A/N: Welcome to my Finding Neverland fic! can you tell i really LOVE Johnny Depp? anywho, i think it goes without saying that i don't own Finding Neverland. i hope i don't go OOC with any of the characters. enjoy!

Chapter 1: Packing and Leaving

James hurriedly folded and packed his clothes into his suitcase, not bothering to flatten out wrinkles he made as he did.

"Uncle Jim! Uncle Jim!"

James spun around to see Michael racing toward him through the open doorway carrying his suitcase.

"My goodness, you're a strong lad, aren't you?" James smiled and knelt down to the boy's height. "All packed, are we?" He took the suitcase then frowned at it when he realized how light it was. He smiled and looked at the little boy. "Shall I help you, then?"

Michael only nodded and James stood, tousling the boy's hair a bit. The little boy skipped ahead of him down the hall and into the boys' room.

"Ow! Jack! I'll get you for that!"

"Peter! Grab hold of his legs!"

"I'll do it! I want to help!"

"No Michael!"

"Well, this room is a mess, isn't it?" James smiled and the boys froze as they looked at him.

"But it was Jack's fault!" Michael insisted.

"I didn't do it!" Jack replied defensively.

"Well, perhaps it was everyone fault then, was it?" James smirked, walking into the room and setting the suit case on Michael's bed.

"Uncle Jim," Peter called, drawing his attention.

"Yes, Peter?" James asked.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, lad. It's a surprise," James smiled. "A wonderful surprise. Now go on and finish packing while I get Michael situated, here."

"Why can't we know where we're going, Uncle Jim?" Jack wondered as Peter walked off to gather his clothing.

"Because then it wouldn't be a surprise," James replied, helping Peter pick up the clothes.

"Is grandmother coming with us?" George asked, folding some clothes on his bed.

"No, she can't, unfortunately."

"Why not?" George asked.

"She offered to housesit while we're away."

"How long will we be gone?" Jack wondered, opting to simply throw his clothes into his suitcase.

"A month or so," James replied, sorting out the clothes to figure out what belonged to whom. "Perhaps longer."

"How far away is it, Uncle Jim?" Michael wondered, simply standing next to his bed and watching James.

"Oh, far enough," he replied vaguely, walking toward each of the boys to hand them a piece of their clothing he had.

"Can I bring my journal with me, Uncle Jim?" Peter wondered and James leaned down with a smile.

"Of course ye can, boy," he replied, tousling his hair. "In fact, that reminds me…" He trailed off as he stood and headed down the hall again. The boys glanced at each other and devious smiles adorned their lips. They each picked up a pile of their clothes…

"Don't make another mess, boys!" James called from down the hall and the children looked around at each other in amazement. A moment later he came back into the room, his hands behind his back.

"George, Jack, Michael," he called and the three walked toward him as Peter only frowned, starting to pack again. "I've seen you three looking at Peter's journal in admiration, so I got you these." He pulled his hands from behind his back and held four leather bound journals in front of him. "For your own stories, lads."

The boys' faces lit up and each one grabbed a journal each. George flipped through the blue one, Jack hugged James for the red one and Michael examined the brown one, leaving a black journal in James' hands.

"Thank you Uncle Jim!" the three grinned and ran back to their beds to pack their new gifts in their suitcases. James smiled and stepped toward Peter, who was still packing and placed the new, black leather journal in front of the boy.

"When you fill the other one, you can start in this one," he smiled, tousling Peter's hair again and the boy looked up at him.

"Thank you," he smiled, his eyes alight as well. James patted his head and walked away to pack for Michael again as the little boy sat on his bed and flipped through the journal.

"I'll never fill this journal, I don't know how to write properly," he pouted as James folded the boy's clothes.

"Of course you can," James protested. "And if you need any help, you can ask me for it, alright?"

Michael nodded and smiled as he carefully placed his new journal in his suitcase.

"Will Porthos be coming with us, Uncle Jim?" George wondered.

"No," James sighed. "I'm afraid not. Poor dog can't stay away from home very long."

"Why don't we bring his home with us?" Michael asked.

"Oh, know, lad," James laughed. "We can hardly carry our own things as it is. Besides, it would be taxing a trip for the poor animal."

"How will we get there, Uncle Jim?" Jack wondered.

"By train," James replied, picking up a few more clothes from the floor.

"I've never been on a train before," Michael said.

"Me either!" Peter chimed in. "I've always wanted to go on a train."

"When are we leaving, Uncle Jim?" George asked, finally sealing his suitcase.

"Tomorrow morning," James replied, folding more clothes. "So I suggest you all get into bed on time, tonight. We'll be leaving quite early."

"How long will it take us to get there?" Peter wondered, sealing his own suitcase.

"I'm not sure," James replied with a thoughtful frown. "You never can tell with trains."

"Please, Uncle Jim, just tell us where we're going!" Michael pouted, tugging on the man's sleeve.

"Oh, yes, please!" Jack called, running to the writer and tugging on the other sleeve. George and Peter raced toward him as well, all four chanting "Please! Please!" as he looked around them in distress. He sighed in defeat as they still chanted and he turned to sit on Michael's disheveled bed.

"Alright, boys, settle down and I'll tell you," he smiled. The boys cheered and took positions around him. George and Jack sat on the floor in front of him while Peter sat next to him and Michael stood on his bed to throw his arms around the man's neck. James made a choking face that made all of them laugh.

"Well, boys," he began and cut to the chase. "We're going to Scotland."

"Scotland?" Michael echoed questioningly from behind him.

"Yes," James smiled over his shoulder. "That's where I was born. It's north of here and…" He looked around at the boys, coming up with a better idea. "Why don't I show you where it is?"

