Dear Olivia,

I miss you more than ever today.

You're right beside me, yet the lengths at which I miss you are far from anything I've ever felt. You won't speak to me, you won't touch me. You won't even look at me. Where are you, Livia?

We are still on course for Sweden. Heath's captaining the ship right now, and I'm acting as her first mate. Bill's been a big help as well.

Everyone's really worried about you, Livi. We don't know what to do, now that you're awake but practically dead. Morphie doesn't know how to make you eat, nor does he have access to an IV. So instead, you're just wasting away right before my eyes.

I don't understand. You were perfectly fine just two days ago. Morphie says you're probably just discouraged, but I don't think so. You know that was a victory, Livia. Your wound isn't what you're upset about.

Is it me? Should I leave? I would if you asked me to, but you haven't opened your mouth since the stitches.

Speaking of stitches, they're coming out. The wound's getting all swollen and puffy, and the thread is unraveling from your skin as I speak. Morphie will redo it within the next hour.

Morphie, Morphie, Morphie. Such trust we have to put in this little drug addict of ours. There's nothing I can do. Morphie's the only one who can save you, now.

The men are treating him like royalty, which isn't good for your cause, let me tell you. Too much rum, not enough sleep. I'm not sure that's the man I want operating on you, mi amor. But then, who else can take his place?

Freddy has just arrived down in this godforsaken infirmary. He comes to sing for all the sick, but mostly for you. Still, you don't respond.

Could I even make you flinch, Livia? Would you bat an eye if I went into cardiac arrest at this very moment? If I shouted "Fire!"? If I kissed you? Would you even look at me?

If we keep up like this, I will go into cardiac arrest. You wouldn't believe how stressful this is for me, Livi. I need you to get better. You're supposed to be the strong one.

        I love you,

                   -Robin

XXX

Caelum didn't remember how to breathe.

In, out. Simple. Yet his lungs acted as though they'd never inflated before. They stayed flat in his chest like ripped balloons, refusing to support his body.

Sinking to the ground, Cae tried to catch his breath. Panic consumed him -- would he die here? Was he having a heart attack? He hit the deck hard, choking from lack of air.

"Whoa, there," said a voice above him.

Cae gasped for breath, spots dancing in his eyes. Help, he wanted to say, but he couldn't spare the oxygen.

Robin squatted down in front of him, shaking his shoulders. "We have to go now. Caelum? Cae? What is it?"

He put his hands to his neck, the choking signal. Robin gave a knowing nod.

"Panic attack, I would bet," the pirate said. "Here, take my hand." Caelum, too freaked to disobey, clasped the man's hand in his, head feeling light and detached. "Now," said Robin, "one breath in. Come on. That's it."

He put his hand on Cae's back, pressing on his spine. Somehow, this seemed to release whatever was blocking his lungs. Sputtering for more of that lovely, sweet air, Caelum tilted over to his hands and knees. Thank god. He'd thought he was dying.

Coughing, he said, "Thanks, man."

Robin stood, frowning. "No hay de que," he said. "Caelum?"

"Hm?" Another cough and a gasp.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here? Panic attacks are no big deal, but if you have one in the middle of a fight . . ." Robin drew a line across his neck with his finger, brown eyes rimmed with worry.

Cae knew he was right. In this state, how could he say he'd be ready to fight? Even so, he couldn't bear to think of Heather on that ship, scared and alone, without him. He set his mouth in a grim line. "I'm going."

"Okay." Robin shrugged.

Caelum looked him over, taking in the captain's deep blue suit and sequined mask. He'd shaved and cut his hair. When he pulled the mask over his eyes, he became unrecognizable. He peered at Caelum through the holes in the mask, lips frowning.

"You do look awfully pale," he said.

Cae returned his frown. "Whatever. I just need some water and we can get going."

Though reluctantly, Robin agreed. The two men rushed back out to the deck where the rest of the crew congregated, Caelum holding a glass of rum (the closest beverage on hand) and Robin waving his sword. The crew met his appearance with a wave of cheers.

"Men!" Robin called, bringing silence over the deck. "We have almost reached the coast of Cuba. We shall drop our anchors and take the rowboats to The Encantador. Six crews, we need, and six captains. Volunteers?"

Within five minutes six clumps of men stood grouped together, Caelum crouched in Robin's crew. He didn't know how much help he'd be, but he certainly didn't want to be separated from the only person he knew in this godforsaken place.

So off they went to the ball.