A/N: Final chapter, folks. Thank you so much for sticking with this little story to the end!
Skipper awoke the morning after the Splashy Party with mixed feelings. He lay in the lower sack rubbing his stubbly cheeks, thinking about events the night before. How he'd enjoyed dancing with wild abandon, laughing and hugging his fellow castaways, throwing caution to the wind. And how he'd kept looking up at the moon's benign smile, hoping against hope that the little dolphin wasn't lonely out there all on his own while they were carousing and celebrating. He hoped the moon didn't think it was selfish for them to be enjoying themselves while Splashy was on his mission to get them rescued. He hoped the moon understood that sometimes you did what you had to do.
Skipper rolled out of his hammock and stood up, swaying momentarily as the blood rushed from his head. "I don't have a hangover," he muttered. "Gilligan, on the other hand..."
Gilligan was still fast asleep, curled on his side with his pillow clutched tightly to his chest, his hat pulled down firmly over his face. The normally shy first mate had danced long into the night. After Mary Ann had become exhausted by the constant twirling he whisked Ginger out of the Professor's arms, and then when he'd finished spinning the movie star around and around he'd attempted to waltz with Mrs. Howell, who, taking one look at his wild, excited eyes, admonished him gently and told him she thought it was high time he sat this one out. Unoffended by her refusal, Gilligan had then staggered over to the table and promptly fallen asleep with his head on his arms, ending the night by being carried to his hammock by the Skipper, whilst snoring loudly.
The Skipper exited the hut to see that Mary Ann was already awake and up. The table and its surrounding areas were strewn with dirty cups and plates, remnants of food uneaten, wilting hibiscus and other party debris. The sand was all displaced, their temporary dance floor having served its purpose as the location for last night's bacchanalia. Mary Ann was standing in the middle of the chaos, her hands planted firmly on her hips.
"Don't worry about all that, Mary Ann." Skipper jerked his thumb back towards the hut. "I'll get Sleeping Beauty to do it when he wakes up."
"And when do you think that will that be?" Mary Ann smiled.
"Three o'clock this afternoon, if he's as hungover as I think he is," Skipper laughed.
Mary Ann laughed too, soft and girlish. "I really don't think I can stand to look at this mess for that long."
"All right then, let me give you a hand, as soon as I get back."
"Get back?" said Mary Ann. "Oh, of course, I think I know exactly where you're going. Down to the lagoon." She smiled at him while she began stacking dirty dishes on the table.
"Of course. After all, who knows? Splashy might have returned in the night."
"Well, if he did, he came back on his own. I can't hear any signs of visitors."
"Doesn't hurt to check, though. Right?"
"Of course, Skipper. It doesn't hurt to check."
But the lagoon was quiet. Nary a ripple marred its surface, except for the occasional insect being eaten by the occasional fish. The Skipper walked up and down the shore, craning his neck to see around the bend, but there was no sign of Splashy. No sign of his other little buddy, no flashes of sleek dolphin body, no sounds of happy squeaking.
The Skipper sighed.
"Nothing?" came Mary Ann's voice behind him, startling him for a moment. "I got a little curious myself," she said, coming over to stand beside him.
"Nothing," the Skipper replied, shaking his head.
"Well, don't lose heart, Skipper. After all, he only left yesterday."
"I know, but..." the Skipper stared mournfully out across the water, "...sometimes I wish he hadn't left at all."
"I know you're sad, Skipper," said Mary Ann, "but imagine how you'll feel when a boat comes? Imagine how you'll feel going home at last?"
"Is my happiness worth more than the fate of my little buddy?" the Skipper said, sighing heavily for the umpteenth time.
"Gilligan?"
"No. My other little buddy. Splashy."
"That's a hard question to answer," said the farm girl, becoming pensive.
"We want so much to be rescued, Mary Ann, but we're not doing so badly here, are we? We have plenty of food and fresh water and roofs over our heads...well, most of the time, unless it storms and Gilligan hasn't nailed them down properly. And yet look at us- we're quite prepared to send someone else off into the great unknown just because we so desperately want to get away from here. To put someone else in peril just because we're selfish."
"It's not selfish to want to go home, Skipper. And we haven't put anyone in peril. We've sent a dolphin back where he belongs. If anything, we've helped Splashy to go home. We haven't been selfish at all."
"I guess what I'm really trying to say is, maybe I didn't want Splashy to go at all. Maybe I wanted him to stay here with us. It wasn't my idea to train him to go and look for a damned boat!" The Skipper quickly clamped his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, Mary Ann. I didn't mean to curse in front of a lady."
