Backward Fantasy

Fantasy Island/Emergency Crossover

I do not own the copyrights to either show

Ghostwriter85

A/N: Because of being in middle of a move, I have not had access to a beta reader. Therefore, I hope I have not made too many errors. Also, this story came about because of a list given to me by retro mania. It wasn't on their list, well sort of- going back in to time was, just not TV land ;D. And it was the nineteen fifties. Still thank-you for the ideas, it helped get this going.

A/N 2: I honestly don't' know if William E. Henly lived or died in 1875; if anyone knows feel free to tell me.

Backwards Request

Scene 1

'I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul' I was told that was spoken by William Ernest Henley by a high school English teacher; whether or not he was born, or died, in 1875 is something she did not say. And if one had asked if I'd ever known the man the answer would have been a honest no. Also, I have not ever bothered looking it up either. Truth be told I hadn't thought about that particular quote in years, now…with Dr. Early's words still ringing in my ears… they come back.

"Captain of my soul I may be, but it sure feels as the helm has just been ripped out of my hands." Roark quit his silence musing as he growled and tossed a piece of paper into a nearby trash can only to have it fall out as Tattoo had not dumped it that morning like he was supposed to.

The reason for Roark's foul mood was because of the current letter asking for a fantasy was not coming from the traditional guest. And the man making that request had not been satisfied with the formal denial via a rubber-stamped letter. It had been such a refusal which had brought the good doctor to his office last night.

"Roark, I'm too old to play games." Dr. Early chose his words carefully knowing he wasn't supposed to have figured out how to get to Fantasy Island, let alone write Roark a letter. "My wife died years ago, the only son I was blessed with was killed two years ago, and now I have a nephew who has the nerve to think I should roll over and play dead just because I turned sixty." The good doctor wanted to, uncharacteristically to throw a breakable item, anything, against the wall, but he didn't. "I just want a young, legal and lawful, wife for seven days to show him I'm nowhere near ready to die. It will also be long enough to file a prenuptial, one so airtight that the best lawyer in town couldn't find a loophole, and give her what I don't want that so called relation of mine to have; he's an idiot. She'll get it after a week when I'll conveniently decide I was a fool for thinking love would find me a second time around." Joe threw out his own hands towards Roark's direction and shook them just enough to show his own frustration, "Look, it's not like I'm asking you to rob the cradle in order to do it. As long as she's anywhere from 21-30 I'm perfectly okay with anyone you choose. Is that too much to ask?"

"I'm supposed to send guests from this realm your way because of their requests, not the other way around. This would be a backwards fantasy. Besides, what gives your nephew the idea you're loaded? I happen to know you don't live in some ritzy mansion. And it's not like anyone who saw you sitting in your front yard would suspect you have having an occupation that was so high paying by simply looking at you." It was true, Joe didn't dress in fancy suits, nor had he bought expensive lawn furnishings for the new house he'd recently purchased.

"So, when it comes to the realm thing… find someone here whose fantasy would fit mine and send them my way. I'll go home; problem fixed. And as to my nephew, like I already stated…he's a fool." Joe had stood up, but had refused to budge until Roark finally consented to find the doctor a temporary wife.

"What a mess." Roark stood up and walked to the window with his hands clasped behind hs back. "Find someone whose fantasy matches his, sure, and when does he expect that?" The magistrate hadn't had anyone wanting to hook up with any character since the lady hooked far too much on the book Wuthering Heights. He didn't count the woman wanting to meet Shakespeare; she'd not had any love interest there.

Tattoo had been flirting with a couple of island girls, nothing new there either. Roark did not even consider asking the native females simply because they had no clue who Joe Early was. Besides, they both had island men who were beginning to show interest. He'd not insult their intelligence. Sighing he unclasped his hands and went to sit down behind his desk; tapping is pencil so much that it drove Tattoo –who entered the room shortly thereafter, so crazy he had to leave because his boss would, or could, not stop.