Fantasy Island and all associated characters (except mine and MagicSwede1965's) are owned by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. All persons described herein are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Copyright infringement is not intended.

Chapter 2: Interrogations

Roarke walked along the path that bordered the lush grounds of the Harding home, enjoying the tranquility that he rarely had the opportunity to experience in recent weeks. He'd intended to speak to the island's lawyer about a few issues, but had become sidetracked by heartfelt greetings from several people, to which he'd felt obliged to respond out of old habit.

His new identity of the island's political representative had become more widely known among the general populace after the trial of Andrea's ex-husband. Only his family and some of the clan members on the island knew the full story, and for the moment he preferred to keep it that way.

"Mr. Roarke? May I speak with you for a few minutes, if you're not busy?"

He turned and saw Mrs. Lee approaching from the other end of the lawn. "What may I do for you?" he asked politely. As the envoy, he shouldn't know who she was other than as a guest, and he needed to treat her accordingly.

"My name is Keiki Lee," she began. "I wanted to apologize to you for my reaction earlier; I must've sounded crazy." She glanced up at him, looking a bit embarrassed.

"There's no harm done, Mrs. Lee," he responded evenly as he briefly wondered why she had changed her name. "I've become accustomed to it. Are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"Yes, I am, but without," she hesitated slightly, "your father here, it doesn't feel quite the same. If you don't mind my asking, how much do you know about the business and the island?"

He tilted his head slightly to one side, as if considering his answer, but he chose his words deliberately to gauge the woman's reaction. "I've heard a few stories over the years, including one about how many assistants were hired and dismissed between Mr. Lawrence's departure and the time Mrs. Enstad returned home from abroad." It felt uncomfortable to refer to Leslie so formally, but someone in his position would do so. He noted Mrs. Lee's sudden rigidity as he continued, "I don't presume to interfere with the business because I have my own responsibilities elsewhere, but I'm most thankful that I may return here whenever I can."

She gulped nervously before saying, "I see. Well, I asked because I was one of those assistants back in the day. I couldn't learn all I would've liked to know, but I suppose… Mr. Roarke had his reasons for not keeping me on long enough to learn. I thought that you might be able to tell me a few things, but if you don't know, that's okay."

Roarke suppressed his urge to catch her in the lie, and gave her a friendly smile. "As is true in many professions, younger people tend to be a little too eager because they want to prove that they are capable of the same skills as their elders. The tale of the sorcerer's apprentice who enchants a broom to perform a menial task which rapidly spirals out of control is a good allegory for that."

"Yes, I didn't understand that for a long time, unfortunately," she said, and sighed sadly. "And now it's too late for me to apologize to him."

He found himself slipping back into an advisory role; his long tenure as an enabler of dreams couldn't be shed easily. "Perhaps when you were here last, you were on the cusp of adulthood but still saw the world through a child's eyes. Now you are an adult and have learned many of the lessons that life requires. I'm sure your apology would've been welcomed," he said sincerely.

She raised her eyes to his face and her expression transformed into one of awe. "You're right, you know. I'm a woman now, seeing through a woman's eyes, and for some reason I just can't shake the feeling that I should know you."

"I very much doubt that," he told her, realizing that this conversation had to end before she could guess the truth. "My duties prevent me from being here often."

Mrs. Lee protested, "But your voice, your mannerisms are so like his! Let me tell you something: believe it or not, I loved him from afar for more than half my life. And now, seeing you, I just can't help but wonder if there's a chance…"

He held up one hand to stop her. "Surely you must be aware that the kind of love you're looking for isn't found in passion alone. It's found in respect and trust." Just as his own love for Andrea was. "You can't expect a reasonable man to reciprocate based on mere attraction."

In response, she raised herself to her toes and kissed him.

Such an act wasn't at all surprising to him, given the circumstances. He held himself under firm control, a fairly easy thing to do, since after all, he had resisted many women's advances over the years.

Mrs. Lee pulled back and gazed at him. "Are you saying that you don't feel anything when I kiss you like that?"

Saying that he felt nothing would be a lie, but what he did feel was for another woman. "No, I can't say that. What I could say is that what you are searching for might not be here, Mrs. Lee."

Her eyes pleaded with him. "But I came to this island to make a new start. Won't you help me with that?"

"I could help you," he offered, "but not in the way that you want."

"But it's you that I want, Mr. Roarke," she said, having evidently decided to disregard all caution. "I need someone like you to make me feel protected, to make me feel loved." She attempted to kiss him again.

He held her shoulders firmly, preventing her from doing so. "No, Mrs. Lee," he said with a compassionate expression. "I am not the man who can do that for you."

Her face shifted from shock to indignation. "So, you're too good for me, is that it?" she said angrily as she pulled herself from his grasp. "Well, I'm not going to make it easy for you!" Whirling on her heel, she strode away.

As Roarke watched her go, he brought his fingers to his lips for a moment. Her need was genuine, that was clear, but her choice of lover was impossible. Even if Andrea hadn't come back into his life, he would've done the same. Mrs. Lee was only hurting herself now by trying to hurt him, which made her likely to do something foolish. He would have to be more careful.

