James feared for his life the moment his feet touched the deck.

The night around him closed in, pitch black. He crinkled his nose at the condition of the Encantador's deck. It was a pig stye in comparison to the Fina's clean-swept surfaces and well kept glistening state. But then again, what else could he expect from these barbarians? They had no honor.

He knew what he was doing was stupid. Idiotic. Dangerous. Yes, yes, all of that. But he couldn't turn back now.

James was all alone on the Encantador's deck. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, so loudly that he worried it might wake the sleeping pirates below.

His lifeboat was tethered to a rope hanging from the ship's side beneath him. When the winds had begun to lull, he'd jumped on the opportunity. The Encantador came within their sights. Now, his men slept untroubled on the Fina while James tiptoed across the deck, avoiding stray shards of glance and looking out for guards.

Getting Olivia and Heath out of captivity, he knew, would be impossible. He would be lucky if he could even get below deck without being caught, let alone return with two hostages in tow. This he knew, but that didn't stop him from slipping through the night in pursuit of his crewmates.

He allowed himself a breath of relief once he reached the door to the stairs. Trying to regain control of his heartbeat, he paused, hand on the doorknob. This was a bad idea. The door was bound to creak.

Deep breath. Open.

Biting his lip, he glanced behind him. There was a knocking noise, something hollow and haunting. It took a him a minute to realize it was the sound of the lifeboat clanking against the Encantador. He took a deep breath and began down the stairs, not daring to breath again until he was at the bottom.

Now, he could hear pirates snoring. He closed his hand around his sword.

Fortunately, he knew where the prisoner's cell was. Well, unfortunately, he supposed. The circumstances under which he'd come to find this knowledge hadn't been desirable.

Unlike the Fina's crew who slept in the hall (save the captain, first mate and select few) Araya's crew kept the corridors clear sleeping behind locked doors in large, dirty cabins. Even so, James slipped off his shoes and carried them before padding down the wooden hall toward the cell.

He pictured his men back on the ship, slumbering uneventfully through the night. He envied them, but this was something he had to do.

Had to do. He repeated the phrase in his head. He didn't, in any way, have to do this. In fact, this was quite ill advised and would reap no reward. However, he felt compelled to be here in a way he hadn't felt since, well, since . . .

He shut down the thought. No, don't think about Jesse. No time.

After a good mental pinch, he sprung forward, running in silent strides down the hall. He took the first right, leading to a danker, grayer part of the ship.

His heart beat faster as he passed door after door, counting in his head. Six, seven, eight . . .

Nine.

There were two different doors in front of this opening. The first was made of steel bars with a thick padlock across it. The second was a wooden door, clad with a more meager lock that James didn't hesitate to squat down and pick with the knife in his boot.

It folded easily, dropping to the ground with a cringe-inducing clatter when it rang against the steel bars of the door in front of it. He sucked in his breath, giving the door a gentle push through the bars. It creaked open, painfully slowly.

He couldn't see anything inside. It was too dark.

Suddenly, the door opened all the way. James jumped back, hand flying to his sword until he realized that it was only Heath standing behind the bars with an ambivalent surprised and angry face.

"Jesus, you scared me," she growled without so much as a 'hello'. "What're you doing?"

He squinted at her. Shouldn't she be more happy to see me? "Heath. It's me, James."

Rolling her eyes, she pressed her forehead to the bar in front of her. "No duh. I thought you were Henry the eighth."

She looked even more battle-hardened than the last time James had seen her. Her eyes flashed with anger and pain. A few stray pieces of hair hung limp around her face, while most of it was tied up in her bandanna, which had grown gray and grubby.

James stood up. Pressed his forehead to the bar as well. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

"You idiot." She scowled at him, her voice a quiet hiss in the silence of the hall. "They're going to catch you! We're only going to be in more trouble. You're putting me and Liv in danger by being here."

Liv. James had to smile. So Heath was calling her by her nickname, now? That was a good sign. If those two were going to be trapped here, at least they had each other. "I know," he agreed. "I just . . . I couldn't help it. I know I can't get you guys out of here t'night, but I needed to see you."

Heath snorted, letting out a small chuckle when he flinched at the loud noise. "You didn't need to see us."

"You know what I mean."

She rolled her eyes, but replied, "Yeah, I guess."

James looked both ways. Was Olivia in there, or in a separate room? Whatever, he figured. She was bound to find out at some point. He leaned closer and whispered, "I can't stop thinking about Jesse."

A shadow clouded Heath's face. But she didn't withdraw like James had anticipated her doing. Instead, she looked him in the eye and said, "This isn't the same thing, James."

Hearing her say his name was rare. He looked back at her, trying to keep tears out of his eyes. "It is. I loved her, but I couldn't save her--"

"James," she snapped, sounding like a stern mother trying to get her distracted son's attention. "Jesse was a baby. Olivia and I are grown women. We aren't your responsibility."

This just made the knot of guilt in his chest clench tighter. Jesse was his responsibility. "Heather," he sighed, letting her full name rest in the air for a second before continuing. "The Cubans have taken everything from me: my childhood, my parents, even my own -- our own daughter. I'm not going to let them take you guys too."

Heath nodded, glancing behind her. She looked back at him, leaning against the bars with resignation. She sighed. "You really love her, don't you?"

James felt another pang of guilt. When Jesse was born, he had told himself he would learn to love Heather. That they would be happy together with their child. Then that chance at happiness had been stolen from them. Heath didn't deserve his rejection any more than Jesse had deserved her fate. Still, he had to tell the truth. "Yeah," he sigh. "I do."

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then, she looked behind her again. "Some bad things happened tonight . . ."

James's heart rate picked up again. "What happened?"

"Well . . . Liv started swearing at one of the crewmen and it started this whole big riot with the crew. They were throwing beer bottles and cussing us out in spanish and everything. Captain Araya was getting all up in her face. He grabbed her by the hair and started dragging her away, but this deckhand kid, Robin, attacked him. They got into a brawl, but I didn't see the outcome because I got knocked out. Brick to the head." She pointed at the still bloody gash above her eyebrow. "I woke up back here. Olivia's over there. Breathing, but totally out cold." Heath gave James a worried look, saying, "I'm worried. I don't know what they did to her."

His stomach churned with a mixture of anger, guilt and anxiety. He couldn't stay much longer. James bit his lip. "Hey, maybe don't tell her I came by. That'll just upset her more."

Heath nodded her agreement. "She misses you, though. I can tell."

James's stomach prickled with shame. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving here without her, let alone going home without even seeing her. Still, he knew this was the best course of action. He placed a kiss on Heath's forehead through the bars and reach into his boot. Pulling out the pocket knife he'd used to pick the lock, he handed it to her. "We'll be back soon to rescue you."

She sighed. "How soon?"

"I don't know. We need time to recuperate."

"Come visit again sometime." She reached for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before stepping away from the bars. "Bye, now." She shut the door, leaving James feeling lonely and guilty as sin.