A/N: This story is based on the TV movie Rescue From Gilligan's Island. Yes, that clunker. Although it does have its moments of awesomeness. But- what's this about Mary Ann having a fiance who waited fifteen years?

Mary Ann never mentioned a fiance in the whole of the TV series. Not once, not ever. And there she was declaring it to all and sundry the minute they were rescued. Well, she kept that quiet!

We all know there's only one man for Mary Ann, and that's Gilligan. So I'm totally writing my own version of events, and throwing in some Good Lovin' just to seal the deal.

Just a couple of other things. In my story Gilligan wears his hat from the series. It's a different hat. It's the Gilligan hat. The one in the movie could have been worn by anyone. I'm a stickler for the small details. Another thing- there is only one Ginger Grant, and that's Tina Louise. So in this story, it's original Ginger.

Finally, the part at the end where they talk about flying, credit must go to the author JWood201 for her story At The End Of The World, in which Gilligan takes Mary Ann vine swinging and teaches her to fly. Thanks for letting me use it. You're a good friend, and a truly exceptional writer.

Rescue Me

The castaways were the talk of the town- indeed, the whole of Hawaii and half of America went castaway crazy as the little ragtag bunch returned home to a rousing welcome. Ticker tape parades, TV reporters, hordes of women in bikini tops and grass skirts placing leis over their heads and kissing them on the cheek. They had never seen anything like it. The Skipper lapped up the attention. He shook hands left right and centre, wrote autographs for kids like a big, kindly uncle, all smiles and bear hugs. Ginger posed and pouted for the cameras, the likes of which she'd never seen before. So many people clamouring for her attention! The Professor looked mildly embarrassed at all the fuss, but he ran his fingers through his hair and had his photo taken with 'hot chicks', as the young ladies appeared to be known as these days.

1978. Where on Earth had the time gone? So much had changed. It was almost overwhelming. Mary Ann found herself swept up in a tide of humanity, all trying to touch her, smile at her, older women cooing at her and clasping their hands under their chins. Isn't she pretty? Fifteen years they were on that awful desert island and she doesn't look a day over 25!

Mr. and Mrs. Howell treated the whole ceremony as though it were an event on the Social Calendar. Mrs. Howell came alive, twirling her parasol and giggling coquettishly at one slick TV reporter after another. Oh, well, you know, at first it was dreadful! Simply dreadful. But as time went on...

It became even more dreadful! Her husband interrupted, and the two of them chortled heartily while the TV reporter, delighted at grabbing a soundbite, smiled wryly into the camera.

A flash of red and white off to her left drew Mary Ann's attention away from the gaggle of seniors crowding around her. She suddenly realised how trained her eyes had become to that particular colour combination. She stood on tiptoes, edging this way and that to get a better look around the blue-rinsed hairdos and plastic sun hats.

Gilligan. There he was, laughing his head off in a state of hyper activity, jostled between the Skipper and the Professor who both appeared to be hovering close to him in case he got sucked into the crowd. In case someone snatched him away. Gilligan was not a child, but in this astonishing tsunami like crowd he was vulnerable to suggestion, ready to believe anything. Mary Ann was no raging cynic, but this wasn't 1963 anymore. People were pulling at their sleeves, coming right up to their faces. It was breathlessly exciting, awe-inspiring, that so many people should have turned out to see them. Please be safe, Gilligan! She found herself thinking.

After the initial excitement, the rest of the day passed in a blur. Gilligan blithely told a reporter they were all going to go their separate ways. When she heard that (and the casual way in which he'd said it, as though it were inevitable), Mary Ann's heart dropped. She felt faint suddenly, but she hid it well. She had enough in her own head to think about now she was back in civilisation. Something she'd practically forgotten about during the fifteen years she'd been 'away'. Something...someone...she didn't really want to remember.

Herbert Rucker.

