A/N: This is a companion piece to my first OST story, A Tale of Mermaid. This one takes place some time after that one, but the two do not necessarily need to be read in that order. Enjoy!

Summary: Philip and Syrena discover that not all pirates are like the ones they have encountered. One-shot.

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters are mine. I'm not even sure Liam is mine, except for the name and the personality.

A Different Kind

Stretching after a long day spent on her stool in the marketplace of Jamarion, Syrena Swift turned her gaze towards the sea, often fumbling in packing her wares because she was so distracted by the waves that called to her, swift as a siren's song, and the near-constant itching her legs, her one torment after a long day in her human form.

Bundling the last of the sea urchins' spines into their padding, Syrena turned her gaze to the sand, eagerly anticipating her journey home to her waiting husband. As it was nearly sunset, the marketplace was beginning to clear—wives rushed home to prepare the evening meal, and husbands trudged home after a long day of work, worn and weary. The only creatures seemingly unaffected by the time were the children, who merrily scampered through the now-empty stalls. Due to her daydreaming, Syrena found she was one of the last vendors left loitering.

Blushing with embarrassment, Syrena wrenched her thoughts from the sea and quickly finished packing, hoping that Philip would join her in the waves tonight. If she once again gave him the ability to breathe underwater, she could at last show him that wonderful cave she had discovered, secluded and the perfect grotto, accessible only by water…

Her thoughts lost in memories of nights with her husband, Syrena did not notice the creature hurtling towards her until it was nearly too late. Skidding to a stop nearly an inch away from her, the lanky young boy thrust his short sword at an imaginary foe, ignoring the woman who recoiled in surprise and fear and hissed at him, startled.

"I'm Jack Sparrow! Fear me!"

His hat tilted at a rakish angle, his brown hair spilling out of his hasty ponytail, the boy looked nothing like the infamous pirate whose name he was crowing at the top of his lungs in the deserted aisle.

"Avast! What have we here!" He cried, swinging around to eye Syrena with sudden interest. "Do we have a challenger for the invincible Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain."

At the unison that rang behind her, Syrena whirled around, the boy forgotten as she stared at the two strangers that had made their appearance, her hazel eyes wide with fear.

For their part, the man and the woman took little notice of her as they eyed what was clearly their offspring with amusement. The man gave Syrena a cursory glance, but she stared back, slightly intimidated by this intruder. After her encounter with Blackbeard, the only man she trusted implicitly was her husband.

The man had hair a few shades darker than his son's, nearly as dark as Syrena's sable locks. His brown eyes were full of warmth as he smiled at his child, but every other muscle in his body was tensed with wariness, as if waiting for a fight. He was dressed as a pirate, a bandana holding back his long hair and a sword belt lay across his chest, leading to a vicious blade that swung at his left hip. Another dagger hung next to his sword, and an odd hilt stuck out of one of his leather boots, leaving Syrena with no doubt that this man was well armed. He wore dark trousers tucked into his boots, and the deep purple shirt he wore lay open at his chest, allowing Syrena a glimpse of the beginnings of a scar over his heart.

His lover—or wife, Syrena was unsure—the child's mother was not dressed as any woman Syrena had ever seen, even when she had hunted with her sisters. She knew there women among pirates, but this woman was different.

Golden hair streaked lighter after exposure in the sun was bound back in a bun, and sharp brown eyes gazed levelly at Syrena over high cheekbones, which could be found in her son's visage. She wore dark trousers as the man did, but over her white shirt, she wore a dark blue sur-coat with curious gold embroidery. She too, wore a sword with the ease of a woman who has had much experience with a blade, and she was perhaps more heavily armed than her companion.

All three were tanned, a clear sign of much exposure to the sun, and all three exuded an aura that made Syrena shiver and wish she could dive back into the sea, to take refuge in the depths.

Pirates.

Inching away, Syrena reached for the knife she was now grateful Philip insisted she carry, suddenly missing the sharp teeth and claws she had once used with such proficiency. Even as she began to pull the blade from its sheath, she despaired. After long lessons, she could still not adequately defend herself with a dagger. She glanced again at the man and woman, then out at the sea that now called to her, offering sanctuary. Could she outrun them?

No. Even after spending most of the months of her marriage as a human woman every day, her mobility was still not strong enough to endure such a long run.

No. She must bluff her way out.

"Can I help you?" She demanded, drawing herself up and staring at them imperiously.

Ignoring her question, the woman frowned at her son. "Liam," she scolded, "put your sword away and apologize."

