Author's Note: Phillip/Syrena is one of my new favorite pairings. Thus inspiring this fic. R&R, please.

Her smile was like a rose, a rose of every color. Pale yellow like the rising sun, greeting, curious, ready to take on the day. Light pink like a child's frock, unsuspecting, full of life, and utterly adorable. A darker pink like her full lips, her flushing cheeks. Red like bond the bond they shared, deeper than bold, the fierce intensity in her eyes, the devastation she was capable of. And white like an angel's wings, a soulful white, elegant, soft, and pure.

His smile was like every color of the sky and more. Pale grey like a rain cloud, serious yet understanding, dependable and cleansing. Light blue like the start of the day, a party dress; encouraging and helpful. Azure, like his eyes, the intensity and strength within them. Pink and orange like passion, hers and his, swirling to create them stronger. And black, like the things he'd been through for her, the darker side of life he'd seen.

Phillip's eyes fluttered as he struggled to keep them open, exhaustion and pain etching lines in his face. Her face was burned into his memory, not even giving him a second glance as he'd freed her. He deserved it, but it didn't mean it hadn't caused him pain. Now she was gone. And he lay curled by the Jungle Pools, taking his dying breaths. His hand dipped into the water, splashing some of it onto the gaping wound across his chest. It was over.

Syrena swan towards the surface rapidly, her own words echoing in her head. Sparrow could be trusted to do the right thing. But it was a fading concern like a bird, flying away. Going, going, gone. Her one focus was him. Her own personal ocean and air, the person she'd been waiting for. It couldn't be too late, not now. Her tail moved through the water faster than ever before, propelling her forward. He needed her. She needed him.

He was aware of a head breaking the surface, and he looked, wishing desperately that it was Syrena, sending a silent prayer to god.

That was the day he truly began to understand the meaning of the word miracle. "I can heal you," she breathed, hazel eyes framed by long lashes blinking at him, holding his hand. "All you have to do is ask." She gripped his hand, willing him to speak again.

"Please forgive me," he didn't hesitate in those words, gasping, voice raspy. The pain was beginning to fade. It couldn't be much longer.

Then she kissed him.

Her arm moved in one quick gesture, pulling him into the water, and along with her, swimming, holding him in her arms like he had her all those hours he had walked. The healing was already beginning to work. He was limp in her arms, exhausted from the long days, the injuries, and the pain he'd experienced and seen. Her magic wasn't brilliant. It wasn't great. It wasn't even good. Mediocre at the best.

But he would live, and that was what mattered.

She broke the surface a few moments later, right by the shore. His head rested against her shoulder, hand unconsciously gripping one of hers. Letting go of him with one arm, she paddled closer, cautious, one hand gripping the edge of the land. In the distance, Blackbeard's ship was leaving, without him. Presumably the one legged pirate captain had seen it as a good investment. Personally, she could've cared less. Syrena took a deep breath, and wrapped her other arm around Phillip more tightly. Then, with a large push, fingers digging into the tundra, she dragged the two of them to shore and rolling so that they were side by side, facing each other, inches away from the water. She shuddered as her tail dissolved, once again, leaving her with a pair of legs. A pair of useless legs.

The next few minutes were slow and tedious as she dragged herself a few more feet away, and then pulled him after her. A sitting position was maintained easily, and she leaned up against a tree with his head cradled in her lap. She looked up, briefly, and then around at the surrounding area. Trees and foliage in every direction. Two choices. Her life, or his. And for him, her life was not a good option.

She'd always wondered what it was like to be human.

They had no ship, not even a small boat. Nothing. Her hand stroked his forehead, brushing damp hair out of his eyes. "It will be okay," she murmured, not taking her eyes off of him for even a moment.

He didn't open his eyes or even stir. But for a brief moment, he might have smiled.