"That's all right,"Mary Ann grinned, then put on her best rural midwestern accent. "You ain't heard cussin' 'til you've lived on a farm with half a dozen farmhands and a broken tractor."
"Or until you've been in the Navy," the Skipper replied, going slightly pink around the ears.
"If it's any consolation, I know how you feel, Skipper. A little bit, anyway." Mary Ann paused and looked down at her sand-scuffed shoes before carrying on. "Gilligan and I had so much fun swimming with Splashy, you don't know how much I enjoyed that. Without Splashy there, I don't think Gilligan would ever have..."
"Have what?" Skipper prompted, after Mary Ann fell silent.
"Have opened up so much." Mary Ann looked up at the Skipper. "Be honest, Skipper. When has Gilligan ever displayed such affection towards me? Normally he runs a mile if I so much as smile at him. But with Splashy there, it was like he really wanted to be with me, to impress me, to show me all the things he'd taught Splashy to do." Her face grew wistful. "And now that Splashy's no longer here, Gilligan will most likely go right back to the way he was, pretending that everything's fine the way it is."
The Skipper's ears pricked up at that, but he said nothing. Because it was something he'd known for a long time. Gilligan could argue against romance until he was blue in the face but it had been clear almost from the day they were shipwrecked. Gilligan and Mary Ann were almost-an-item, had in fact been almost-an-item for three years, slowly and gradually edging closer and closer every day in an unconscious ballet that was as subtle and delicate as two fledgling butterflies getting used to the fact that they weren't ungainly, earthbound caterpillars any more. And then the Skipper had another dismaying thought. What if Splashy did bring back a boat, and they did get rescued? What would happen to Gilligan and Mary Ann? Would they be swept up in the commotion and be forced to go their separate ways?
Would they choose to go their separate ways?
Rescue could spell the end of something beautiful before it had even begun.
In silence, and with heavy hearts, the Skipper and Mary Ann returned to the huts, lost in their own individual thoughts.
When they arrived back, Gilligan was standing there in the middle of all the mess, rumpled and hungover, scratching his head under his hat.
"What happened here?" he asked, puzzled.
"You happened here," said the Skipper, echoing Ginger's comment about the pie. "Don't you remember anything?"
"Sure. I remember toasting Splashy, and then I remember waking up in my hammock with one doozy of a headache."
"You don't remember anything else?" the Skipper's eyebrows shot up.
Gilligan frowned. "Did I dance with Ginger?" he asked, hesitantly. Then, when Mary Ann's face fell so far it almost hit the floor, he laughed out loud, waving his hands in the air in mock-surrender. "Don't worry, I remember everything! I remember doing the Splashy Dance. I remember waltzing with you, Mary Ann. I remember it all." He reached up and rubbed his temples. "And my head remembers drinking too much berry tea."
"There's some mango juice I made earlier, there on the table." The relief in Mary Ann's voice was palpable. "Drink that, it'll make you feel better."
The three of them began clearing up. Skipper listened to Mary Ann and Gilligan chattering away nineteen to the dozen, almost like a couple that had skipped courtship altogether and gone straight to 'old married' status. Mary Ann was chiding Gilligan for pretending he didn't remember dancing with her. Gilligan was asking her if he was a better dancer than the Professor, and surely he was better than Norbert Wiley, whom she had chosen to dance with even though he had kidnapped her. When Gilligan stopped for breath and the Skipper could finally get a word in, he told Gilligan that Splashy had not reappeared, and of his concerns for the little dolphin's safety.
"He'll be fine, Skipper," Gilligan said reassuringly. "And besides, I've got a real strong gut feeling that he'll be back sooner than you think."
"Oh?" Skipper was intrigued. "What makes you say that?"
"Because I told him that Mary Ann would be waiting for him with a kiss."
"Gilligan! You did not tell him that!" Mary Ann shrieked and almost dropped the broom, but when she turned away the Skipper could see she was smiling. And blushing.
"I did, too!" Gilligan grinned, happily.
"Well, that would certainly be something to come back for," the Skipper chuckled.
"You boys behave yourselves!" Mary Ann giggled, but secretly she was thrilled that Gilligan had even mentioned Splashy and the kissing.
The Skipper spent all day going back and forth to the lagoon, trudging back to the huts with a forlorn expression every time he found the lagoon empty. The Professor didn't know what to say to him. Everything will be fine? It's too soon to start worrying? A watched pot never boils? Best to keep out of the way and say nothing at all, he decided. After all, being whacked with the Skipper's hat for saying something stupid was Gilligan's job.
