After Ever After

Chapter Six

Pocahontas' House

Saturday Morning

She stood before the morning sun, damp and chilly, watching the world around her come to life. Squirrels chased each other in the grass; blue jays soared high above the trees, the leaves of the sycamore danced in the brisk morning air. Her hands clutched her towel tighter as the wind brushed against her copper skin. Her hair--long, dark, and lustrous--fell like a waterfall down her back, dripping beads of water onto the ground.

She enjoyed moments like this; being alone. She found the silence of the forest soothing. It was the only time she felt she could be herself without having to ask permission. She could think, but most importantly, she could listen.

"Pocahontas," a strong, stern voice came from behind her.

Pocahontas pulled herself away from her special place, turning to look at her boyfriend. She smiled faintly at him. "Good morning Kocoum."

"Good morning," he stepped out onto the patio draping a fleece robe over Pocahontas's

shoulders. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," she replied flatly.

"You couldn't think with your clothes on?" He chastised her, slipping her arms into the robe's sleeves, tying the sash tight around her waist. Taking hold of her forearm, Kocoum led her back into the house. "Come on inside before someone sees you."

Pocahontas glanced over her shoulder at the spot where she once stood. She'd have to put off her moment of peace for another time.

Kocoum sat Pocahontas in one of the two chairs at the kitchen table. In front of her sat a multi-grain bagel with cream cheese, lox, and spinach leaves. She cocked an eyebrow up at him. "What's this?"

"Breakfast," he stated like he was so proud. "I made it myself."

Pocahontas looked back down at the poorly made sandwich. The bagel was burnt to a hard crisp, there was too much lox, not enough cream cheese, and spinach had begun to wilt. This looked nothing like the breakfasts that she'd make for him. Where was the pretty table setting? Where was the fresh squeezed orange juice? Where was the French toast and cup of fruit? Where was the time and effort in this sorry ass excuse for breakfast? The familiar feeling of disappointment washed over her as she nudged the plate away from her. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something." He pushed the dish back towards her.

"I'm not hungry," she repeated.

Kocoum rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "You know most women would be happy that their boyfriend made them breakfast."

"It only took you two minutes to make."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Pocahontas got up from the table, exiting the kitchen. She hated when he tried to control her or make her feel guilty. Between him and her father, she was close to losing her mind. Why couldn't she just be and do what she wanted?

Pocahontas dressed in her running shorts and sports bra, slid her feet into her sneakers, and styled her long mane into a somewhat manageable ponytail. She couldn't stay in the house for another second--not while he was there at least.

"Where are you going now?" asked an irritated Kocoum, leaning on the door frame.

"For a run, I need some air."

"You were just outside."

"Well I need some more air," Pocahontas brushed past him taking long, brisk steps to the door. Kocoum called for her, but she ignored him.

Once her feet hit the ground, she took off running, disappearing into the trees. She quickly found a familiar dirt trail, using it as a guide while her long legs sprinted further and further into the woods at a dizzying pace. Her mind wandered just as fast.

Two years. Two years they've been together and for what? For whose benefit? Certainly not hers. Sure, Pocahontas cared for Kocoum, she cared for him deeply. However, he had a way of sucking the life out of anything and everything around him. Would rarely crack a smile; never broke out of his militant demeanor. He remained forever serious, cautious, ready to attack if need be. Everything was a potential danger to him. He didn't enjoy the adventures life had to offer, but she did. Their relationship felt more like an obligation than anything else. Pocahontas's father had introduced them after returning home from a war overseas. He had spoken highly of Pocahontas to Kocoum and felt that the strong, brave, young general was exactly what his high-spirited daughter needed. According to her father, Kocoum could provide her with a more stable lifestyle. 'You are going to have to settle down one day' he told her.

But why with Kocoum? Why couldn't she pick whom she wanted to settle down with and when? Why did it have to be right now?

The muscles in Pocahontas's calves started to burn, but she hardly noticed. Her head was in a completely different place.

What bothered her most about Kocoum was that he always felt the need to protect her from everything. He was way beyond an overprotective boyfriend; smothering was more accurate. She wasn't some poor defenseless creature, she knew how to take care of herself, but he certainly didn't seem to think so.

No one did.

Finally reaching the edge of the cliff, Pocahontas slowed her furious running. A few strands of her hair had come undone from her elastic band, blowing around her face with the light breeze. She bent forward, resting her hands atop her knees, trying to cease her heart from beating out of her chest. This façade wasn't going to last. She didn't want to disappoint her father, but she didn't want to be dishonest either.

A strong wind from the river below caught her attention. She could hear voices out in the distance, shouting at one another. Enormous white sails floated in the sky like clouds while they carried the large, metal vessel into port.

"A boat," she whispered.

*******************************************************************

Mickey General Hospital

Phillip rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes as he waited for the coffee machine to spew out the same sludge he'd been drinking for 14 weeks. Some days, when his hope was high, he went to the local coffee shop a few blocks over to get something actually worth drinking. But lately, his hope had been at an all time low, so he couldn't bring himself to do even that.

He trudged back to the all-too-familiar room on the third floor and sat in the ever-uncomfortable wooden chair by her bedside. He took a swig of the tepid coffee but didn't even cringe at the bad flavor. Nothing about this placed surprised or phased him anymore.

He took her soft hand in his and placed a kiss on her wrist, the ache in his heart growing with every minute he watched her sleep. That's all she'd been doing for over three months now, and it was killing him.

Her doctors kept telling him to stay positive. People have awoken and fully recovered from comas that lasted decades. As long as she stays in the ICU, where they can keep her stable, there's hope. But some days...some days, hope was hard.

He just wanted her to wake up.

His beautiful Aurora Rose.

A/N: Credit to artbyjody on Tumblr for the chapter artwork.

If you like this story so far, bring a smile to my face by voting for this chapter!