Birds of a Feather
The Curse of the Black Pearl
Chapter Twenty-Four
You Came For Me
Mermaid anatomy is a truly fascinating subject. An amalgamation of human and fish, yet somehow a simply stunning product. Their body was designed for two things: seduction and killing.
Even when in shore form – their term for the human body they had out of the water – a mermaid's teeth and nails are sharper than a human's. Their eyes perceive things clearer, more microscopically, and richer in colour than a human's. Their ears can hear the scuff of a chair against the floor three houses down the road. And their noses have the smell capacity of a bloodhound, though the smell of blood could draw them a hundred leagues.
An oddity of mermaids is how they breathe depends not on whether they are in shore form, natural form, or hunting form – the Mermaid term for Full Siren. How a mermaid breathes is relative to the position of their head in conjunction to the water. If their head is underwater, they would breathe through gills that are well hidden on the base of the spine where skin turned to tail. If their head is above water, they would breathe through their mouth.
It was said that a mermaid would always give an open-mouthed smile because it was always ready to eat a man. That was both true and false: they did give open-mouthed smiles and they were always ready to consume a man. The falsehood was the reason they always gave an open-mouthed smile. The reason was if their head was above water they breathed only through their mouth. That hyper sensitive nose was not able to interchange oxygen and carbon dioxide through the lungs.
So when Twigg and Koehler chained Syrena so her head was above water and her mouth was filled with a greasy bandana and gag, she began to panic. In a moment her objective turned from protecting herself and Philip to simply the basic life requirement of breathing.
She clawed, fought, and desperately tried to get free, but she was in a panic and her frantic actions did little. Unfortunately, when one is in such a distressed state of mind, one tends to hyperventilate and that's exactly what Syrena did. Her lungs switched into survival mode, she panted raggedly, wasting that precious bit of oxygen that could reach her.
Syrena didn't think, her body just acted on instinct. When the air flow became too restricted, subconsciously she opened her jaw wider for a deep breath.
That was a mistake.
The sudden inhalation of breath moved Twigg's bandana back with the air flow, and it lodged itself into her throat.
Syrena gasped – at least as much as she could – and in a millisecond everything changed. Her face reddened and eyes bulged as she choked on the bandana. Her body fought to save her life: coughing, gasping, choking to dislodge the fabric. It was to no avail, even the attempt to use her tongue only resulted in pushing it further back. So there she laid in the water, gasping and thrashing her tail, fighting to stay alive, and praying to both the Mother Goddess and the God of Philip that she would survive this to see his face again.
I don't think it will be much of a shock when I tell you that within minutes, Syrena passed out.
She was left alone in that deep dark cave, that cold and lonely pool, arms chained to the wall, away from anyone who would love her, care for her, save her…
…And she wasn't breathing.
When Barbossa saw Twigg and Koehler enter the cave alone, behind everyone, he knew something was wrong. And very likely that wrong thing would involve Syrena.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Barbossa couldn't just leave it up to chance that his daughter would be okay in her escape. At the same time, he couldn't leave the pirates to go check that Syrena was okay.
But there was someone who could.
"Jack?" Barbossa looked to the monkey on his shoulder. "Go to Syrena. Make sure she's safe."
Jack squealed and hopped off Barbossa onto a stack of gold. There was a series of clinks and chinks of paws jumping from stacks of gold and jewels to stacks of gold and jewels. Barbossa's eyes followed the little creature until he reached the entrance of the grotto.
Then the monkey disappeared into the darkness of the caves, and Barbossa knew his daughter would be safe.
He just didn't know if he'd ever see her again.
To say Ragetti and Pintel weren't subtle about the fact they were going to assist Philip in escaping with Syrena would be an understatement. The attitude and obviousness of the situation was summed up by one simple fact:
"So you're not going to even restrain me in the slightest?"
Philip stared at the duo as they sorted through the piles of treasure in an abandoned corridor. They held up clothing against their bodies and used their spit to shine the surface of golden platters, cups, and whatever else you could imagine. Every now and then they would perk up at a piece and throw it into a large sack. Philip suspected that it was for the duo as them sectioning up their haul, had Ragetti not held up a plum coloured dress and asked Pintel if Fins would like it.
"There's really no point in it," Ragetti's good eye ran over the fine detail of a silk fan. He flicked it open and smiled at the intricate artistry of a dragon and phoenix intertwined. Ragetti smiled and threw it in the sack. "I think even the Captain knows we don't plan on actually holding you hostage."
