A/N: This is my first story! If you'd like to know about how I got inspired to write it, just read my profile, yes? Sounds good…on with the fic!

Disclaimer: Oh, crap, it looks like I don't own Finding Neverland...

Fishing with a Mermaid

He watched the clock impatiently. Three more minutes until he was free. Free to do whatever he pleased, as long as it was alright with his foster father and grandmother, of course. He tapped his fingertips on the desk, not paying attention to what his teacher was saying. What's the point? He could get the weekend's assignment from one of his classmates. But all he could think about was being able to play and run and not have to worry about sitting in a classroom and being lectured all day.

Until the weekend was over, anyway.

Two minutes. He couldn't take it. The fresh May breeze coming through the open window was calling to him. The smell of the grass, the trees, and the nearby pond in which he and his brothers would soon be fishing in was waiting for him. A bee flew inside the room, and circled George's head. He scowled, and swatted at it with his right hand. The bee thought better of dealing with the impatient young man, and moved on to see who else would be worthy of annoying.

Thirty seconds. George was counting down in his head, and watched the second hand move slowly around the clock. His teacher must have already wished them all a safe weekend, and reminded them to study, because his classmates were talking quietly amongst one another. Finally, the teacher dismissed them. George shoved his cap on his head and slung his schoolbag over his shoulder. He dashed out of the building and over to a tall oak tree where he and his brothers had agreed to meet earlier that day.

He circled the tree, eager to get out of his school clothes and into his play clothes. He thought of the different kinds of fish that he had a possibility of catching, hoping that he wouldn't be disappointed like he was last time. A goldfish. That's what he had caught a week ago. Then again, it was later in the year, and more fish should be biting, or so he hoped. George looked around, and saw his youngest brother, Michael, approaching him holding the second oldest Llewelyn-Davies boy, Jack's, hand. He smiled and stopped circling the tree. Michael grinned and let go of Jack's hand. He ran up to George, and hugged his middle with such a great force that George almost fell to the ground.
"Augh! Hello...Michael...ugh…It's wonderful to see you too…" George managed to get out. Michael just grinned bigger and hugged his brother as though he hadn't seen him in ages, when in truth, it had only been a few hours. Jack rolled his eyes, and leaned against the tree with his arms crossed, while looking out at the crowd of smiling students. His cap was tilted slightly to the left, and his eyes narrowed. George took one look at him and knew at once what was on his mind.

"You're not still trying to impress that girl, are you? You look so foolish the way you're wearing your cap." George said, as Michael released him and stood on tip-toe searching for Peter, the second youngest brother.

"Of course I am. Have you seen her? She's absolutely beautiful!"

"She's older than I am, Jack. I think she's way too old for you. Besides, you don't need a girlfriend, you're only eleven."

"Oh, who asked you, anyway? You always turn me down, George, the least you can do is be supportive of me." Jack examined his nails, trying to look as cool as he could. "But of course, I guess she wouldn't take much notice of me if I were hanging around with you." Jack smirked.

"You're hilarious. Wait until I tell Grandmother. She'll give you a good smacking."

"What are you two fighting about? Can't you ever get along?" Neither Jack nor George had noticed that Peter had approached them. Apparently Michael did, however, because he was hanging on to Peter's arm.

"Whatever we're talking about, it isn't any of your business," Jack hissed, "Are you ready to head home? Because I'm really in the mood to catch a nice big carp and cook it up for dinner." He didn't wait for an answer, and started to head towards home. Peter sighed, and the rest of the boys followed him.

OOOOO

The four boys sat by the water's edge lazily, waiting for their lines to be tugged on by a passing fish. Michael, however, was busy studying a small ladybug in the grass, and wasn't paying much attention to his fishing pole.

"Do you think I have a chance with her?" Jack asked.

George sighed. "Of course you don't, she has to be at least fifteen. I think I've seen her with another boy before, anyways." This was a lie, of course, but there was no point in getting the boy's hopes up.

"Well you wait. I'll get her. She's really pretty, and I'm really handsome. We're practically soul mates."

"Right, soul mates. That's what you are, Jack. You're soul mates with a girl you don't even know. How creative. Why don't you try to focus on your schoolwork instead of girls? I've heard that your math grades went down."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Around. I've got my ways. Shh, I think I see a fish. You've got to be quiet, otherwise you'll scare him." George said, lowering his voice as soon as he'd seen the fish. He watched the rippling shadow for a minute or so, then huffed when it sped off in the opposite direction.

"I don't think they're biting today." Peter said. Boredom had overcome the small boy, and he was considering taking up Michael's actions and studying something that actually moved.

"Neither do I. Perhaps we should try back again tomorrow?" Jack suggested. The three eldest boys sighed, and agreed that tomorrow would be a better time. They knew that if they had to wait this long, it probably wasn't worth it. They started packing up their snacks, their blanket they had brought to sit on, and their fishing gear. Michael, however, was lost in his own world. He was imagining what it would be like to be a ladybug. 'But I can't be a ladybug…I'm a boy! Perhaps, then, I would be a boybug?' He thought. "Come on, Michael, let's go home." came George's voice. Michael nodded and stood. But then, the small, fair-haired boy was thrown forward onto the ground. Jack grabbed his ankles so he wouldn't slide into the muddy pond.