Ducking his head at the chastisement, the boy did as he was bid. "Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled, shuffling his way to his father's side, still clutching the hilt of his sword.

"I'm sorry, Mistress…?"

"Swift." Syrena replied, now gazing at the boy in curiosity. The name he had crowed so triumphantly had struck a chord in her memory, and now she gazed at his parents with new eyes.

"How do you know Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain," the man corrected in exasperation, while the woman beside him rolled her eyes.

"He's my uncle!" The boy piped up suddenly, beaming at Syrena's sudden interest. "Papa got a note, and now he and Mama are going to go find Uncle Jack, and I get to come!"

He thrust out his fist, and Syrena looked down, spying a familiar black object in the grubby palm. "Uncle Jack sent his compass to me, see, and Mama says that it will-"

His father's hands cut off his rapid speech, and the man pulled his son back against him. "That's enough, William," he said curtly.

As the boy wilted under his father's stern eye, Syrena completed his sentence. "It leads you to whatever you seek most."

Three wide pairs of eyes came to rest on her, and the woman nodded slowly, her gaze calculating. "How do you know of Jack's compass?"

Syrena bit her lip, wondering how much she should divulge. "I traveled with him, for a time."

"You know Jack?" The man's brown gaze was not nearly as sharp as his companion's, but Syrena looked away, feeling that his steady look was more searching, as if he had a habit of examining the souls of his fellow human beings.

She nodded, still wary. "Briefly."

At her admission, the tension between the four was released, and the woman stepped forward, nodding in agreement to some decision that Syrena did not realize had been made.

"I'm Captain Elizabeth Turner, once the Pirate King, now captain of the Lark, and this is my husband, Captain William Turner of the Soul-seeker."

Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder and offered him a genuine smile. "I believe you've already met our son, William Turner, who spends the time he should be scouting pretending to be his favorite pirate uncle."

"But I only have one pirate uncle!" Liam protested, his brown eyes wide.

Chuckling, Elizabeth smoothed her son's hair away from his forehead and turned to Syrena. As she turned, Syrena could see the shift from mother to pirate captain, and she once again gave the minister's wife a cool, evaluating gaze. "You said you knew Jack?"

Syrena sighed and picked up her baskets, loathe to do was she was about to do, but knowing that it must be done. "You'd best come with me. You'll need to speak to my husband."

The walk to the private, sheltered cove was silent, and Syrena could sense the wariness that grew with every boot-print that was left by the small family. They were wondering if she wasn't a spy, some woman sent to lure them into a trap. Wishing she had the words to dispel their fears, Syrena knew that talking would be useless. She would allow Philip to explain—his gift with words was better than her own.

Syrena found her husband seated at their rough wooden table, the door and every window open to make use of every last bit of light before he was forced to light one of their few candles. He was hunched over his well-loved and well-worn Bible, the very book that had brought her physical salvation, and the one she knew her husband hoped would day bring her spiritual salvation as well.

"Dearest," she called gently, setting her baskets by the door and striding to his side, enjoy the cool dirt under her toes.

At her entrance, Philip glanced up, smiling at her appearance, standing to kiss her. Only once she had drawn away after several pleasured filled seconds did he realize that they had company.

"Syrena?" He questioned uneasily at the sight of the three people hovering just beyond their doorway.

Laying a hand on his arm, Syrena offered him a tight smile. "They want to know about Jack Sparrow."

"Captain," Will corrected absently, striding into the small home and offering his hand to Philip. "Captain William Turner," he informed the baffled minister by way of introduction. "I'm a friend of Jack's. We were hoping for more information."

Philip sighed, and Syrena saw how the lines around his eyes tightened with weariness. "Let's go outside," he said brusquely, brushing past the pirate captain without taking the proffered hand. "We'll have more room."

Syrena followed her husband, pretending not to see Will's puzzled glance in her direction. She knew that Philip was worried—they had made a new life for themselves on this island in the hopes that their brief encounter with pirating world would be the last. Syrena shared her husband's desire for a pirate-less existence. She did not wish to be bothered by such nefarious beings ever again.

"You see," Philip concluded after detailing what he knew of Blackbeard's attempts to obtain the waters of life at the Fountain of Youth, "that was the last I saw Jack. My only concern was returning to free Syrena."

Warming at the fierce love that shone in her husband's gaze, Syrena did not miss the way Will squeezed Elizabeth's hand in acknowledgment.

"I saw him after that," Syrena murmured. At the Captain Turners' surprised and hopeful gazes, she elaborated. "I went back to attempt to help him, as he had never meant me any harm. I retrieved the goblets for him, and I warned him that he should not waste my tear. That was the last I saw of him."