"You don't?" Philip crossed his arms, not really sure why he was arguing the point.
"Just so long as you don't try to make a run to save Bootstrap Junior," Pintel threw a brown, weathered dairy with a large ruby stuck on the cover into the sack. "Otherwise, basically you're free to go. I say just give it another five minutes so it doesn't look so suspicious."
"If you think that I'm not going to try to save my best friend-"
"Oh come off it!" Pintel threw down a strand of pearls that once hung around the neck of a princess of Bavaria. "You really think you can charge in there by yourself and take on the crew of the Black Pearl? You? Be realistic, Man! Our crew is terrifying, you won't win. So just take this sack of treasure, go to Fins, get the two of you off this rock, and go live happily ever after away from this whole mess."
"Happily ever after?"
"Yeah. Get our girl out of here, go find some peaceful corner of the world where there is lots of water to swim around in and no curses nearby, settle down, have some little Mer-Swifts, and live in peace!"
"Just make sure the two of you write us every now and then," Ragetti said. "I want to make sure our Fins gets her happily ever after."
Philip once more stared at the pair in utter amazement.
"Okay, first off, would you two even have a fixed address we could write to?" Now Philip was amazed at himself for picking that as his first point of all things. "Second, I will not leave Will!"
He was knocked off his feet by a sack of treasure being shoved into his arms.
"Dead men tell no tales, Boy," Pintel said gravely, "and that's all you'll become if you try to save your friends. Face the facts, Turner's a dead man. Now you came all this way to save your cousin. You've done that. And Turner? Turner's saved the woman he loves."
Philip shook his head, "Oh for goodness- How do you see that so quickly but it took Elizabeth ten years and someone outright telling her to figure it out?"
"Can we focus?" Pintel asked.
"Sorry."
"Good. Now, Turner's saved the woman he loves. That's what he wants. He's like his mother that way, fiercely protective of the ones she loved-"
"That's why she always looked out for me," Ragetti cut in.
Pintel rolled his eyes, "Lord save me."
"She did care for me! I swear it!"
"And I'm not leaving Will behind!" Philip snapped.
Pintel pulled out a pair of pistols from his belt, cocked them, and pointed one at each of the men.
"Next one who interrupts me while I'm trying to explain something goes to see Sarah Smith in Davy Jones' Locker to bother and interrupt her!"
Though Ragetti knew he was probably still cursed, he thought it best to fall silent like Philip.
"That's better," Pintel holstered his pistols. "Now… as I was saying, Turner has saved the woman he loves, now it's time to save the woman you love, Swift."
"Save her?" Philip frowned. "From what?"
Ragetti and Pintel shared a look over Philip not objecting to the accusation of love.
"From Twigg and Koehler," Pintel simply said.
That shut Philip up. No, he didn't need an explanation for what they'd do to Syrena. Three of the four times they'd attacked Philip had proven that – the time in Fort Charles was before Philip got into the whole mess with the mermaid.
"You know what they want of her," Ragetti said quietly. "But you don't know to what lengths they'll go."
Philip gently touched his burn mark, "I have some idea."
"No, you don't," Ragetti gravely shook his head. "Pirates aren't heroes but… but some of us…"
"Bootstrap was right," Pintel said. "We deserve to be cursed, and maybe some of us deserve to remain cursed."
"I don't want to see what they'll do to Fins. Please, Mister Swift…" If Ragetti had a hat, it would be in his hands, "Please protect our girl."
Philip sighed, "But what about Will?"
Ragetti and Pintel exchanged a look.
"How'd you get caught by us in the first place?" Ragetti asked.
Philip thought back to the moment he had been reunited with Elizabeth, "I told Will to take Elizabeth – the woman who loved – to safety, and I'd be willing to stay behind and die for my friends."
"Would he want to repay that favor? Make that same sacrifice?"
Fighting back tears, Philip balled his fist and thought of his friend.
"You're not serious, Philip," Elizabeth gaped at him. "You can't fight them off."
"She's right," Will agreed. "I would be the better choice."
"No you wouldn't! We all know they're after you, Turner," Philip urged them forward. "I might be able to play the sympathy card with being religious. They'll kill both of you if you stay."
"No, I won't go without you!" Elizabeth's eyes were filled with tears.
"Send Uncle my love," Philip kissed her forehead and looked to Will. "Go! Now!"
Will nodded and pulled Elizabeth into the boat. As Philip helped them push off, the voices of the angry pirates got ever closer.
"I love you both so much," Philip whispered as the boat started to float away. "Protect each other and don't turn back for me."