By evening time it was clear that the Skipper was feeling depressed about the whole thing, and the castaways ate quietly, out of respect for the big man's feelings. Even Gilligan was quiet, chewing his food thoughtfully, although under the table his feet scuffed back and forth through the sand. At the other end of the table, the Professor sat with his chin in one hand, his food untouched. Instead he was writing scientific equations in his gravy with one tine of his wooden fork, trying to work out the realistic possibilities that Splashy would one day come back.
The next day and the day after were the same. There was still no sign of Splashy. The Skipper began to think the worst. On the third day, the Skipper wouldn't even broach the subject of the little dolphin at all, and the other castaways became concerned. They tried cheering him up, but they were shocked when he barked at Gilligan for suggesting a nice walk to the other side of the island to look at the turtles.
"Turtles? What do I want with turtles?" he roared.
Mrs. Howell fiddled nervously with her pearls while her husband put his arm around her shoulders. The Professor exchanged a look with Ginger, and Mary Ann put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.
"I just thought..." said Gilligan, shrinking back.
"Well, don't think!" the Skipper yelled, and then immediately regretted his outburst, apologising profusely until Gilligan went red as his shirt with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, little buddy. I really am. I didn't mean to yell at you like that. But turtles...well, they just don't do it for me the way Splashy did. Don't you understand?"
"I do understand, Skipper," said Gilligan. "But turtles are okay in their own way. There's this one turtle, see, I'm kind of training him myself. Not to go for help or anything- we'd be too old to be rescued by the time a turtle got back. But I had a pet turtle called Herman when I was younger and he kind of reminds me of Herman, even though Herman was a girl, and..."
"All right, Gilligan, I'll come to the other side of the island with you to look at the turtles. But not right now, okay, little buddy? Not right now."
"Okay, Skipper," Gilligan said. "Some other time, maybe. When you're not so worried that Splashy might be..." at which point, seeing the thunderous look that suddenly returned to the Skipper's face, Gilligan promptly turned tail and ran, holding fast to his hat while the other castaways sighed and rolled their eyes.
Later that same afternoon, Gilligan found the Skipper sitting morosely on his rock by the lagoon, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands looking thoroughly dejected.
"I'm sorry, Skipper," he said. "I didn't mean to make you sore. I was just trying to help."
"Gilligan, that's what always happens when you try to help. But it's okay. You know I don't get sore for long."
"Still," said Gilligan, sitting on the sand beside the rock, "I don't like it when you do."
"All right," the Skipper said, wryly, "I promise to stop getting sore if you promise to stop trying to help." He grinned down at Gilligan's expression of dismay. "I'm just kidding, Gilligan."
"I really did talk to Splashy," Gilligan said. "I know he was your other little buddy and all, but he liked to listen to me, too, especially when he was towing me around the lagoon. I told him, 'Splashy, you'll be doing us a real big favour if you do what we want you to do. Go out and find someone to rescue us, straight out to the shipping lanes, and don't go the wrong way'. That's what I said. Go straight out, and don't go the wrong way. And the way he was swimming the day he left, he was heading straight out, Skipper. Straight out, faster than a speeding bullet." Gilligan made a chopping motion with his arm, ending with his hand pointing straight out across the lagoon, out towards the shipping lanes.
"Well it sure is taking him an awful long time," the Skipper fretted. "The shipping lanes aren't that far away- at least not for a speeding dolphin."
They sat there in silence for a while, which was hard for Gilligan to do, but he knew if he kept talking he'd only make the Skipper sore again. They both looked out towards the bend in the lagoon, sometimes getting excited when they saw movement, and both deflating with an identical sigh when it turned out to be just a regular fish.
After around fifteen more minutes had passed, Gilligan spoke up, a slight note of excitement in his voice. "Skipper, I think I can hear something," he said, sitting up straight and putting his hand on the Skipper's knee.
"You can? Are you sure, Gilligan?" the Skipper placed his own hand over Gilligan's, leaning forward so that he might see the lagoon even better if he reduced the gap by six inches.
"Yeah...I'm pretty sure I heard something. Um...Skipper, why are you holding my hand?" Gilligan looked with mild interest at the Skipper's knee, where their two hands had become entwined.
The Skipper growled impatiently and abruptly pushed Gilligan's hand away. "More to the point, Gilligan, why did you put your hand on my knee to begin with?"
"Because it was there," Gilligan retorted. "Anyway, ssssshhhh. I'm trying to listen."
"You? Listen? Keep trying, little buddy, you never listen to anything!"
"No, really, Skipper. Listen- out there. Can't you hear something?"
