Summary: "What pain? I've had worse pain than this." It was somewhat truthful. What was worse than the pain from his physical injury was the emotional agony he felt knowing he'd have to leave her. Nonetheless… "I just can't think of any right now." JS/P

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my iPod, which is having a temper tantrum since I've been playing too much Pocahontas on it recently.

A/N: A little something that I stumbled upon while reorganizing my writing files. Hope you enjoy. :)

Sweet Sorrow

By guardyanangel

John tried to stifle a groan as his men set him down as gently as possible upon the hard ground. He gazed up at the softly waving leaves of the trees towering above him and wondered if there was any way he could truly bear to leave this beautiful land, with it towering majesty of trees, beautiful, bountiful rivers, and the little crags that dotted the coastline along the vast ocean that separated him from his 'true' motherland- England. He wasn't sure if he could leave the animals he'd encountered there, the men he'd become such friends with, and, most importantly, he wasn't sure if he could truly leave her.

At that point Thomas chose to crouch next to him, quietly informing him that they'd best be on their way. A sudden pulse of emotion- painlovewearinessgrief- caused him to reach out and halt the youth almost immediately.

"No, not yet," he rasped, "She said she'd be here."

And then, as if she had somehow read his thoughts, the quietest of footfalls was heard from the mist, and against the hazy fog about a dozen or so shadows formed and became people- with her leading them.

Again, his heart pulsed with emotion- pain, from the injury, love, overwhelming in her presence, weariness, for the days had taken their toll, and grief, for he knew that one way or another he was leaving her soon. She cautiously set down her basket and began taking slow, measured steps towards him. He smiled at the sight of her, determined not to let her see the anguish building within him, lying without speaking.

She saw through his façade. "Here…" she stated softly, drawing out a small pouch, "It's from Grandmother Willow's bark. It'll help with the pain."

Again, he forced a smile on his face, although he chose to try to deceive her as little as possible through words. "What pain?" he managed, "I've had worse pain than this."

It was somewhat truthful. What was worse than the pain from his physical injury was the emotional agony he felt knowing he'd have to leave her. Nonetheless, he could tell she didn't believe him, so as another wave of pain ripped through his chest he added, "Can't think of any right now, but-"

He cut off as he saw her father approaching them. Powhatan approached him, his eyes kind for one of the first times since Smith had met him.

"You are always welcome among our people. Thank you, my brother," the chief stated, laying his cloak across the injured soldier like a blanket.

The blonde hoped his thanks showed in his eyes, as he could barely find the words to express it at the time. Powhatan seemed to understand.

Out from the shadow of the chief fluttered Flit. The hummingbird flew at Smith, seeming to greet him eagerly. John managed a smile around the pain at the sight of the little bird, "I thought you didn't like strangers."

The bird seemed to laugh in its own way and fluttered away, hovering over Percy and Meeko, who exchanged glances and pulled out a familiar looking jewel.

John could see the surprise and joy in Pocahontas' eyes at the sight, "My mother's necklace!" she exclaimed softly, taking it from the two animals carefully, as though she feared it would be lost once more.

The Englishman turned back to the two animals with a grateful smile on his face. It was good to see her happy, now at this time of such sorrowful parting. He chuckled a little inside when Meeko pulled out what seemed to be a weeks-old biscuit handing it to him, and accepted it. Then, he turned back to the woman he loved, needing to see her face one more time.

And now he saw the same emotions that must be within his eyes reflected in her own, and he simply could not bear to see her in pain, especially not with him at fault. He caressed her cheek gently.

"Come with me," he murmured

She looked surprised. She pulled away slightly to turn to look at her father, who looked at his daughter and her love for a moment before finally saying, "You must choose your own path."

John could see that the words of her father caused her more pain than if Powhatan had flat out told her 'no.' Now, the decision lay on her shoulders. Now, any further pain to them both would be by her hands. He knew that she was thinking as such, and deep in his heart he pleaded to her, Choose me. Choose my path- our path.

But his more logical self knew that choosing their path, the path to England, would not be right for her or her people, and so when she finally whispered, with tears in her eyes: "I am needed here," he had already made his decision.

"Then I'll stay with you." he told her, his voice steady and determined. He would not leave her, by God! He could not leave-

"No. You have to go back."

Desperation tinged his voice, "But I can't leave you." I'll die without you! He did not say it aloud, because he knew he did not need to- she felt the same. He could see it in her eyes.

"You never will," she said, a soft sob in her voice. She leaned close to him, breathing softly, "No matter what happens, I'll always be with you. Forever."

His words, spoken back to him- and now he knew just how anguished she must have felt the night they thought he was to be killed. Now he thought that perhaps death then would have been easier than life now- at least he would have gone with her at his side.

He pushed the thought away- the idea of leaving did not help him- and gently the two of them kissed their final farewell.

I love you. I LOVE you, he thought, hoping that somehow, she heard.

He knew she did, for he could feel her like thoughts within his own heart. He loved her. She loved him. But for the sake of her people and his life, they could not be together. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

They remained holding each other for a moment longer, and they held hands for the longest time possible, before releasing each other with painful finality. He tried his hardest to choke down the tears in his eyes as he saw the anguish that filled hers, and he shut his eyes, biting his lip.

All around him the men offered well-wishes to their parting Captain, and he acknowledged them with the barest of nods, not opening his eyes an inch.

Soon he could feel the rocking water beneath him, and felt himself being carefully lifted onto the ship. But still he did not open his eyes. He could not bear to see her, standing there so small and alone on that beach. He could not bear to see the land he had come to love drifting away until it was nothing but horizon.

Already, he could feel her absence aching like an abscess in his heart. How could she have believed that they would always be together, despite physical distance? How could he have believed that? Life was never so easy.

Then he felt the rush of wind, felt the touch of autumn leaves caress his cheek, and thought that he could- barely, just barely- smell the scent of her in the air. He opened his eyes, lifting his head.

There! Standing in stark contrast with the pink sky- up there, on the cliff! There she stood, just as beautiful and wonderful as she had always been, and then he knew in his heart that the words they had told each other were true- she would always be with him, just as he would always be with her.

He waved his hand in parting, and thought he saw from afar that she returned the gesture. He stared hard at the rock face until it disappeared from his sight, but the image of her on that cliff would always remain in his mind until the end of his days.

They could never be parted, not truly, for in their hearts they were always one.

A/N: Please review if you have time. :)

~Guardy