His last image of Will and Elizabeth was his friend holding Philip's all but in name sister in his strong blacksmith arms, tears glittering in both their eyes.
"He'd want me to go," Philip whispered, fighting back his own tears. "Will would want to make that sacrifice."
Pintel lifted the sack of treasure and pressed it into Philip's arms, "I'm not saying give up the fight forever. There are… miracles I guess. What I am saying is you need to go save Syrena before you save Will. If Turner is anything like his parents, he'll find a way out. Our little Fins doesn't understand the world. She needs someone like you… and I think you need someone like her."
Philip swallowed hard and nodded.
"Go to her," Pintel said softly. "And protect Syrena the way we never could."
"Thank you," Philip whispered. "But how will we ever get anywhere?"
"Take that treasure as Fins' portion of the loot," Pintel nodded to the sack in Philip's arms. "She'll like the stuff in there. Gold, jewels, dresses, and shoes that will fit her just right."
"Don't let her get any splinters," Ragetti interjected.
Pintel didn't scold him.
Philip smiled softly at the duo, "How can I ever thank you?"
Ragetti and Pintel exchanged a look.
"Protect Fins… no matter what."
It was a vow Philip Swift would try his hardest to keep for the rest of his life.
Jack the Monkey ran as fast as he could through the caves of Isla de Muerta. He paused every now at then to let out a screech to call to Syrena. The monkey and the mermaid had a strange bond, the pair connecting over their animal natures. They could hear things and smell things the humans couldn't, and Syrena seemed to understand better than anyone what Jack was trying to tell people.
As he ran through the caves, searching without result, Jack the Monkey started to worry. The screech he made was a special one: one Syrena knew he only made when calling for her. That screech had always been followed by a soft, somewhat musical voice calling back I'm here, Jack.
But his screeches received no reply.
He headed to the longboats, where he had last seen her and gave a loud screech.
Still no reply.
Frantically, Jack hopped between the boats, trying to piece together what had happened. He found the missionary's shirt haphazardly thrown in a longboat which had been stocked with treasure, food, and clothing. There was also his Master's compass and Philip Swift's weapon belt and Bible hidden under a bench.
But there was no sign of Syrena.
Then he noticed it. It was something a person couldn't spot unless they were extremely familiar with the treasures piled up in Isla de Muerta.
Drag marks.
A barely noticeable path had cut through the treasure, coming from the banks where they had left the longboats. There were two small paths like feet dragging on the ground, followed by two sets of footprints.
Jack raced through Isla de Muerta, following the path, screeching out for Syrena as a dark cloud of fear built up in his heart. Then he came upon a pool at the end of the path, and Jack gave a terrifying cry.
Syrena was chained up in the pool, unconscious, and face blue.
She wasn't moving.
Screeching loudly, Jack raced toward Syrena and jumped on her shoulder. Without a second thought, he started to gnaw at the gag around her mouth. It took a while, but Jack finally made through the fabric and he pushed it off into the water.
Then he noticed the bandana shoved in her mouth. Hoping that Syrena wouldn't suddenly wake and instinctively bite down, Jack crawled partway into her mouth and used his hands and teeth to dislodge the bandana and throw it into the water.
Syrena still didn't move.
Jack screeched loudly, pawing at her face, but nothing roused her. He ran up her shoulder, along her arm to start gnawing at and untying the rope that bound her.
Suddenly he stopped. Jack realized that if Syrena wasn't breathing and he released her hands, she would fall into the water. If she wasn't already dead, she would drown.
He jumped on the rocky shore and stared at her.
Syrena needed help. Human help.
So Jack the Monkey turned and ran, desperate to find someone to help his mermaid friend.
"Syrena! Syrena!" Philip called as he raced to the longboats. He stopped, looking around for her, but she was nowhere to be found. "Syrena!"
Then he spotted it, his shirt thrown in a boat with food, clothing, and treasure. Philip raced to the boat and threw Pintel's sack of treasure into it.
He picked up the shirt and whispered to himself, "Syrena, what happened?"
Something was wrong. He didn't need to spot the drag marks to know that.
Philip set the shirt aside, planning to… well, make some sort of plan, when he saw it. His sword belt and father's bible. He put them on without hesitation, but did not know what to do next.
"Lord," he whispered a prayer, "guide me to an answer. To a plan, a strength. Help me find her, protect her… know what I can do to save her."