Herbert Rucker would still be waiting. She knew this. Herbert Rucker was a man who clung on. A plodder. She couldn't remember why she'd agreed to marry him in the first place. It sure wasn't because she was in love with him. Perhaps there was a time when he'd offered her a safe, stable future. In farming. In keeping with tradition. Well, it was too late to take up old traditions. Too late for stable futures now. Not unless you were a horse! She'd spent fifteen years in the most unstable conditions she could imagine, and she couldn't bear the thought of the kind of unadventurous life that Herbert Rucker was offering her.

Not with a man like him around. With his rumpled red shirt and that old hat that made him a landmark in any crowd. Would Herbert Rucker ever take her butterfly hunting? She didn't think so. Herbert Rucker was immune to the delicate beauty of new wings unfolding. Herbert Rucker would just call Rentokil.

The hotel that the castaways were put into for their first night home was truly sumptuous. Plush carpets, original works of art. (Was that a Dubov hanging in Reception?) The Howells were delighted. Especially Mr. Howell, when he heard that the Bar stayed open until 2am.

Phone calls were made. Everyone rang their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins, and anyone else they could think of. Skipper produced a 'Little Black Book' and said he couldn't wait to 'look up some old friends'. Ginger called her agent. Mary Ann spent over an hour sobbing and crying down the phone to Aunt Martha while Aunt Martha sobbed and cried down the phone to her. My baby, my baby. We never lost hope. Gilligan called his mother and she cried too. His brother said I want my shirt back! and then told him that Skinny Mulligan and Florence Oppenheimer had been married ten years and had three children, all boys, and that they'd named the eldest son William. Gilligan put the phone down and wandered around in a daze, unable to stop grinning for hours.

There was a lull in the activity around 6pm, when everyone went to their respective suites to try and relax, get used to what was happening to them. They all did the same things but in different rooms. They flopped down on soft, thick, springy mattresses for the first time in fifteen years. To be able to sleep lying flat out and not curled awkwardly in a hammock! They played with the television. Colour pictures! They switched the lights on and off. Laughed at their ability to make things happen so easily. Electricity! Hot and cold running water! Flushing toilets! What luxury! The cloying fragrance of Lux soap. Fluffy white towels. Real toothpaste. They let hot water run in their baths until they couldn't see through the steam. Ginger made herself a bubble bath. Mary Ann did the same, wallowing among the thick, snowy mountains. Gilligan wrote his own name on his bathroom mirror and watched, enraptured, as the condensation trickled down from each letter as though it were crying. With happiness. Happiness at being rescued!

At 7.30pm they all gathered for dinner in the sumptuous Dining Hall. They stared at each other, mesmerised. It was so strange seeing each other away from the island, the men all pink-cheeked from shaving. Hair washed and gleaming. A little intimidated, minding their manners. Where was the bamboo table, where were the coconut cups? The trees swaying overhead and the night insects chirping and buzzing while they ate their evening meal? Instead Mary Ann found herself staring at the gleaming silverware, the sparkling crystal wine glasses. The immaculate place settings. She realised her mouth was open and she shut it quickly.

"Hi."

The voice, as familiar to her as her own, nevertheless made her jump 3ft in the air.

"Gilligan!" she cried, pretending to be annoyed, but in the next minute wrapping her arms around his neck, delighted when he hugged her back. He smelled of soap and she breathed him in. He was clearly still very excited about the day's events, and a little disoriented if the look on his face was anything to go by. Surely he hadn't been sampling the mini-bar in his room already?

"Hi, Mary Ann. What did you think of your room? Mine was like the Hotel Ritz or something!"

Mary Ann laughed. "Gilligan, this is the Hotel Ritz."

"Oh. I guess that explains it then!" He grinned broadly. Gilligan's grin was still goofy, even after all these years. It still suited him, still made him handsomer than any other man in the room. And he was still so unaware of it.

He'd washed and combed his unruly hair, which had grown over his ears and needed cutting. His head was bare, but the hat was poking out of his pocket, just as Mary Ann knew it would be. He was still in his red rugby shirt and jeans, but someone had lent him a dinner jacket. He looked smart, for once. He looked almost grown-up.

Mary Ann blushed slightly, realising that she'd been looking at him a little too intently. But he was also looking at her, and she wondered what he was thinking.