"Oh, please!" they all replied and James nodded.

"To the library then," he smiled, wrapping his arms around Michael's legs to keep the boy on his back as he stood. "I need an atlas."

"I'll race you there, Peter!" Jack grinned, jumping to his feet and shooting off and George and Peter darting off after him.

"No! Wait boys!" James called as he stood and hurried after them. "No running in the house!"

"Look at me! Look at me! I'm flying!" Michael called, holding his arms out at his sides. James suddenly couldn't control his inner-child. He grinned as he raced down the hall with Michael on his back, making the boy laugh.

"I'm flying!" Michael still called as James made a turn into the library, ducking low enough so as not to knock Michael's head on the door frame.

"We can't find the atlas, Uncle Jim!" Jack called as James entered. The three boys were at one end of the shelves that made up his library, and he let Michael down carefully as he walked toward one of the shelves.

"Let's see…" he murmured, a thoughtful finger on his lower lip. He scanned the spines of the books with his eyes until he found what he was looking for.

"Here it is, boys," he called and the five crowded around the table in the center where James opened the book and flipped through it. The four brothers watched as he searched for the page he wanted and when he reached it, he examined it for a moment.

"Alright," he began. "We are…here, in London." He pointed to a spot on the map. "And we're going this way…" He trailed his finger up the page until he came to another spot. "…We'll stop here, in Glasgow."

"Glasgow?" Peter echoed.

"What's in Glasgow?" George asked.

"That's where I went to school," James replied. "Glasgow Academy. I went there when I was only…" He looked around at the boys and pointed to Peter. "…your age."

"Will we get to see plays in Glasgow?" Jack wondered as James closed the atlas and stood.

"Oh, I'm sure there will be lots of things to do when we get there," he replied, turning to the shelves and putting the book back where he found it. "Things to explore and people to meet."

"It'll be a fantastic holiday!" George grinned to his brothers.

"Yes, it should be," James smiled, heading back toward the boys. "And perhaps you'll get to meet some of my old friends."

"You still have friends there?" Peter wondered as James knelt down to put Michael onto his back again.

"Oh, yes," he smiled, struggling to keep the boy on his back for a moment. "There is one person I write to all the time."

"Who?" Michael asked, his little arms around James' neck.

"You'll meet her when we get there," he replied. "You would like her. She's a dancer."

"A dancer?" Jack echoed and James nodded.

"A ballet dancer," he smiled, leading the boys down the hall. "She wrote to me not too long ago saying she would be in Glasgow for a while. She's visiting from France. She had to take a boat to get there."

"What's her name?" George asked.

"What's she like?" Jack wondered.

"Will she like us?" Peter chimed in.

"Is she pretty?" Michael piped up. James looked around at the boys and smiled at them as they all reached the boys' room.

"Her name is Hannah," he replied, looking at George then he looked at Michael over his shoulder. "I haven't seen her in some time, but I'm sure she's very pretty." He looked at Peter and said, "I'm sure she'll like you." Lastly, he turned to Jack with a warm smile. "She's not unlike your mother was."

The next morning...

"Come on along, boys," James called, his suitcases in hand as they all hurried across the platform. The boys hurried behind him with their own suitcases as the steam from the train billowed into all their faces.

"I can't see!" Michael called from behind. James slowed to let George catch up to him.

"You lead the way, alright?" he asked him, handing him one of his suitcases. "Go on, then."

George nodded and led their way hurriedly across the platform as James rushed to Michael.

"Alright, lad, come on," he said, picking the boy up around the waist with his free arm the little boy clutching his own suitcase. He hurried to catch up with Jack who was behind Peter.

They came to the entrance of the train as the conductor called, "All aboard!" He looked at the three boys who'd gotten there first. "Tickets please."

"I've got them," James called, coming up with Michael and setting him back down. He rummaged into one of his pockets and handed his tickets to the conductor who punched holes in each one then stood aside to let the five onto the train. James sighed in relief once he and the boys were on the train. They headed down the isles, looking for their seats. James glanced at the tickets as he led the procession through the train, looking for the right number.

"Here we are," he announced and opened the door then urged the boys inside.

"Ooh! Look! We have a window!" Michael called, running into the room and staring out the window. The rest of the boys shuffled in to put their suitcases up above their seats. James put Peter's and Michael's suitcases up for them as the boys crowded around the window.

"You might want to sit down before the train starts, boys," James advised. "We'll be leaving in a few minutes."

The boys moved away from the window, and George sat with Jack and Michael as Peter sat next to James who took off his hat and sighed again.

"Uncle Jim, where will we stay when we get to Glasgow?" George wondered.

"I have a place where we can stay," James replied. "You just worry about all the fun you're going to have."

"I'm hungry, Uncle Jim," Michael said, holding his stomach.

"We'll get something from the dining car in a few moments," James smiled.

"May I have my journal, Uncle Jim?" Jack asked.

"Me too! Me Too!" Michael replied, forgetting his hunger.

"Alright, I'll get all of them for you," James nodded, and stood to look through the suitcases. The train gently started moving and James fell back into his seat as it did with a grunt. The children laughed as he glared at them comically. He shook his head as he stood again and turned to the shelves with their suitcases. He rummaged through them and gave the boys their journals and pens to use.

"What should we write about, Uncle Jim?" George asked and James and Peter looked at each other with smiles.

"Anything you'd like, George," James replied.

"Help me Uncle Jim, I can't write properly," Michael sulked and James smiled at him.

"Alright, lad," he said, holding his arms out. "Come here." He set the boy on his lap and helped him as the train gained speed for Glasgow.

A/N: well, did i do ok? reviews?