a young boy stumbled at her feet.

"Günter!"

A string of words mixed with sobs, Ansgar nodding, Eva grabbing a satchel and her dashing out the door only took mere moments before it was the three of them.

"Günter's mother is in labor," John explained as he carefully leaned on her forearm atop the table, "Eva is a midwife."

"Can we just… Just do this?"

She never liked getting checked up on. Even in her village, she would always brush off whatever the problem would be. She would get it fixed herself or ask Nakoma to do it. Now surrounded by a total stranger and a man she thought she knew; Pocahontas could feel the trepidation amplify in her soul.

-..- "End of Chapter 1."-…-