The last three weeks passed by far too slow. My days consisted of sleeping, eating, and reading, reading, reading. I'd already read through all of my books four times, the stories the only things keeping me from going crazy. And as much as I hated to admit it, my initial excitement for Virginia had faded, leaving me with as much doubt to fill the entire ocean.

And with just cargo boxes and rats to keep my company, my mind was running wild.

What if when I arrived Josie wouldn't let in; I never had a chance to write her about me coming. What if she'd changed in the last time I read one of her letters? Was she hiding secrets between her words like I was? Had Fiona faked my capture yet? Had Mother found out? Did anyone care? What happened to Greg? Was Charlie in tears or already with some other woman?

As days turned into weeks and I grew weaker and weaker questions spiraled through me like a tornado, twisting and churning up my insides until I felt like a pretzel. All I could was sit and wondering what was going on, fighting intense hunger and slipping in and out of sleep, losing track of time and praying I'd make it out alive.

Throughout the first few weeks I desperately missed the comfort of my mother and brother and the friendship that the Shadow Group provided, for as the conditions wrecked my body it also wrecked my mind. Being alone for a month, with only rats and boxes, had my mind growing more absent and paranoid every day. I even had began to miss Sophia believe it or not, but the person I most missed was Greg.

One thought that kept stimulating through my mind constantly was why Greg had done what he'd done. He was my best friend besides Lila, the only man I knew besides Joseph who understood me and knew when I was done or afraid or scared. He was always there to comfort me, to offer a sympathetic ear or a word of advice, to be my friend.

But that was over now, because I apparently didn't know Greg as much as I thought I did.

And as ashamed as I was to admit it, despite returning to Virginia, I was craving for the luxuries I once had. Suddenly the deluxe dinners and comforts of adoration and a soft bed to lie didn't seem so little anymore, and I would've done anything for a lobster or even a blanket. (I was kicking myself for not bringing a pillow with me on the ship).

The space was also deathly freezing, so I always had to wear all of my cardigans, and water constantly dripped from the ceiling making everything wet, and when I ran out of water that's what I relied on to quench my thirst.

The conditions were miserable, and with every passing day I felt my will to live slip. Last month, when I had a full stomach and was just a walk away from a warm home, the idea of getting on the job to return to my hometown seemed exciting, an incredible adventure. But now that I was here, dying of thirst, filthy as a murderer's hands, and thin as a weed all I wanted to do was for this journey to end.

I was a coward; a slimy, ungrateful, coward. And I knew I had to pull myself together, to do what the Shadow Group had ordered me to do, but it was oh so hard. How could I even muster the strength to check the hatch to see if the journey was over, when I was starving to death and growing sicker and sicker? And that's when I began to spiral out of control.

Now all I did was flit between restless sleeps full of nightmares and let the scarlet fever that had festered inside of me slowly kill me. And there came that dark day where death knocked on my door, where I was so close to the afterlife I could feel the life feel my body. I was used to passing out from hunger every once in a while, but now the fever had overtaken me, and with no doctor or strength left in me all I could do was let it run it's course, and that day I passed out every hour.

I didn't have enough strength to sit up, and my hands, so bony my wrists were showing, shook so hard I could barley move them. I was hot and cold at the same time, sometimes screaming in agony as the fever wrecked my system. Then came the hour when death was so close I could almost touch it. My breathing slowed, my eyes closed, and I fell into a sleep full of light that seemed to suck me in.

But then, by some absolute miracle, I woke and was alive. The fever was still inside of me, but I could sit up, and in a few days it was gone, leaving me with an even larger will to live. Because only when you come so close to losing your life do you only realize how much you appreciate it. I needed my life, and the Shadow Group and the colonies needed it too. And I was going to use all of my powers too keep it.

So for the rest of the journey I pulled through, nibbling through my rations and dodging cargo, reading all of my books again and again. I checked the hatch every day, praying for that one faithful day when my nightmare would end.

And finally it did.

On exactly December 1rst, 1776, I awoke from an uneasy sleep to see the hatch wide open and two men stomping down the stairs. Afraid that I would be captured I ducked under a cargo box before they could see me and peeked behind it. I spotted Liam, and swore under my breath, something my Mother would hate me for. I had totally forgotten my promise to Liam, but I would have find a way too break it or my whole journey was pointless "Disgusting day, isn't it?" Liam said, grunting as he grabbed a cargo box.