"Mary Ann, would you sit next to me?" he asked in a low voice, leaning down to speak into her ear. She shivered as his breath tickled her cheek. "Only, I'm a little worried I'll break something or use the wrong spoon or not recognise a fish knife. I mean, I could sit next to Mrs. Howell, but..."

"Of course I'll sit next to you," Mary Ann said quickly. "You don't have to worry about a thing."

Dinner went smoothly, although Mary Ann's concentration wandered all over the place as everyone chattered around her. Ginger was being fawned all over by obsequious male waiters. Earlier, the actress had swanned into the Dining Hall accompanied by a tanned, handsome tuxedoed stranger who had then promptly done a mysterious vanishing act, artfully leaving her to be the Main Attraction. Ginger was so happy to have been rescued that she sparkled and shone with an inner radiance Mary Ann had never seen before. Poor Ginger. Fifteen years out of the limelight and it was apparent that she still craved it more than anything. She was still a little girl lost.

Gilligan peppered the air with his own observations when his mouth wasn't full of food. I sure could have done with a steak. I wish I had some French fries to go with this. I don't really like this sauce. Do you think they'd bring me some ketchup if I asked? Are you meant to eat this green stuff? It looks like grass. Which knife should I use? What's this brown stuff? What's this yellow stuff? Can I have some more wine? Why not? I'm not drunk. I don't drink! Wine's a drink? Oh, okay. A beer then. Is there pie for dessert? I bet it's not as good as Mary Ann's pie.

Mary Ann had never been so happy to hear Gilligan babbling away. She helped him with his cutlery. She took the stuff off his plate that he didn't like. She chatted back to him, even when he seemed not to be listening. She watched him hold food in one side of his mouth and talk around it, making it look like an art form instead of a disgusting habit. She wondered how she was going to get used to the silence once he was out of her life.

Gilligan, out of her life? The thought depressed her. She really didn't want to think about it at all.

"Hey, everyone! Let's have a party up in my room!"

The other castaways (or ex-castaways, as they were now) looked at Gilligan with varying stages of amusement over their after-dinner coffee and liqueurs. Gilligan had sneaked himself a glass of wine and was a bit tipsy. His eyes shone. He looked as though he'd just come up with the best idea the world had ever seen.

"Come on! It'll be fun. It's a hotel, right? We can have them send champagne and potato chips and anything else we want. They can do that. I checked." Gilligan looked immensely smug and proud of himself.

"Why, Gilligan. Are you suggesting we take full advantage of our hosts' hospitality?" the Skipper said, looking back at Gilligan like a co-conspirator.

"Uh-huh," Gilligan replied, nodding.

"I think it's a great idea!" Mary Ann grinned. "I really do! A party in Gilligan's room!"

"Yeah!" Gilligan shouted, already hyper. "A party in Gilligan's room!"

True to his word, Gilligan spent ages on the phone ordering champagne and snacks and other party food from Room Service. He had discarded his borrowed dinner jacket and his beloved hat was back on his head, putting paid to his neatly combed hairstyle. He sat on the edge of the bed and waved everyone in as they all began appearing one by one, peering through the door he'd left cracked open so he wouldn't have to interrupt himself mid flow. The Skipper arrived first, bringing a couple of 'lady friends' he'd been chatting to earlier in the bar. Gilligan's eyes bulged at the length of the slit in the redhead's evening gown. He didn't think Ginger would be happy with the competition, but when Ginger arrived she was with a young blond man and didn't even seem to notice the other women milling about as she laughed throatily and rubbed herself on her young friend like a cat.

The Howells turned up bearing gifts of more champagne and a bottle of scotch. The Professor appeared, trying to slink in unnoticed. Gilligan, still on the phone, watched the cobalt eyes of the Skipper's blonde friend light up when she saw him.

When Mary Ann finally arrived, alone, Gilligan decided he'd done enough ordering. He thanked the poor, beleaguered man on the other end of the phone and replaced the receiver in its cradle. He stood up from the bed and went over to her, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"You came alone," he said.