Then, trusting the Lord, Philip ran a thumb across the little tab stuck to his father's bible, and opened one at random, praying that his father and the Lord guided him to words of wisdom. His eyes fell instantly to one of the Psalms his father had highlighted.
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.
What can mere mortals do to me?
Philip smiled.
"Thank you, Father," he whispered, closing the book. These weren't monsters, they were mortal men, men who would never overcome the judgement of the Lord.
Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
God would not forsake him. God would find a way.
The only question was how?
Philip felt a small tug on his pant leg. He looked down and found Jack the Monkey staring up at him, pulling on his trousers.
Jack screeched at Philip.
Philip lifted his eyes to God, "Unconventional, but thank you nonetheless."
Jack screeched again.
"Okay, what is it?" Philip asked the monkey.
Jack began chattering wildly, but Philip didn't understand a moment of it. He tried his best to keep the scowl from his face, but that was a battle Philip quickly lost.
"Alright, alright!" Philip held up his hands as Jack screeched louder, clearly frustrated. "It's clear we don't understand each other, but you're smart. I'm sure we can find a way to communicate. Can you nod and shake your head in response to questions?"
Jack nodded and shook his head.
"I'll take that as a yes." Philip crouched down and did his best to look the monkey in the eye, "Okay, let's start at the beginning. Are you here because I escaped Ragetti and Pintel?"
Jack shook his head.
"Alright… is this about Syrena?"
Jack shrieked and nodded wildly.
Philip smiled, "Okay, Syrena. You know where she is?"
The monkey chattered and nodded but there was something in the desperate way Jack did it that made Philip nervous.
"Is she in trouble?"
Jack screeched even more dramatically.
"Alright," Philip was surprised to find his hand automatically went for his sword. "Show me where she is."
Jack took off down the corridor. Philip grabbed his abandoned shirt and quite true to his name, followed swiftly.
When they reached Syrena unconscious in the pool, Philip could have sworn that his heart dropped into his stomach.
"No!" he gasped, racing forward.
Philip didn't notice that Jack stayed at the entrance of the grotto, giving Philip the clearance he needed to work.
He dropped to his knees before her, her body not even twitching an inch. No breath came from her lung, no life from her eyes. Her eyes were closed, her face pale with a touch of blue, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly.
Philip didn't understand what had happened until he saw the bandana and gag floating in the pool. His eyes roamed Syrena's bound wrists and saw the tiny bite marks in the rope. He looked over at the Monkey in surprise, his eyes asking a question his lips weren't brave enough for.
Yes, Jack the Monkey nodded at Philip. Yes, Jack had saved her.
Philip vowed to find a way to thank the monkey later, but for now he turned his attention back to the mermaid. He had to find a way to save his… Save his Syrena.
"Syrena," Philip whispered, placing a hand on her cheek. Her skin was ice to touch, as cold as that cube he felt he swallowed the first time he saw her back as a lad of thirteen. He caressed the side of her face, so gently, so lovingly. "No."
He couldn't help but think of the first time he had faced the prospect of death. Philip had been eleven, his cousin, Elizabeth ten. Aunt Katherine had miscarried yet another son, but this one had been worse; this one had finally taken Katherine Skylark to Heaven with him.
While Uncle Weatherby had wept alone with the body of his wife, the children had been pulled by the Swift couple into another room to grieve. Rebecca had held Elizabeth and Nathaniel held Philip as the children wailed hysterically.
As an older man, Philip admittedly did not give his aunt as much thought as Elizabeth gave hers, but that made his bond with Aunt Kat no less special. In some ways, Aunt Kat had been a mother to him. Sure, she dotted on Elizabeth more than Philip, but he was no Cinderfella. Philip loved his Aunt Kat, and screamed almost as loud as Elizabeth when God took Katherine to Heaven.
"It's not wrong to cry, My Son," Nathaniel whispered in Philip's ear. "You cry as much as your heart hurts. The Lord did not give us tears to be ashamed of them; even Jesus wept for Lazarus. But when those tears cease, find joy in knowing that Aunt Kat is safe. God has taken her to a world where she will know no suffering. It doesn't feel fair right now, but God only takes people when it's the right time to take them."
Those words had carried Philip through the death of his parents. They had carried them through any case of death he encountered after Aunt Katherine: his parents, the old footman Mr. Andrews who had been twice Weatherby Swann's age and had welcomed them so warmly to Port Royal when they first called it home. Roger Brinks, a friendly High Society Navy sailor who had been something of a friend to Philip but who been killed in a tragic naval accident two years previous. Agnes Brown, the wife of Mister Brown whose death had led him to start drinking and neglecting Will. Fanny Groves, Theodore Groves' own wife who had died of typhoid fever less than six months ago.