The Skipper closed his mouth and strained his ears, turning his head this way and that. "You know, you may be right, little buddy- I think I can hear something!"
"Something like a dolphin squeaking?" Gilligan said, his voice rising excitedly.
"Yes, Gilligan, I think it is something like a dolphin squeaking!"
And then, to their sheer delight and amazement, they saw their little dolphin friend appear around the bend and come swimming straight for the beach, leaping out of the water, blowing plumes of spray from his blowhole and chattering loudly and happily.
"It's Splashy!" Gilligan yelled, leaping to his feet without even using his hands as leverage. "Splashy! Splashy!" He began skittering around on the sand as if he couldn't make up his mind in which direction he wanted to go. "Professor!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Professor! Mary Ann! Ginger! Mr. and Mrs. Howell! Professor, everybodyyyyyyy! Splashy's come baaaack!"
Gilligan's voice was loud enough for everyone to hear him from the huts. Mary Ann stared at Ginger, Ginger stared at the Professor, the Professor stared at the Howells and the Howells stared at each other. Then, dropping everything and almost falling over themselves, they all went running (or in the Howells' case, walking very quickly) down to the beach. As they arrived onto the sand one by one, they saw the Skipper and Gilligan jumping around together and waving their hats in the air as their dolphin friend leapt out of the water and rolled in mid air, over and over again, as though he had never left.
"Look! He's not wearing his sign!" the Professor declared. "I wonder if it broke off or was taken off?"
The girls were already half way down the beach, leaving the Professor musing quietly by himself. They joined in with Gilligan's and the Skipper's excitement, jumping up and down on the sand, clapping their hands with glee. And then everyone stopped jumping and stood quietly in a line, shushing each other, as something else appeared around the bend, something too far away to see clearly, but coming closer all the time.
"What's that?" asked Ginger, wide-eyed.
"It's not a boat," said Mary Ann, reaching for Gilligan's arm.
"It looks like a raft," said Gilligan, unconsciously putting his hand over Mary Ann's.
"With a man on it!" said the Skipper, shading his eyes from the sun and squinting at the approaching shape.
"A raft?" said the Professor, gloomily. "He brought us a man on a raft?"
Gilligan looked at the Professor over the top of Mary Ann's head while she held tightly onto his arm. "Isn't that what we taught him to do, Professor?"
The Professor looked resigned. "I suppose it is, but...somehow I hoped he would use the raft as a guide. That he wouldn't necessarily think he had to look specifically for a raft. I wanted him to find a boat."
"If we could build a boat," said Gilligan, "we could have trained him to bring us a boat."
"Gilligan, if we could build a boat we wouldn't be here, we'd have sailed away on it ourselves!" said the Skipper.
"Oh, well at least he brought us something," said Mary Ann, trying to avoid Gilligan being smacked by the Skipper's hat.
"And someone," said Ginger, as the raft got nearer and nearer.
And then collectively their hearts sank down to the ground as they all recognised the person who was helming the raft- a person dressed in tatty, torn aviation gear, even after all this time.
"It can't be!" wailed Mrs. Howell.
"It isn't...!" said Ginger.
"It is!" said Mr. Howell.
"Wrongway Feldman!" they all cried in unison, staring in dismay at the man who was now pulling in to the shore, his bearded face burnt red from the sun, looking like a bedraggled cross between Charles Lindburgh and Robinson Crusoe.
"Is this yours?" Wrongway shouted, holding up the little sign that had once hung around Splashy's neck.
"Gilligan!" said the Skipper, crossly. "This is your fault!"
"How is it my fault?" Gilligan squeaked, now holding as tightly to Mary Ann's arm as she was holding onto his.
"Saying the words 'wrong way' to Splashy! Making him go out and get Wrongway!"
"But...but," Gilligan protested, "how was Splashy supposed to know Wrongway's name?"
"I see you found my little friend!" Wrongway said, as his raft bumped up against the shore and he got off.
"Your little friend?" the Skipper blustered.
"Sure! I've known this little guy since he was born just off the shore of my own island. I practically raised him myself. I named him Wrongway Junior, on account of he's always gettin' lost. He brings me fish- when he isn't gettin' lost, that is. Always gettin' lost, ain't that right, Junior? Just like your old namesake here!"
Splashy clicked and laughed, bobbing his head out of the water in agreement.
"Gilligan, his name is Wrongway! He knows the name Wrongway! You...you..." the Skipper was slowly going redder and redder in the face.
"How was I supposed to know that?" Gilligan pouted.
"Didn't he tell you? When you were having all of your wonderful conversations?" the Skipper said sarcastically.
