Disclaimer: I do not own PotC.

I've decided to merge five fics, which are parts of the same arc, into one for convenience. They are Free, Gone, Lost, Resigned and Reborn. Since Reborn was the longest part, I will be merging the rest into it.

I value your reviews and it's unfair to delete them with the separate parts since people have taken care to write to me. I will copy and post each review at the end of the chapters they were written for.

Part I

FREE

Bristol. Year 1727

Lazily, James Norrington observed specks of chalk float in the stream of sunlight, which snuck past tightly closed classroom curtain. James shifted his feet carefully to avoid bumping his knee on a student table fifteen year old had long outgrown. He was waiting for the teacher to hand out their final test results, so the last class of the day would come to an end. More so, it was this day and the one after tomorrow to live through before the students had their school break. James' studies were coming to an end. He anticipated the day of his release, eager to apply his hard earned knowledge in practice. The classroom walls were bearing down on him. He frequently stole glances at the few windows that held freedom and promise behind them.

It's not that he was a poor student; there were subjects he liked, but a few he didn't. His grades were solid, closer to the top of the student list as to avoid disappointing his father. James did what was required of him to meet family expectations, but without any studious fervour. He simply wasn't the type to take pleasure in lengthily stationary activities. He left that to his friend Philip Price.

The boy to his right had a talent for sitting still and mulling over the most difficult problems until he had solved them. He had a lot of patience, flexible mind and a hard work ethic. Philip considered himself and probably was the best student in school.

The teacher went across the room, moving his legs importantly like a lanky stork, as he handed back the papers, making the out loud remarks about them.

"Steady as you were, Mr Norrington," he commented ironically, dropping the test onto his desk.

He went around, returning a few more tests, until he had only two left in his hand. Philip had yet to receive his.

"Today," said the teacher significantly as the class went silent and James suppressed a yawn, "before all of you leave and in the last attempt to imbue a bit of wisdom into you, I must comment on the outstanding work written by one of your fellow students who shows great promise and a mind ready for the grown up world."

Philip squared his narrow shoulders and barrelled out his chest, prepared for praise. It was his grand moment. The teacher stalked past him, casually dropping his test onto his desk and headed to the other end of the classroom.

"Mr Alexander Ash, your essay is truly inspiring." The teacher spared a brief smile of appraisal to his student with his back turned to Philip who turned the colour of his parchment.

James suppressed a smirk and hid behind his returned test paper. It was a solid grade without any ambitions for the better, as expected. His eyes tried to slide close in boredom, and he poked himself with a quill to stay awake as the teacher went on praising Alexander. Beside him, Philip was glaring at his paper that received a perfect grade, but was not praised as inspirational. James ignored all words except most important ones he was waiting to hear.

"Class dismissed."

James disentangled his limbs from the seat, nearly bouncing in anticipation to go. Philip, however, was taking his slow time gathering his belonging and methodically placing them in the bag. He looked at the teacher, considering to approach him much to James' dread, but Alexander came up to the teacher first. Philip, not wanting to be second there too, with a scoff grabbed his bag and went to the door.

As they came outside, Philip was brooding. Hard lines were edged into his face.

"Don't worry about placing second on the test or rather your scores were equal, so it's not even second," James assured him. "It's a good result."

But, it wasn't the glorious result that could be bragged about. Being ignored made him second and deprived Philip of the acknowledgement of his talent.

"I wanted to tell my family that I scored the highest. I put all my effort into writing, hardly slept at night and the teacher ignored me. He remarked on everyone's work, even saying something to you, but not to me."

"Let's not underestimate my intellectual abilities," said James.

"I'm not," Philip muttered. "I'm underestimating your work ethic. You hardly study, and yet your results are high, although not the highest."

"I don't study a lot compared to you, but I do study no less than any other person, especially when it comes to some of the subjects that I have to suffer where my brain keep forcing out the information I had barely stored in it."

"You'd have much better results had you put more effort into it," said Philip, wondering if James could have done a better job than he had.

"All my efforts go into not falling asleep," James parried. "My father will be pleased with you too, even more so than he will be with me."

"Your father is a wise man," Philip replied seriously as his shoulders went stiff defensively. "He is a man of strong principles. He has a lot to teach. I benefit greatly from his company."

For whatever reason he didn't seem fully sincere, but James assigned that to the unease Philip must have felt that Lawrence favoured him more than his son. The relationship with his father was never easy for James, meanwhile Philip who appeared at his home two years ago was always there to flatter Lawrence and ask him right questions. James supposed he couldn't begrudge him that, wanting to make up for a lack of father he didn't have. Philip's father died about at the same time as James lost his mother. Their parents built a friendship and perhaps something more was growing between them. That's how the boys were acquainted, through their parent's meetings. James didn't think he'd be Philip's friend otherwise. "I daresay, your mother benefits from his company too," he noted to distract Philip from brooding.

"They should get married already."

"I think my father holds your mother in high esteem. I have heard, however, him mumbling something about old age."

"Nonsense," said Philip. "He is only fourty nine. My mother is several years younger. It would be a smart match and a good business."

James winced inwardly. He didn't want Philip for a relative, although he realised that he couldn't have expected his father to stay a widower all his life.

Loud voices interrupted their banter. They came to a halt in front of a brawl. Two boys from their class were 'giving a piece of their mind' to a third one on the ground, suffering their punches and waiting for them to go away. James recognised the boy on the ground as the merchant's son. He was on the lowest step of the social ladder in their class. His father badly wanted to educate his son to put him in commanding ranks of the Navy, doing his best to provide for it. However, his son lacked studiousness and often got into fights with the classmates, ending up worse for wear because he had to hold back.