"Was I meant to bring guests?" she asked, noticing that there were indeed, strangers in the room.

"No, no. I'm glad you didn't. Um, I don't mean I'm glad that you came alone..."

Mary Ann smiled and put her hand on his arm. "But I'm not alone, Gilligan. You're here."

"Okay. I'll be your guest, Mary Ann," he grinned.

"Gilligan," Mary Ann laughed, "it's your party."

The party quickly turned lively, seeing as half the guests were already in their cups when they arrived. The Skipper knocked back the Howells' scotch, regaling everyone with trumped up tales of his own heroics on the island. Gilligan interjected loudly, hey! That's not the way it happened! to peals of laughter from the women. At one point Ginger wiggled her way across the room and backed Gilligan into a corner. As he squirmed and blushed, she rubbed herself sinuously against him and then kissed him full on the mouth, causing everyone (except Mrs. Howell, who was far too polite and had already turned her face away) to whoop and cheer and count the seconds as they passed. Ginger's vamping of Gilligan had acquired a legendary status of its own over the years, and Ginger was more than happy to live up to expectations. Gilligan, knowing what was required of him, squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, kept his hands at his sides and waited passively for the ordeal to be over. Counting the seconds in his head for very different reasons.

When Ginger finally released him, everyone cheered. Gilligan opened his eyes and looked dazed. The first person he saw was Mary Ann. With that pleading look on his face, it was all she could do to stop herself from running across the room and kissing him herself. Why should Ginger have all the fun?

The Skipper's blonde lady friend had laid claim to the Professor, who seemed quite happy in her company until Ginger decided her own young companion wasn't the right man for the job and began putting the moves on her longtime secret love.

Mr. Howell and Lovey finally decided it was time for them to retire gracefully. Mary Ann wondered if Mr. Howell wanted to go back downstairs to the Casino, where the people might be more their type, and he might win a bit of loose change, say $50,000 or so. Mrs. Howell kissed all the girls on their cheeks, even the Skipper's friends. She embraced Mary Ann tightly, and did the same to Gilligan. You children behave yourselves now! Was her enigmatic parting shot.

The Howells disappeared, and the party got noisier. The Skipper was now halfway down the bottle of scotch, (which Lovey had to persuade Thurston to leave behind), and the Professor was trying to explain how his irrigation system on the island had worked while Ginger sat on his lap, her arms wound tightly around his neck, purring seductively into his ear.

The next people to leave were Ginger's original friend, the young blond man, and the Skipper's redhead friend with the slit in her dress that went right up to her navel. From the look in his eye, the young man clearly wanted to see what else was under her dress. With his arm firmly around her waist, he bade goodbye to everyone. Gilligan waved goodbye, thanked them both for coming to his party. Ginger hardly even noticed.

Finally, the blonde, realising there was now no hope for her with the Professor, excused herself to go to the bathroom and then darted out of the door, never to be seen again. This left the five remaining castaways in the room on their own. It was now 1.30am.

Gilligan grabbed a bottle of champagne and proposed a toast. They toasted being rescued. They toasted the hotel. They toasted the island. They toasted the Howells. They toasted the people who had just left. Gilligan toasted the ice cream cone he'd eaten almost as soon as he'd stepped off the hutsboat. Mary Ann toasted Gilligan. Gilligan toasted the Skipper. The Skipper, three sheets to the wind and hard to starboard, looked as if he was going to cry. Ginger put her tongue in the Professor's ear. Gilligan fell off the edge of the bed.

Mary Ann went to the bathroom and as she washed her hands she looked up and saw on the mirror the faint lines where Gilligan had written his name in the condensation. G I L L i G a N. Something about those upper and lower case letters all mixed together brought tears to her eyes. Oh, stop it, she told herself. You're probably giddy on champagne...

Ginger persuaded the Professor that it was time to go. She said she was tired, but there was no doubt whatsoever that sleep was the last thing on her mind. The Professor got up, looking slightly worried, yet strangely pleased with himself. Ginger came over and hugged Mary Ann warmly and genuinely.