"Skipper! I don't like the tone of your voice!" Gilligan said, suddenly.
"Well, get used to it, little buddy, because you're going to be hearing a lot more of it from now on!"
Gilligan shot the Skipper a look of pure petulance, turned on his heels and stomped off, forgetting that Mary Ann was attached to his arm. She yelped as she was almost pulled off her feet, and then she went running up the beach with him, trying to console him and tell him that the Skipper didn't mean it, that his emotions must be all over the place now that he knew that Splashy was safe.
"All he ever does is blame everything on me," Gilligan grumbled, stomping off the sand and onto the jungle path. "I told Splashy not to go the wrong way. Not to go get Wrongway!"
"Gilligan, no-one is blaming you, and when the Skipper calms down he won't blame you, either."
"Wrongway isn't going to rescue us," Gilligan sulked. "And I suppose I'll get the blame for that, too."
"Of course you won't," Mary Ann said, pulling on Gilligan's arm to get him to stop. "Gilligan, please stop this running away. It doesn't solve anything and just makes you more angry."
"I'm not angry!" Gilligan said loudly, then stopped and hung his head in shame. "Okay, maybe I am. Just a little bit. Because everything's always my fault, even when it isn't."
"This isn't your fault." Mary Ann stepped closer to him, putting her hand gently on his upper arm. "And nobody thinks it is. Least of all me. And you know why? Because I have faith in you, Gilligan. I know how hard you try."
"I do try," Gilligan said quietly. "I want to go home as much as anyone. It's a real nice island, and we have fun here, but I don't want us to stay here forever. Not to see anyone we love ever again. I don't want that."
"I know you don't," said Mary Ann. "And Skipper knows it too. But this is how the two of you have always been- from the first day we all met on the Minnow. And do you know what? I remember thinking what a wonderful friendship you both had, that you could tease each other and argue and make fun of each other, but that you were closer than anyone I'd ever met. Like you would do anything for each other."
"I guess," said Gilligan, holding onto his sulk with grim determination.
"Yes, it's a little frustrating that Wrongway Feldman turned up, of all the people who could have rescued us, but we didn't make that happen, and you certainly didn't make it happen. And if anyone says you did? Well..." Mary Ann pulled her shoulders back and squared her chin, "...they'll have me to contend with."
"You?" said Gilligan, saucer-eyed.
"Yes, me. I may be small, Gilligan, but I know how to wrestle a baby steer to the ground!"
"You do?"
"I do."
"Not the 'I do's' again," he muttered, then looked her up and down, curiously. He couldn't help a small smile creeping onto his face. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Sucking in my gut," Mary Ann replied, slightly out of breath. "And sticking out my chest."
"I can see that," said Gilligan, and finally he laughed, his face softening immediately, his petulant frown vanishing at once as a wide grin split his face and made those dimples that Mary Ann loved so much. "At ease, cadet," he grinned.
"Only if you stop sulking and come back to the beach."
"Okay, okay. You win." Gilligan removed his hat and clutched it in front of his heart, plastering a look of contrition to his face. "Am I forgiven?"
Mary Ann reached up and kissed his cheek gently, letting her face linger close to his for just a moment longer than she needed to, delighted when he didn't squirm or pull away. "Always, Gilligan," she said softly. "Always."
When they got back to the beach, they found Skipper and Wrongway arguing over who was Splashy's best friend.
"Wrongway Junior!" the aviator was whining. "His name is Wrongway Junior, because he always goes the wrong way!"
"His name is Splashy!" shouted the Skipper. "Because he always splashes!"
The Professor was standing with his shoulders slumped and his face in his hands while Ginger stroked his back soothingly. Mr. Howell was shaking his head and muttering while Mrs. Howell twirled her parasol and made her own observations on the whole matter.
"As the old saying goes, never send a fish to do a man's job."
"Lovey, what old saying?" asked her husband, wearily.
"Oh, I don't know, exactly. But if there isn't one, there ought to be."
Meanwhile, Splashy the dolphin, or Wrongway Junior, swam around the lagoon in a state of high excitement at all the voices babbling around him, his little dolphin's smile seeming wider than ever as he jumped out of the lagoon and slapped the water with his tail, laughing and chattering at the antics of his human friends.
"Well, it looks like we won't be getting rescued today," Gilligan said to Mary Ann, as they looked from the Skipper to Wrongway to Skipper and back again, enjoying the spectacle of the two big men arguing like children over a favourite toy. "But if we stick around long enough, we might just get to see Wrongway being rescued from the Skipper!"
THE END