Philip's eyes grew cold and guarded. "Hey, mates, leave the boy be," he called out into the middle of the fight. The duo stopped punching and gaped, wondering who was giving them orders. They sized Philip and then saw James towering beside him. The duo reluctantly stepped away.

"He owes us some money he borrowed," they countered.

"Beating the stuffing out of him is hardly going to get it back," Philip told them. He reached into his bag and looked through it. "How much does he owe you?"

The boys looked at him in uncertainty. "You're going to pay for him?"

Philip shrugged.

"A sixpence, then."

"I don't have that much, but I have a shilling. You don't need to give me change, call it a compensation for interfering with your fighting." Philip tossed a shilling at them. One of the boys caught it nimbly and they went away.

The merchant's son got out of the dust, bewildered why he earned such a rich bounty and what he had to pay for it.

"You're Braden, aren't you?" said Philip. He evaluated the boy's muscular arms, broad chest and large fists closely. "Why were you letting them beat you? You're two heads taller and stronger."

The boy eyed him wearily. "I'd get into trouble with adults if I fight back," he offered darkly. "I don't want to get kicked out of school for fighting."

"Ah, but you can still fight, you know, as long as someone reliable can vouch that they were douche bags to you and it was in self-defence. Someone like me. You see."

At that moment Alexander came out of the school door and headed towards the gate where they stood. Philip threw a long side-glance at him, but kept his focus on Braden. "I've seen them taunt you before and foul-mouth your hard-working father. They're full of themselves, like Alex, for instance. He was calling us all dullards and said that you shouldn't be in the class for being a hopeless idiot and a waste of your father's efforts. Who would blame you if you wanted to teach him a lesson? Trip him as he goes by."

Alexander was coming closer. Braden eyed him, clearly tempted, but afraid of the consequences. James put his hands into his pockets, unsure whether he should interfere. It wasn't uncommon for boys to fight to settle the inner dynamics and hierarchy where stepping in for another was not encouraged. James didn't like this change of attitude. Philip had a spiteful side to him that at times came out. James wasn't a fool. He knew that Philip simply interfered, not to help Braden, but to settle his score with Alex who bested him at the essay.

"James and I will vouch for you," Philip assured.

"No. I won't," said James. "Don't drag me into this. In fact, I never heard such remarks from Alex. These are your words only."

"We will be nearby," said Philip. He grabbed hold of James and pulled him away from Braden as not to be seen together. "Do it," he hissed.

Alexander was close, balancing a huge bag that was clearly too heavy with all the books in his arms. As he went past, Braden thrust his foot forward reluctantly. Alex barely missed it. He stumbled, close to a fall.

"What do you think you're doing, you oaf?" he inquired angrily. "Has your mind completely deteriorated that you trip people for no reason?"

It was a wrong thing to say. It reminded Braden of so many taunts about his low intelligence that he suffered before. "I have a reason right here," he shouted. Viciously, he buried his knee in the Alex's stomach. The boy doubled over, gasping in pain.

"I'll tell on you!" he ground out.

"Tell what, that you called me names and I've defended myself?" Braden shouted, throwing a punch that sent smaller boy sprawling into dust. There was blood on his fist.

"Call him off," said James coldly.

Philip shook his head. Braden pulled Alex up by the collar and aimed to punch him again. His swing was stopped half-way, caught in a grasp. Still holding Alex, Braden turned his head. Hard, green eyes met his unfocused gaze.

"I think you got him good enough," James told him. He was glaring up at Braden. This was the only boy in their class who towered above him. Braden hesitated, torn between fear and his newly found freedom to hit people. He wondered how far he could extend his new power. Ash, however, was a much easier opponent than Norrington. As if reading his thoughts, James' grip became painful on his wrist. "Stand down," he ordered. Authority rang like steel in his voice.

Braden shot him a mutinous look and then his muscles relaxed. He stepped back. Alex slipped out of his grasp, hurriedly picking up his books. He ran without looking back.

"You're no fun," said Philip. "You should have let Braden be. After all, he had been irked and made fun of ever since the first grade. That's a lot of time to hold a pent up frustration. He is an all right lad, I can tell. Hey, Braden, you will come over to my house tomorrow, won't you? We should talk."

"If my pops doesn't keep me working," said Braden, clearly tempted.

"I have to go," James said irritably. He didn't like Braden and didn't want him coming over to visit Philip because it ultimately meant his appearance at his father's home too. He set off away from them.

"Come when you can," Philip quickly repeated his offer and then sat off after James.

They walked side by side with heavy tension between them.

"I simply hate to lose," said Philip at last half apologetically, half defensively. "We live in a hard world where unless you fight to the top, you will get used and beaten. Of the two alternatives, to be doing the beatings or to be beaten, I choose the first."

James stopped abruptly. His lips were set in a firm line, his fists clenched. He was about to tell Philip what he thought about such a world view when a clear, feminine voice called out to him.

"James, wait for me please!"

PaxtonSky chapter 1 . Jun 29, 2011

Sounds good so far, I look forward to seeing more!

Norrieo chapter 1 . Sep 5, 2011

FINALLY! Someone realizes that Gillette's name is Phillip, not Andrew! WE true afficianados deserve a piece of imaginary celebratory cake!