God did not take people to be unfair. He was a generous, merciful, loving God. A man who had indeed wept when faced with the death of Lazarus.
But Syrena would be no Lazarus. Syrena had passed to the Kingdom of Heaven, or at least Philip prayed she would be admitted there.
No, Philip knew in his heart that Syrena – as pagan, demonic, and piratey her beliefs were – would be welcomed into the open arms of the Lord. God had taken her to a world where she would know no suffering. And by Gabriel and all the Angels did Syrena deserve to suffer no more.
Like Nathaniel Swift has said, it didn't feel fair right now, but God only took people when it was the right time to take them.
Philip clenched his jaw as his hand caressed her pale, cold face. This beautiful broken soul, who had only just begun to know love. Just as Philip had only begun to know love.
He loved her. It wasn't fair, but God only took people when it was the right time to take them.
…It wasn't the right time to take her.
"My God," Philip looked up to the Heavens. He did that which he never had ever dreamed of doing. He strongly, proudly, looked God in the eye and challenged the Lord's decision. "You will not take her!"
He hands went for the ropes as he raged against God. He couldn't let this happen. He wouldn't. God had taken Aunt Kat, Father, and Mother, but no. Here Philip drew the line. He would not let God take from him the woman he loved.
"If you have taken her," Philip struggled with the rope, "you will give… her… back!"
The ropes fell to the ground and he grabbed her before she fell in the pool and was lost to the murky abyss.
Then he started to cry.
"Give her back..." he begged God as he gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Nothing mattered to Philip in that moment but hearing Syrena take but just one breath. "Give her back... Please... Please..."
The year was 1739 that Philip Swift held the dying Syrena Barbossa in his arms in the Caribbean and begged God for her life.
During the August of 1767 several citizens of Amsterdam would create the Society for Recovery of Drowned Persons. Some of their ideas of how to save someone not breathing were as important as applying manual pressure to the abdomen and mouth to mouth breaths, while others like bloodletting and using bellows to orally fumigation the throat with tobacco smoke were less effective. But whatever method they came up with to try to resuscitate a person were beyond the reach of Philip Swift in that cave in that moment.
But that didn't mean nothing could be done.
Mermaids had been created by the Mother Goddess, and there was no mermaid who the Mother Goddess watched more carefully than the one who called herself Syrena Barbossa.
Tia Dalma did not need to be present to know what was happening to her beloved mermaid. Though bound in human form, Calypso knew all that happened on her restless seas, and she was connected to every one of her mermaid daughters. So perched in a treetop by the mouth of the Pantano River deep in the island of Cuba, Tia Dalma watched Syrena die.
Calypso was no Goddess of the Future, she did not know what was to come any more than a mortal man. But she knew that this mermaid had something more to her. Syrena was what a mermaid had been created to be, somehow unaffected by the monstrosities Davy Jones had perverted her daughters into.
Tia Dalma did not know what part Syrena had to play in the wars to come… but there was something to her.
She had a touch of destiny.
The faint tinkling melody of silver heart shaped locket filled the cabin. Tia Dalma let the music fill her as she kept her eyes shut, filled with the image of a mermaid and a missionary.
"Give her back," Philip Swift begged. "Please… please…"
She knew what to do. It was Calypso who had made the heart of the very first mermaid beat, and Calypso who had brought breath to the very first mermaid's lungs.
And it was in her power to give that to any mermaid.
"Mmm," Tia Dalma chuckled at the image of Syrena lying still in that pool. "It is not time for you to be lost, Little Daughter."
In her bound form, Calypso did not have all the powers of the sea, but that did not mean she did not have magic. Reduced to nothing but a voodoo witch as the locals called her, she still had the powers to reach, control, and protect her daughter.
So Tia Dalma reached out to the mermaid named Syrena, and gave breath to her lungs.
A touch of destiny.
"Give her back..." he begged God as he gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Nothing mattered to Philip in that moment but hearing Syrena take but just one breath. "Give her back... Please... Please..."
He didn't see, feel, or hear the air that stretched across the Caribbean from Tia Dalma to slip between Syrena's lips into her lungs. Philip only knew that one moment he begged God to save her life.
And the next moment, her eyes fluttered open.
"Philip," she whispered.
Relief flooding into his body in an instant, Philip fell back on his knees and softly began to cry.