The second sailorman who I didn't recognize sighed. "Sure is. Now that winters here, it's just going to get worse. The second we're done clearing the ship I'm retreating too the temporary home and drinking some steaming tea." He chuckled, and the two men grabbed boxes in an awkward quiet until Liam let out a bark of laughter.

"What is it?" The first sailorman said, a little too eager to break the silence. Liam wiped some sweat off his brow before grabbing a particular huge box and beckoning him to help. "A stowaway got on the boat and begged me to let her stay down in the cargo. I let her, knowing she'd die down here, and I was right. There's not a trace of her, and I'm not going to bother looking for the body." He said as they struggled with the box, and the second man looked at him, intrigued.

"What would you had done if she'd lived?" He asked, and the Liam let out a disappointed sigh. "When she was bargaining with me she said she was rich and would marry me if she survived, and she was a looker so it's too bad. But if she seemed to be an odd one I'd probably turn her in to the authority's and get some money." He responded, and the first man shook his head and clucked his tongue.

"Too bad." He said, and the two nodded at each other before gripping the box from the bottom and disappearing upstairs. I watched as they went back and forth carrying the boxes, my heart racing with a mixture of anger from their sexist comments and fear at being caught.

I waited until Liam was alone in the bottom of the ship, bending over to grab the last box, and unfortunately grabbed one of the books from my basket and waited until he was turned exactly away from me before chucking it at his head. He ducked with a "whoah!" and I quickly grabbed my basket and the trunk tightly in each hand and made a beeline for the hatch. I scrambled up it as I heard Liam scream "HEY!" but when I emerged I forgot all about being hung and stared at the heart of Virginia, forgetting to breathe.

The port was busy with people, sailors racing across the dock, pulling sails, and hauling parcels, fighting against the cold wind and snowflakes that coated the city. I watched transfixed as a group of men dropped an anchor onto the choppy waves of the sea, and a group of soldiers march through the streets, waving American flags.

Women and children walked among the green grass and trees that surrounded the port, giving lessons or praying in front of statues, while as the sidewalks stretched farther into the city shop owners bargained and marketmen cursed school boys as they raced across the cobblestones surrounding their bazars.

I took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh, beautiful winter air that I hadn't breathed in for so long. I'd survived. I was finally here, finally at my sweet Virginia. Tears came to my eyes and slid down my cheeks, and I let out a sob of joy. Josie always used to say that Virginia came alive with it's people, and I never understood what she meant until now.

As I stood with my hand over my heart, sobbing uncontrollably, I didn't notice Liam creep up behind me and grab my arm. "So you did survive." He said with a crooked grin, his hands curling around my arms and digging into my skin. "Let go of me!" I screeched, desperately trying to get away from him. Liam chuckled darkly and held on harder, now pulling me to a pole in the middle of the ship

. "I think I'll turn you in instead of marrying you. You're a little too feisty for my type," he said, and the comment made me thing of Charlie, and without knowing what I was doing I summoned all of my rage towards the two creeps and kicked Liam's leg and he crumbled to the ground, cursing.

The second sailorman, who had been struggling to push the cargo off the ship, spotted me and dropped his boxes made a beeline for me, but I was already racing down the bridge that led from the boat to the port. My skirts flew behind me, and I held my basket tightly as my feet hit Virginian ground, and I couldn't help but grin in spite of myself as I ran into the bustling city, knowing I was finally home.

I weaved between people, not bothering to say I'm sorry as I bumped into them or pushed them away. I knew the second sailorman was hot on my trail, so when I saw a corner of a store looming in front of me I dodged behind it and cautiously peeked behind me to see the second sailorman asking an old man if he'd spotted a maniac woman holding a basket and a large black trunk.

I laughed in spite of myself and then covered my mouth, a grin spreading across my chapped lips. No one could spoil the fantastic mood I was in; not even King George, who was miles and miles away! The thought made my heart soar, and I did a small twirl of excitement like a little kid, so glad to be back in Virginia at last. I was floating on air, dancing in the clouds.

I watched as the old man shook his head in response to the second sailorman, and with one final attempt of finding me among the hustling streets he ambushed a woman buying carrots, then apologized as she whipped him with her purse and went back to his boat with a look of absolute frustration on his face.

