Epilogue

The half moon in the dark purple sky threw the island's mountains into shadow, softening their sharp silhouettes into the shape of sleeping giants. The thick jungle rustled and whistled in the darkness, where no light, not even of a firefly, disturbed its mystery.

In his own hut, in his own hammock, Gilligan lay listening. "Gee, Skipper," he said softly. "I'd almost forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"How beautiful the island is. Listen: I think she's singing to us!"

Below him, the Skipper snorted. "All I hear are crickets!"

"You have to listen real careful, Skipper." Gilligan turned to the window, where outside the tall palms leaned together like graceful sisters, whispering. "I think she's glad we're back!"

"Well, I sure am." Gilligan heard the Skipper cough once, then quickly carry on. "I mean, I sure am glad I don't have to pretend those three actors are the three of you anymore!"

"So those actors really did fool everybody, eh, Skipper? Boy, they must have been good."

"They were." Now a smug note of satisfaction crept in. "But they didn't fool me."

"Really? They didn't?"

"Not for a minute!"

"What tipped you off?"

"Oh, you know." Gilligan could almost picture the airy wave of the Skipper's hand below. "All kinds of things. That guy who played you, for instance. I mean, he sure looked like you and all, but there was no way he was going to take me in." There was a pause. "So…I guess when you were in Los Angeles, you must have met the guy who played me."

"Yeah, I did. Did some scenes with him, actually."

The Skipper's tone turned elaborately casual. "What did you think of him?"

"Alan? Oh, he was a nice enough kind of guy." Gilligan's tone became just as deliberately nonchalant. "So…what did you think of Bob?"

"Oh, he was a nice enough kind of guy." There was another pause. "We talked about you, a little."

"You did? What did you say?"

"Oh..." The Skipper's voice died away for a moment. Then he carried on in the same offhand tone. "Nothing much. Just told him about how you and I met, that kind of thing. He asked me to say hi to you, by the way."

"That was nice of him. Gee, I wish I could have met him." A thought suddenly struck the first mate. "Hey, where did he sleep while he was here?"

"In your hammock. Where do you think?"

Gilligan didn't know whether to be jealous or amused. "Bet you kept him awake all night with your snoring."

"What? Gilligan, I never snore."

"Sure you don't." Gilligan grinned and yawned. "So the headhunters are all gone, you said?"

"Are they ever. Heh, heh. Remind me to tell you about it some day. I wanna tell you, those actors were pretty amazing!"

"They got rid of the headhunters?"

"Not exactly. I'll tell you about it some other time." The Skipper's voice quivered in eagerness. "Now come on, tell me about Los Angeles! What was it like, being back in civilization?"

Gilligan shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Food was nice."

The Skipper's sigh nearly moved Gilligan's hammock. "I can imagine! T-bone steak, mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes…"

"Chocolate covered hamburger," said Gilligan.

"Oh…yeah." The Skipper didn't sound as hungry anymore. "How was it being on the set of our show? Was it fun?"

Gilligan remembered the fight at the lagoon and the mishap atop the stage. "Fun? No. Kinda dull, actually."

"What about the other actors? You met them all, didn't you?"

"All except for the girl who played Ginger. We never saw her."

"Oh really? How come?"

"Oh - they shoot scenes all over the place in the studio, you know, and we weren't really there for very long. Guess we just never managed to hook up with her."

"Oh." The Skipper chuckled. "Say – that was some greeting you gave our Ginger! You hugged her so hard you lifted her off her feet!"

Gilligan shifted slightly. "I was just so glad to see everybody safe, that's all. I hope she didn't mind."

"I don't think so. She was laughing. Come to think of it, the Professor and Mary Ann gave her big hugs too. What was that all about?"

"They just felt the same way I did, I guess. Mrs. Howell was kind of staring at us all through dinner, though. She kept whispering to Mr. Howell. 'Thurston, I'm so confused! It's getting so that you can't tell the players without a program!' What did she mean, Skipper?"

The Skipper laughed softly. "I don't know. That rich society lingo always goes right over my head. Just like when the Professor goes into one of his scientific lectures. Sometimes when he starts in I feel like my brain's going to explode!"

"Speaking of that –" A note of hesitation crept into Gilligan's voice. "Do you think the Professor's right, Skipper?"

"About what?"

"About not telling the Howells and Ginger what really happened? I feel kinda bad, keeping it a secret."

The Skipper sighed. "It's a tough call, little buddy. If the actors were still here, I'd say go ahead. But with no proof, and such a crazy story…I mean, I hardly believe it myself! We wouldn't want them thinking the four of us had gone crazy, would we?"

"I guess not. It's getting hard trying to remember what I'm allowed to say in front of people and what I'm not, though. I just got through pretending to be somebody else!"

"Well, maybe someday we can tell them about it, Gilligan. We'll see, okay?"

"Okay, Skipper."

There was a long silence. By now Gilligan had been with the Skipper so long he could tell what the big man's silences meant, even in the darkness. "Skipper?"

"Mmm? Yeah, little buddy?"

"Is something bothering you?"

"Um, no…erp…yes." The bamboo support poles creaked as the Skipper moved restlessly. "Well, the truth is, Gilligan, this whole thing got me taking a good, long, look at myself. And I didn't really like what I saw."

"You do kinda need a haircut," said Gilligan helpfully.

"No, no, I don't mean on the outside. I mean on the inside." The Skipper's voice suddenly grey very soft. "You know, for a while there, little buddy, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

Gilligan's voice was just as hushed. "Neither did I."

"And it made me realize a few things. I-I haven't always been as nice to you as I should be, little buddy."

"What? Sure you have, Skipper!"

"No I haven't, and you know it. I let you take the blame for things that aren't your fault. I don't stick up for you like I should. I blow up at you when you're only trying your best!"

"Skipper--"

"And there's a reason you've got the Navy Medal of Honour, and I don't," said the Skipper softly. "It's because you're the stronger and the braver of the two of us. You always have been, and you always will be. But I promise that from now on, I'll try to be a bit more of both, okay?" There was another pause. "Still shipmates?"

Gilligan leaned over the hammock to look down at the Skipper, and his eyes sparkled. "Sure, Skipper. You know why?"

"No, why?"

"'Cause I just can't wait to drop a coconut on your foot tomorrow!"

The Skipper burst into his rich laugh. "You what? Well, I just can't wait to sock you over the head with my cap!" His laughter slowly subsided into gentle chuckles. "Welcome home, little buddy."

"Thanks, Skipper. Good night."

Gilligan lay still as the island's thousand voices hummed about his ears, and heard at last the sweetest notes of all: the Skipper's snoring. Gilligan smiled into the darkness.

Yes. He had come home.