"Mary Ann, I love you like a sister," she told the younger woman. "We'll stay in touch, I promise. You'll have to come out to Hollywood and visit me!"

"Ginger, I'll see you at breakfast," Mary Ann laughed, hugging her back.

"Ssh," The movie star laughed back. "Don't ruin my dramatic, emotional exit."

Then Ginger embraced Gilligan, who squirmed as usual, before relenting and hugging her too. She purred her approval.

"Dear, sweet, Gilligan. I wish I'd been the one to turn you into a man," she giggled naughtily.

"What are you talking about, Ginger? I'm a man," Gilligan replied, blinking through a haze of alcohol.

"That's not what I meant,"Ginger chuckled, but she didn't explain further, leaving Gilligan standing there wearing a look of puzzled confusion.

The Professor hugged and kissed Mary Ann and gave Gilligan one of those hearty man hugs that included a firm shake of the hand. Gilligan grinned widely.

"Stay cool, Professor," he said. He was already picking up new lingo.

Watching Ginger and the Professor leave together and realising that he was about to become a third wheel, the Skipper also got to his feet, staggering slightly. He was a big man who could handle his drink, but the strength of Mr. Howell's scotch had apparently blindsided him.

"I need my bed," he declared."I think I could sleep for a week, with all the excitement we've had today!" He hugged Mary Ann tightly, swinging her around until she squealed. Then he grabbed Gilligan and swept him into a powerful embrace, ignoring Gilligan's muted squeaks as the breath was squeezed out of him. "See you in the morning, Little Buddy," he said, and Mary Ann felt a twinge of envy that the Skipper and Gilligan weren't going their separate ways from each other. The Skipper had plans for another boat. He'd decided he was going to operate charter tours again, and everyone was delighted that his previous experiences hadn't dampened his enthusiasm for the life of a sailing man.

With the departure of the Skipper, who hit the door frame twice on his way out he was so inebriated, Mary Ann and Gilligan looked at each other and realised they were the only two people left in the room. Mary Ann immediately began bustling about, throwing empty potato chip bags in the waste basket and tidying up the empty and half full bottles that littered almost every flat surface, including in the bathroom. Keep busy, she told herself. Maybe he won't ask you if you're going to leave.

"Boy. Skipper sure was drunk," Gilligan giggled. "Did you see that pile of potato chips stuck to his..." he giggled even more and pointed behind himself.

Mary Ann swept crumbs from the dresser and nodded. "He'll wonder about that big grease stain in the morning!"

"That was some party though, huh, Mary Ann? That's the first Room Party In A Hotel I've ever thrown. And everybody came!" Gilligan grabbed an opened bottle of champagne and drained it into his glass. "A toast!" he said, lifting it into the air. "To my first Room Party In A Hotel!" With that, he chugged the champagne and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, blinking as bubbles caught in his nose and made his eyes water. "Ow! That smarts."

"I declare your first Room Party In A Hotel a success!" laughed Mary Ann, letting him pour the contents of another half full bottle into a glass so that she could toast him too. They clinked glasses and necked the champagne, both spluttering and laughing as the bubbles hit.

Gilligan put his glass down with a clatter and began pulling off his sneakers. He put one hand on Mary Ann's shoulder as he struggled, precariously balanced on one foot.

"Gilligan, what are you doing?" Mary Ann laughed, trying to steady him before he pulled them both over.

"I'm going to jump on the bed," he told her, windmilling his arm and throwing one shoe high into the air, where it hit the ceiling with a loud thump.

"Gilligan! There are probably people upstairs!" Mary Ann giggled. She grabbed at the shoe that was in his other hand ready for launching. They wrestled with it for a bit, and then Gilligan stuck his tongue out and let go of the shoe, already bored of that game. He ran over to the bed and leapt up onto it and began jumping up and down on the springy mattress, laughing and giggling. The bed squeaked and protested. Mary Ann wondered what on Earth their neighbours were going to think they were doing.

"Mary Ann, this is fun! Come on, you should try it!"

