Don't own the Characters.

A.N: Lately I've been repeating the phrase Pocahontas II doesn't exist for me. But then… why not? I can just ignore the ending. Make my own… that's why fanfiction exists right?

My comfortable, large apartment seemed dark and stuffy. The light coming through the wide windows was dull. The world was spinning, or was it just my head?

A question everywhere around me; Why him? What did I do wrong? Something broke in my hand; I realized it was the glass with the whiskey I was drinking. Ignoring the pain, the shivers of glass and the spilled whiskey on the floor. I grabbed some paper and a pen. It wasn't over yet.

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The ship was tied but it was slightly moving cause of the small waves. I was sitting on bow, hearing the whispers of the sea and the wind but my mind was restless. We wouldn't leave for some days but I liked the silence this place offered me.

I've listened to the voices of the wind before I made my choice. Returning to my people was the right thing to do; But leaving Smith? I've made him see the beauty of my land and love it almost as much as I did.

I let the smell of the salted water penetrate me and clear the doubts. I closed my eyes and pictures from my land flooded my mind. Grandma Willow, my father, the great river where first met John Smith. Buried memories fought their way back to the surface preventing me from thinking anything else.

"Pocahontas" a familiar voice said behind me. I turned startled, there were only few people that still pronounced my name without putting in front of it the title "miss".

Thomas was one of them. The young boy who killed Kocoum had changed over the months. He was matured now, and more serious than I remembered. I smiled but his expression remained unchanged.

"John isn't well, Pocahontas." He said while breathing deeply.

"He's sick?" I asked concerned, remembering our last meeting when we decided that we should be just friends.

"No physically he's fine. The problem is here…" he said and touched his chest.

"His soul?" I asked.

"His heart" He corrected. "Read this and you'll understand"

He handed me a wet paper that had a weird, sweet but heavy, smell and then left.

I opened it carefully and started reading the small black letters.

My Dearest, Pocahontas,

I spent days trying to accept the decision we made. I'm not a man used in giving up, but I honestly tried for you. I understand that you think that you love him, besides that's the reason I tried to stay away, but how can you? Even with all his riches and all his houses. He doesn't know who you are, he won't last at your land and most importantly he won't love your land as much as he loves England.

When I returned to home to be cured, everything here seemed foreign to me. The big houses, the streets, the city. I had plans to return on my own, steal a ship and come back to you. But everyone was chasing me.

I'm sorry that I lied to you before… sorry that I made you believe I could bear loosing you. But I'm planning on fighting for you. Don't be afraid, this war isn't like the one you are trying to prevent. There won't be killings in this war.

As for the war I motioned before… If you take me back, Pocahontas, I'll come with you and get killed if needed, to save you and your people.

We were made for each other. I felt it when I first touched your hand. Remember? I still visualize the days I spent with you in the New World. Sometimes I'm catching myself wishing that bullet had truly killed me, so wouldn't live to see you with him.

Remember Pocahontas. You loved me…

John SMITH

My fingers touched his letters, my heartbeat was increasing, and the wind blew and brought the smell of the trees and river close to me. How was that possible? There were no trees nearby, nor river. In my head I could see my self, sitting in my canoe and John offering his hand to help me get out. When I took it the wind of the forest blew, exactly like it did now showing me that it was right.

I felt my hair dancing with the familiar wind. I heard its voice whispering to my ear. I've got it wrong before but now everything was amazingly clear.

A.N: Yeah, sorry I just love John Smith :)

I know GRAMMAR MISTAKES…

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