"Are you really a mermaid?" Young Liam burst out, and Syrena reluctantly nodded. Ever since Philip had grudgingly revealed her secret—to assurances that the Turners would say nothing, as they were well versed with the supernatural—the Turners' young son had been staring at the minister's wife in fascination.

"Can I see?"

Syrena found herself nodding, even as Philip's concerned frown flashed her a silent warning. "Come," she gestured to the waves, holding out her hand to the boy.

She paused as Elizabeth's hands clenched around her son's shoulders even as he eagerly reached for her hand, halting his progress. Understanding the way her muscles tensed, Syrena waited for the former pirate king to speak.

"I have had too much experience with the other-worldly to allow my son to go into the sea with a mermaid." Her lips thinned, and her face grew pale. "I have heard the stories of Whitecap Bay, Mistress Swift."

Seeing the silent challenge in the other woman's eyes, Syrena nodded her assent, holding up at hand to stifle her husband's protests before he could voice them.

Sliding into the surf was a cool and natural relief to the scales she could feel forming on her skin even as she approached the water. Careful not to go too far beyond the shallows, Syrena turned and flipped her tail out of the water, clearly exhibiting for the doubting pirates to see.

Grunting in admiration, Will Turner turned to Philip. "You married a mermaid? Aren't they men-hunters?"

"You married a pirate king?" Philip shot back, his green eyes narrowed. "Aren't they men-killers?"

At his retort, Will began to laugh. "Well said, minister," he conceded, wrapping an arm around his wife. "I'll take my chances."

"As will I." Philip said stiffly, his gaze softening as he watched Syrena emerge from the shallows, her golden-green eyes sparkling even after her brief contact with her natural element.

Elizabeth was quick to return the conversation from the topic at hand, the worry pinching her brow belying her calm words. Syrena wondered at this family's care for Jack Sparrow—Captain though he may be, she had seen little in her brief contact with him that would inspire such loyalty.

"We have this letter from Gibbs," the woman admitted, extracting a smudged letter from her coat and brushing the sand away from it. "I'm sure he sent it without Jack's knowledge, as Jack's only way of asking for help is in person. According to Gibbs, both the Pearl and Jack are in danger, but here he only says that there is 'dark magic at work,' and someone is out to cause Jack pain."

Tucking the letter back in her coat, Elizabeth straightened and eyed their newest allies. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Have you tried Tortuga?" Philip offered. The port, a well-known pirate harbor, was full of the type of debauchery that Jack Sparrow would enjoy. It was could be seen on the horizon if one stood on the north end of Massika, and Philip knew of many young men who would love to journey there if they could, eager to leave this small—and to them—uninteresting hunk of land.

Will grimaced, his eyes on the horizon. "We thought of Tortuga, and we even sent messages there, but the closest we got to finding Jack was the knowledge that Barbossa had stopped there with the Queen Anne's Revenge a few months ago to pick up supplies."

In the dying light of the sun, Philip Swift stood, brushing sand from his well-worn trousers and solemnly staring down at his guests. "Jack Sparrow saved my life," he told them gravely, while Syrena watched him, wide-eyed. "If I hear of him, or any knowledge of him comes to me, I'll be sure to send it to you."

"Better yet," Elizabeth suggested, slanting Syrena a quick glance, "send your wife with the message. It will be faster, and there are less chances of it getting lost."

Philip's lips thinned, and Syrena stood, recognizing the clouds of bad temper that had come to rest on his brow. He worried about her, and he was not about to compromise her safety for the life of one pirate.

"Let them think on it, dear," Will counseled his wife, pulling her to her feet and watching their son scramble to his. "They're promised to help, and finding two new allies when we only stopped for supplies if an advantage we never thought we'd find."

Elizabeth nodded her assent, but Syrena could sense her displeasure—she was a woman who was used to being obeyed, not conceding to others.

Syrena nestled back into Philip as he slipped his arms around her waist. The two watched in silence as the small family trudged across the sand, back to their ships, their crews, and their quest.

It was only after they had rounded the far end of the rocks that Philip spoke. "They're not like other pirates."

Syrena shook her head in agreement, contrasting the Turners with the few pirates she had briefly known. "They are of a different kind," she agreed.

Pressing a kiss to their cheek, Philip held her closer as she shivered at the sea breeze that was rising with the approaching dusk. "Come on, dearest," he coaxed, taking her hand and leading her back towards their cottage. "I pray that they find what they are looking for."

By the goddess Calypso, I hope so too.

~Fin