She had to admit, he was making it look fun. She felt silly at first, but as she kicked off her own shoes, her eyes never leaving his jumping form, she began to feel deliciously naughty. She clambered up onto the bed and began jumping up and down, at first out of synch, and then in synch, and then out of synch again. Gilligan's laugh was very infectious, and soon she was in fits of giggles. She swatted at his arms when he tried to play fight with her. She knew what Gilligan was like when he got over excited.

"I don't think I've jumped on a bed since I was six years old," she grinned, already out of breath, her carefully coiffed hairstyle now tumbling around her face and neck as she bounced up and down beside him.

"I was always jumping on my bed," Gilligan replied, his voice as up and down and bouncy as he was. "That's the other thing about hammocks- you can't jump on 'em!"

Mary Ann soon tired. She stopped jumping and flopped onto the bed on her back, laughing and gasping for air. Gilligan carried on jumping, trying to lift her body off the bed with every bounce.

"Im gonna make you fly!" he declared.

"Gilligan, this is worse than being at sea!" she cried, flapping her hand at his legs. "Stop! Please! I can't fly now! Not after all that champagne!"

"Chicken!" he said.

"Precisely!" she retorted. "And chickens can't fly either!"

Finally he stopped bouncing, his neck all red from exertion, puffing and gasping. He staggered slightly and almost fell off the bed before he finally flopped down next to her, long legs stretched out, nearly reaching the end of the bed. "Oh, boy! I'm pooped!" he declared.

Mary Ann watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. She swatted his arm with the back of her hand. "Gilligan," she said, blushing.

"Hmm?" he turned his head and looked at her sideways. His face was shining, his eyes bright. The windows to his soul.

"Look where we are."

"We're in my hotel room," Gilligan replied.

"Yes? And?"

"We're..." he raised just his head, peered at their surroundings. The sheets and blankets were completely dishevelled. "Um...we're on the bed."

Mary Ann smiled and nodded. "Yes, we are. We're on the bed. Together."

"Oh." His eyes widened as the realisation hit. "Oops."

"What would Mrs. Howell say?" Mary Ann giggled, then fell silent. His proximity was starting to do strange things to her.

They stared at each other, their heads just a few inches apart. Gilligan blinked and swallowed hard. Mary Ann, wracked with nerves, angled her body slightly towards his. He noticed the movement and let his eyes travel down her body. Her skirt had rumpled up and her legs were tanned and bare. Suddenly scared, he jumped up into a sitting position and attempted an escape route.

"Hey, Mary Ann? Wanna have a pillow fight?"

Mary Ann smiled. She knew he'd try something like this. "No, Gilligan, I don't want to have a pillow fight."

"Aw, come on! It'll be fun. Just like the jumping was fun!"

But he had barely reached around for a pillow before Mary Ann lifted the fingers of one hand to the front of his rugby shirt and pulled him gently back towards her. To her amazement, his blustering seemed to be just that, and after only a little resistance he moved close to her without a fuss, lowering himself onto one elbow.

"Gilligan. I don't want a pillow fight," she murmured softly, running her hand gently over his face, which was now just millimeters away from hers. "Don't you understand?"

Gilligan sighed, an almost involuntary sound that caught her by surprise.

"I guess I don't either," he admitted, and closed his eyes.

When their lips met, Mary Ann felt all the champagne bubbles explode in her brain like little tiny fireworks one after the other. She kissed him gently, aware of his hesitation, his nervousness around women- but to her surprise- and delight- it wasn't long before he began kissing her back, and then his arms were around her, holding her tightly, and then he manoeuvred himself so that he was half on and half off her, and they kept kissing and kissing and kissing, and when Gilligan finally stopped kissing her, he lifted his head away from hers and stared at her through glassy eyes, as though he wasn't altogether sure what had just happened.

"Wow," he said at last.

"Wow," Mary Ann nodded, catching her breath.

"What did you just do?" his voice caught and broke on the last word.

"Me? What did you just do?"

"I just did what you did!"

"Well, then I just did what you did!"