A satisfied grin set on my face, I pulled on all of my old cardigans from my basket to protect me from the hard, bitter cold that wasn't there a month ago, and I decided I was going to find myself a few new clothes and supplies with the money I'd saved so that Josie wouldn't have to lend me any. But I'd have to act fast, for I knew I had to find a carriage to take me to Josie's before nightfall. Even I remembered how hard it was too call for a carriage once night fell.

What an odd concept it was, trying to remember the shops and where to get things. Luckily for me Virginia mostly consisted of acres and acres of farmland, and the city was small and conserved, (besides it's rowdy and boisterous people) so it would be easy to find the shops once I knew where I was going. After a few moments of hard thinking I remembered walking with Mother to find clothes in Lola's Boutique, and I turned to a woman herding her children for directions.

"Excuse me," I said, tapping on her shoulder. "Do you know where Lola's Boutique is?" I asked, and the woman nodded. "Take a left, a right, and then another left and then you'll find it." She said, and I thanked her before following her directions, dodging British soldiers that occupied the streets. There was no way I was being sent back to Virginia right after I'd arrived.

About two minutes later I had turned onto Lola's Boutique, and I walked inside to find it less busy than I remembered. Only a few people milled about, and most of them left without buying anything, which surprised me. Before I'd left Lola's had been the hotspot for clothes, and it was considered a trend to shop there. But that was years ago, and I had so much to catch up on, that it didn't faze me.

Quickly I bought my clothes, (new pairs of unmentionables, two new work dresses, a new frock and apron, and a few pairs of gloves) and then hurried out of the shop, desperate too find a carriage, for as I stepped outside the sun was already disappearing behind the farmlands that outlined the city, washing the buildings and people in a blood red glow.

It was about 4:00 if I had to guess, and I stepped out from the corner of the shop and scanned the streets for a carriage when I spotted one by a pottery shop that I faintly recalled from my childhood. I called out to the man on the horse, and when he saw me he drove his wagon over to me. "Hello M'lady," He said, tipping his hat.

His Virginian accent was so thick I couldn't understand his words but didn't want to seem impolite, so I didn't ask him to repeat them. "Charmed to meet you sir," I said with a curtsy. "I'd like to go to the suburbs of Virginia? My destinations in the Chamaeleon district."

The man didn't respond for a moment and rose an eyebrow at me suspiciously and I wondered what was wrong. Was it my filthy clothes or disgusting hair? No wonder he thought I was a criminal because I was dressed like one. "Anything wrong sir?" I asked, and he gave me a narrowed eye. "Ma'am, yer British accents thicker than King George's head. And I don't give rides to Tory's." He said firmly, and began to lead his horse away when I cried out from him to stop.

"Please sir! I know I sound British, but I am a colonist. I just escaped from Britain, on a ship you see." I pleaded, and he stopped and turned around. He looked me over and I widened my eyes in pity. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand, beckoning me towards him. "Git in the wagon," he ordered, and I thanked him before jumping in, and with that we were off. The wagon was definitely not as comfy as I was used too; in fact my whole body felt stiff and uncomfortable the whole ride, and I was pretty sure places I didn't want to explain were full of splinters, but anything was better than the boat.

My earlier nerves and worries increased as we got closer to Josie's district. I recognized the farmland and ponds and tiny woodlands that led to her house, and when the wagon turned into the neighborhood, I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from crying.

The willow tree was still there, and even though it wasn't as beautiful as it was the last time I saw it it was still more gorgeous than any oak tree in England. The corn fields still remained tall and swaying in the wind, the bullfrogs still sang from the creek, and the houses still stood tall and sturdy, their winding driveways overgrown and covered with ivy.

Everywhere I looked a new memory came washing over me in beautiful colors, so sweet I longed to relive them again. The church was still across from the school, where to my delight children still walked home from, as if a war wasn't really happening and the world was at peace. So caught up in my surroundings I didn't notice that we had arrived at Josie's house. The wagon driver tilted his hat to me, helped me down, and then took off in a hurry to get home before the soldiers came out, leaving me alone in front of the one place I'd been pining for so much.

I stood at the doorway for a while, trying to muster enough courage to knock, when I finally marched up to the door and knocked with shaky hands. The time period between waiting for someone to answer and seeing Josie approach the door slowly from the open window felt like centuries; and the next thing I knew I was sobbing and hugging Josie, ignoring the look of complete, utter shock on her face.

"Rose is that you?" She asked, her voice full of bewilderment. "Yes-" I choked out, hugging her once more. "I'm back."