"Michael! You've hooked one! You've got a fish! Quick, reel him in, reel him in!" George yelled with excitement. Michael put his hand on the spinning reel and struggled to wind it toward himself. Peter put his hand over Michael's and helped him. A few seconds later, the water was disturbed by a giant splash, which soaked their heads, followed by a three-foot long bass. The youngest boy gasped in amazement, never have seen a fish this big before so close to him. When the bass was close enough for him to reach, George grabbed the struggling fish and attempted to keep him still. Jack let go of Michael's ankles, and grabbed the bucket they had prepared. He dunked it in the pond, filling it with water, and put it on the earth beneath the fish. George unhooked it, and set it inside the bucket, where it thrashed around in fear.

"I caught one! I really caught a fish! Look at how big he is! Look at him! Wow!" Michael was shocked at his catch, and very proud of himself, as he should have been. Peter frowned when he saw the creature bent strangely inside the bucket.

"I don't think it's big enough for him. Don't we have something else?"

"Just the basket, Peter, but we can't fill that with water, it'll leak. And besides, our food is in there. But look at the size of him! Way to go, Michael!" Jack helped Michael off the ground, and helped him get all the grass off of his front. "How are we supposed to get it home, though? It's far too heavy for us to carry it, and we might drop it."

"Well, if we dump some of the water out then I suppose it'll be a bit lighter. I'll carry it since I'm the strongest, Michael can carry the basket, Peter can get the fishing poles, and you'll help me, Jack." The second oldest boy nodded and helped George with the bucket.

"Do you see that? Look, over there, on the island." Michael pointed across the vast pond at a small piece of land that was clear on the other side of the medium-sized body of water. Indeed, there was a shadow, though it was difficult to see because of the fog that was building up.

"It's just another fisherman, Michael, leave them alone. They're probably looking over at us and admiring our catch." George smiled, looking down at the fish.

"But they don't have a fishing pole. And..," He gasped, "It's a girl! Look, see? She has long hair! Girl's don't spend time around ponds!"

"Some of them do. Alright, can we get home? We need to show this catch to Uncle Jim!" Michael nodded, tearing his eyes away from the girl, and took hold of the basket. He and Peter walked away from the two eldest boys. Jack looked down and grabbed one side of the bucket. George was still looking at the shadow of the girl, and saw something that he never thought he'd see in his lifetime. The fog cleared, but only for a moment. In that time he saw that the girl was in fact a woman, who had no legs, but instead fins! Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded around her shoulders so gracefully, and her arms were long and slender. The woman saw George, her eyes grew wide, and she jumped into the pond, her tail shimmering in the little sunlight, and disappearing into the water. George rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times, and saw that the fog was still hanging low, and proceeded to get heavier. He shook his head, and Jack yelled for him to help with the bucket. On the way home, the fog was so heavy that they could barely see a few feet ahead of them, causing Michael to almost run into a horse-drawn carriage. 'It can't be. It was just in my mind. Mermaids aren't real. Fairies are, but not mermaids. And even if mermaids were real, they wouldn't live in ponds. It's the fog. That's what's done it. The fog, it's getting to me.' George thought. Though the woman, or mermaid, was as clear as day, and George was so sure that she was there.

OOOOO

Later that night, as the boys lay sound asleep in their bed, James Barrie was awake downstairs in the parlor. It was about one in the morning, and James knew he ought to get to sleep, but he couldn't stop writing. It was a curse, sometimes, writing. He wanted so badly to lie in his soft bed, but yet he couldn't bring himself to stop his pen from moving. 'It's fine. If I don't get these thoughts down now, they'll be gone by morning.' And it was true. James knew from experience that if he didn't write down a thought as soon as it came to mind, he would lose it forever. Oh, and what a thought this was. A poem, more like. Still just words and phrases, but soon, he decided he would try to make a poem out of it. If not, he'll stick it in a play.

OOOOO

George was dreaming a pleasant dream. He dreamt of the Neverland that Uncle Jim had created in their backyard, just for Sylvia. His mother. He remembers her so well, being the oldest and having the most memories with her. The look on her face when she saw Neverland for the first time. Her Neverland. It was marvelous, how magical their lawn had become. He wished it would stay forever. George, in his dream, walked over to the small pond, if you will, in his backyard. The mermaids curled around it, with their long wavy hair, and bright, shining fins. They watched the goldfish, which swam in circles around the pond. So peaceful and careless. It seemed as though nothing was wrong in the world, seeing this. The mermaids and the goldfish. Such simple creatures, yet so calming. Suddenly, the goldfish transformed into bass, thrashing around and splashing the mermaids and George. The mermaids screamed, as though this were a big deal. One mermaid screamed at George, telling him he was a cruel and evil person, and she couldn't believe that he would do anything so hurtful. George didn't know what she was talking about, but before he had time to ask, the mermaids jumped into the pond, disappearing into the nonexistent depths, with the bass following close behind them.

He gasped, and sat up, finding himself in a sweat. 'What an odd dream. It was far too closely related to today's events.' He looked up at the moon, and guessed that it was early morning because of its position. 'I wonder, though, what she meant. What did I do that was hurtful? I'm certainly not cruel, nor am I evil.' He sighed. He didn't want to think about it now. In the morning, perhaps. George lay his head down on his pillow, closed his eyes, and without another thought, drifted back into his very own Neverland.