They stared at each other some more. Mary Ann could barely think straight. Her lips tingled and buzzed, aching to be kissed again. She raised her head and he instinctively pulled back, eyeing her with suspicion. But something stopped him from resisting further. She caught a look in his eye, some conflict that was trying to resolve itself, and then before she knew it they were kissing again, and this time it was Gilligan who took the lead, his mouth clamped onto hers, pressing her into the mattress, holding himself over her, one arm around her shoulders while the other hand began stroking her torso, avoiding any contact with her breasts, which just made her yearn even more for him to touch them.

Mary Ann wriggled under him, pulling him down. She wanted his full weight on top of her, and she was no longer ashamed to admit to herself just how much she wanted him. She wanted Gilligan. She had wanted Gilligan for fifteen years, and she knew there had been a time when he wanted her too. He just didn't know it. He thought women scared him, but it was really his own emotions that scared him the most. Mary Ann knew that one day he'd realise what he'd been missing. And it looked as though that day had come at last.

Gilligan was murmuring her name, lying atop her with his hands all over her, his mouth working away at hers, his hips pressing into her, and she knew he wanted her, she could feel it. She arched her own hips upwards- an instinctive move. His soft groan warmed her lips and she did it again, and he gasped, lifting himself off her, reaching for the front of his jeans, adjusting them for comfort. He kissed her harder, moaning deeply when she trailed the tip of her tongue across his lips, winding it into his mouth. The kiss became wet, passionate. Ardour rose in both of them like a monster that had lain dormant for fifteen years.

Suddenly he pulled away. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed over.

"Mary Ann, what about your fiance?" His voice was husky, unlike anything she'd ever heard.

Her whole body tingled. "Please, let's not talk about him," she murmured, kissing Gilligan's neck.

"But...Mary Ann, you're getting married! We can't do this!"

Mary Ann sighed. Her heart sank. She knew she owed Gilligan an explanation. She took a deep breath and composed herself. She looked into his eyes, hoping he would understand. "I realised a long time ago that I don't love him, Gilligan. How can I, after fifteen years of being away? I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. Whereas you..." She lifted her fingers to his lips, wanting nothing but to kiss him again, to stop the questions and to feel that delicious fiery tingle coursing through her body. "You're the sweetest, most wonderful man I've ever met."

"But...if you don't love him then why are you still gonna marry him?" Gilligan looked like his old self now. Confused.

"Because, Gilligan, it's not just up to me. There are so many other people involved. I can't ruin everyone's Big Day. Everything's already been arranged!" She felt weak for saying it, but she didn't know how to put it any other way.

Did that make her a coward?

Gilligan's expression turned sad. "I think it is up to you," he said. "It's your life."

Mary Ann sighed. "I made promises, Gilligan. And I can't disappoint people. They have lives, too."

He looked into her eyes, tried to reassure her. "You don't disappoint people. And other peoples' lives are theirs, not yours. And if you don't love him, then you shouldn't marry him."

Mary Ann felt her eyes prickle with tears. "I know one thing, Gilligan. I know I don't want to save myself for him. I don't want him to be my first. Because you never forget your first, and there's only one man I don't ever want to forget. And that's you."

Gilligan gulped audibly. "Your first?" he squeaked. "Your first what?"

She ran her hand down his chest and over his stomach, feeling him pull it in.

"My first lover," she whispered.

His eyes grew wide as saucers. "Mary Ann! I can't..."

She silenced him with a kiss, deep and lingering. When it ended, she could see he was seriously thinking about it.

"Please, Gilligan. We may not ever see each other again after tonight. We're home now. We're all going back to our old lives. Other people are going to start taking up all our time. I lived with you for fifteen years...well, you and five other people. I'll miss you. I'm all set to marry a man I don't love, and if I give myself to him I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life." Tears ran unbidden down her cheeks. She lifted her hand to wipe them away but Gilligan got there first. He used the end of his sleeve, and then he put his lips to her face and tasted them. They were salty and full of sadness.

"Gilligan, you're the one I want to remember forever. What I want to give to you is precious- the most precious thing I own, and I don't want to give it to a man I don't love. I want to give it to you. Because I...because I know you'll cherish it and keep it safe." Mary Ann kissed his face, his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, desperate for him to understand. "Please?"