"Syrena," he panted, amazed how much he had been holding his breath. She was alive. Syrena was truly alive. He was back leaned forward and caressing her face, dropping his shirt next to him, "I'm sorry, Syrena."
"Philip, you're here!" she turned onto her front.
"Yes."
"You came for me," she honestly couldn't believe it. There was no Twigg, no Koehler. She and Philip were safe and about to escape.
And then she thought about Will Turner, the man who could not escape. The man who was Philip Swift's best friend. The man who Philip should be risking life and limb to save rather than some mermaid.
"Why?" Syrena didn't understand. Yes, she knew that Philip must love her, after her naming and all he had done for her it was quite clear. But to choose her over Will. It made no sense. "Why do you not choose your friend? Why choose a Mermaid over him? After all I've done…"
Philip paused, not knowing what to say, "You're different, are you not?"
She cocked her head to the side.
"You know not of kindness? Compassion?" Philip swallowed. "Love?"
Syrena stared at him for a long time.
"I…" she struggled to find the words. "I think I know of love."
Philip Swift's throat had never felt so dry.
"Come," he grabbed his shirt. "We have to go before Twigg and Koehler-"
She touched his arm, and Philip froze.
"I looked for a man of that in my story," Syrena spoke softly. "An excellent, virtuous man, a person of religion and fidelity and kindness. And then I met you… Philip Swift, I need not search any more. You are kind, strong, compassionate, loyal, and devout. You named me when no other would. Protected me time and time again. When my legs failed while the choice was walk or die, you became my legs. Philip… you asked me to let you know when I had figured it out… I think I have figured it out."
Taking a chance, Philip bowed his head to hers and started to tilt forward, but Syrena drew back. They stopped and just stared into each other's eyes for a long – seemingly endless – moment.
"Philip, I-"
He pressed a finger to her lips. When she fell silent, those wonderous green eyes she had carried with her for ten years burning into her, Philip dropped his hand to her neck.
She touched his face, and Philip was lost in her own beautiful hazel eyes. They were so gentle, so trusting, so full of deep emotion that it made Nathaniel Swift's eyes emotionless.
He couldn't deny it anymore; Philip wanted this woman- No, not woman. Not monster. Not creature. …He wanted this mermaid. He wanted to hold her, love her, protect her, show her all the kindness and compassion of the world that had been robbed from her, and all the adventures promised in her mischievous smile that made his heart pound.
She made his heart pound. Philip Swift, the missionary who once seriously considered swearing his love to the Lord alone. Philip Swift who had been scared away from finding a wife from the tragedies of his parents; aunt and uncle; and best friend and cousin/sister.
Philip wanted to touch Syrena's skin the way she caressed his cheek. He wanted to stare for hours into those gorgeous eyes that forever haunted him. He wanted to make those lips lift in that adorable, mischievous smile.
…He wanted her lips upon his.
Philip Swift wanted to kiss this Mermaid.
"Philip?" Syrena whispered, lifting her head forward to ghost those lips over his.
She wanted to kiss him too.
Philip stared at her, heart pounding his chest, knowing the truth: he never wanted anything more in his life than the mermaid before him.
And he knew he had to kiss her.
"Syrena," he breathed, brushing his fingers through her wet, blackened by water hair.
His hand wove through her hair lovingly, no words escaping their mouths but their eyes telling an epic and sudden devotion of love that had snuck up on them in an unbelievably short time.
As he placed his hand on the back of her head, still buried in that beautiful hair, Philip understood. This was what Jacob felt when he met Rachel. What Adam felt when he met Eve. What Isaac felt when he met Rebekah.
What Nathaniel felt when he met Rebecca.
Slowly, Philip pulled Syrena closer to him, his intention very clear.
Jack the Monkey give a soft screech and covered his eyes with his little paws.
As Philip brought her lips to his, Syrena didn't fight him, but she also didn't hurry him, losing herself to that delicate moment. Her eyes slipped shut as her heart pounded out of her chest, ready for him. Ready for that kiss.
Philip too was ready for that kiss – his first kiss – the kiss that would make his heart hers forever.
And gently… their lips touc-
"Am I interrupting something?" a voice rudely interrupted.
Philip and Syrena leapt apart in an instant. They panted, minds thrown as they processed what had just happen. And when their eyes set upon the intruder, together with Jack the Monkey they gasped.
Standing before them was Captain Jack Sparrow.
A/N: You know, I genuinely did not expect I would ever write a story that featured the point of view of Jack the Monkey.
Fan fiction makes you write funny things.