He nodded. "You're the most special friend I ever had, Mary Ann," he said quietly. "I'd do anything for you. You know that. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," she said softly. "And I won't let you get hurt either."

They undressed each other slowly and with wonder. One by one, hidden treasures were brought to light more wondrous than any voodoo relic they'd ever found in a cave. Gilligan, encouraged by Mary Ann, put his lips everywhere. Her neck, her shoulders, her stomach, the places where her hip bones hinted beneath her soft round flesh. The small dip of her navel. He rose up again and kissed her breasts, treating each one like a precious object. She kissed the top of his head, rubbed her face in his thick, dark hair, relishing the smell of his scalp and the faint lingering aroma of shampoo. She swore she could still smell the jungle on him. Years of eating coconuts, bananas and pineapples had made him sweet.

Even sweeter than he already was.

When finally they made love, it was everything Mary Ann had ever hoped it would be. He was agile, bearing his weight on his elbows, and then up onto his hands, lifting himself carefully into position. His hair hung in his eyes, which were half-shut with longing. He moved into her, very slowly, very gently, taking her moans and sighs as a cue to stop or keep going. He kissed her as he entered her, reassuring her that everything was all right. Briefly she wondered if Gilligan had ever done this before. The castaways were all convinced he was a virgin. They had decided it long ago because of his awkwardness and fear of girls. How the laugh would be on them if all along he possessed more experience than they realised!

She clutched at his shoulders, bringing him down on top of her. She needed him close, as close as humanly possible. She wanted her pores to open against his pores, transferring the essence of her into him so that he could carry her around inside him forever. She wanted to cry, and laugh, and scream and shout. She wanted him forever. She couldn't cope with the intensity of it.

The bed creaked and creaked, a hypnotic, rhythmic sound that beat in time with her heart, her gasps, her soft sighs of pleasure. Gilligan uttered words of love and endearment, calling her a butterfly, a flower, a jewel, a princess, an angel. She marvelled at his ability to make her feel like the woman she had always wanted to be. Strong and passionate and loving and giving. A woman capable of anything. I am Woman. Hear me roar!

Their bodies became sweaty, heat rising off them in waves. She breathed it in, her mouth now open and gasping loudly. This is what being on a runaway train must feel like...

A crashing, electric wave of intense sensations hit both of them at once. Mary Ann bit down hard on her lip, stifling the urge to scream out loud. Gilligan shuddered, uttering a soft moan into her ear. Afterwards they lay trembling in each other's arms. Gilligan's legs were shaking, his whole body uncoiling like a wound spring. His hair was soaked with sweat that trickled down his face. She felt him twitch between her legs, and a few moments later she felt him leave her, and she was sad that he was gone.

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

She ran her hands over his back, featherlight touches that made his skin jump. She breathed deeply. The memory of his smell would keep her going. One day she'd be toiling in a field somewhere and she would scent him on the breeze. Musky, woody, like a rain drenched forest in the Fall.

He mumbled something in her ear. She couldn't quite make it out. She kissed his temple and encouraged him to repeat what he'd said. He lifted his head and broke her heart with the look on his face.

"I said 'I love you, Mary Ann'," he smiled, and it was true- she could see it in his eyes.

Her heart soared. Suddenly she was twenty years old again, back in the beautiful ravine on the island, swinging on vines with Gilligan's arms wrapped protectively around her. Laughing without a care in the world. You won't fall Mary Ann. Not while I'm here.

Gilligan. The man who had taught her how to fly.

Mary Ann realised then that there was no way she would marry Herbert Rucker now. No way on God's Green Earth. Not after this. She felt liberated, as if there was a brand new future in front of her, a future that was only now being written, a future as daunting and as unknown as the island they'd shared for fifteen years. A new future, with the man she had always wanted. The right man. And suddenly she felt happier than she had ever felt in her life. She had made her decision. It was time to step out into the world and be strong.

"I love you too, Gilligan," she whispered. "And I am not going to marry Herbert Rucker."