A little later, Andrea knocked on the door of the Lilac Bungalow where Mrs. Lee was staying. Having been warned of her true identity by Roarke, she knew that it would be a challenge to treat her as any other guest.

The door opened. "Hello Ms. Trenton, please come in," Keiki Lee said. "Thanks for accepting my invitation. Won't you sit down?"

She entered and gave a gracious nod before settling into a chair. "I try to help the guests feel more comfortable with themselves and their fantasies," she began, and then went straight to the point. "I understand that you're looking for love."

Mrs. Lee's eyes lit up. "Yes, from a particular person, as a matter of fact. But I don't seem to even register on his radar. When I spoke to him and offered my love, he was polite but cool, like he doesn't have any emotions."

"Everyone has emotions, Mrs. Lee."

The woman gave a sarcastic laugh. "This man doesn't, it seems. It makes me wonder if there's any other way to get his attention. This place is supposed to be magical."

Andrea smiled warmly. "In its own way, it is. But even on Fantasy Island, love isn't something that can be coerced or forced. It takes time and effort. Aladdin's genie couldn't make someone fall in love, for instance."

With a snort, Mrs. Lee said, "That was just a movie. I'm talking about reality. Does this place have ways to create love?"

Andrea knew that there were a few such methods, but it wasn't her place to say anything about them; Delphine hadn't given her permission, among other things. "Unfortunately, I'm not able to tell you that. Please allow me to repeat: love won by force or sorcery is worthless and you would regret it in the end."

"Are you sure about that?" Mrs. Lee spouted angrily. "Have you ever been in love? I mean, really in love? Wouldn't you have gone to any length to keep it?"

She was getting annoyed, but held her composure. "Yes, and yes," she responded, some of the warmth evaporating from her voice. "Many years ago, I learned the hard way that love is a precious thing that isn't to be trifled with. If you love that man as much as you say, then you need to take it slowly. Give him the opportunity to open up to you."

"I already tried that," Mrs. Lee grumbled. "He turned me down cold." Then she perked up somewhat. "Perhaps you could talk to him for me? Tell him about how much I want to be with him?"

"I could talk to him, but after all, he is free to make his own decisions," Andrea replied. "Who is the lucky gentleman whom you believe would benefit from your affection?"

Casting an embarrassed glance at the floor, Mrs. Lee said, "The envoy. Mr. Roarke."

Despite herself, apprehension exploded within her heart for a moment, but it dissipated quickly. She knew with utter certainty that Roarke could never be tempted by anyone other than herself. "He? If he has already turned you down, Mrs. Lee, then I suggest that you look elsewhere. There has always been a strict policy for the staff not to become involved with the guests. And besides–"

The woman interrupted sullenly, "Is that why he seems to have no emotions, then? To discourage all the women?"

"Mr. Roarke abstains for many reasons," she said. "But he does have emotions: underneath that calm and professional exterior, he feels quite deeply. Only a very few have the privilege of seeing it."

Mrs. Lee stared at her as if she'd just realized something. "You know him better than you've been letting on." Then her eyes narrowed. "You're in love with him too," she accused.

Andrea couldn't help laughing, but immediately controlled herself after she saw the guest's flabbergasted expression. "I'm so sorry, that was rude of me, but you took me by surprise. Yes, I am in love with him, but being in love with my own fiancé isn't a crime."

Mrs. Lee gasped before whispering, "Your… fiancé?" She glanced at Andrea's left hand to see a delicate ring with a tiny ruby in the setting. "You're lying. You just don't want me to have him because you want him for yourself."

"I'm not in the habit of lying," she responded, her geniality gone now. "Especially concerning matters of the heart."

In an abrupt motion Mrs. Lee stood up, strode closer, and stared down at her. "It's true, then? He rejected me just because you're engaged?"

"There's no 'just' about it," said Andrea as she rose also. "We have codes of honour and an abiding love that are stronger than any desire. We both take such commitments very seriously."

"Ha, even committed men will stray, given the opportunity," said Mrs. Lee belligerently. "I know that from experience."

"Perhaps you need to look more closely at yourself in order to discover why," Andrea advised. "Sometimes the problem isn't the one who strays, but the one who stays behind." Ignoring the woman's furious stare, she continued, "That aside, I recommend once more that you look for your fulfilment elsewhere. Mr. Roarke and I have complete love and faith in each other. Nothing can come between us. If you'll excuse me, I've other tasks that require attention." She turned and left the bungalow.

Keiki growled and violently threw an accent cushion across the room as she asked herself why she'd come here in the first place if only to stir up old resentments. As had been the case all those years ago, the object of her affection seemed to be oblivious to her. Why were men so blind sometimes? Why did she have to suffer such humiliation?
One thing was for certain: this time, she wasn't going to take it.

Roarke's colleague, a slender, severe-looking woman whom his family members knew as Blue, had taken exception to his recently adopted preference to appear in the Realms in his physical body instead of in the incorporeal state that most other folk favoured. "Many of us find it to be disconcerting, Leader," she told him. "After more than four years of your not doing so, there are questions being asked as to why."

He said mildly, "I have already told you why: that I prefer my material form, and following my lady's intervention, I feel more comfortable with assuming it. Since my intention at this moment is to speak to young Jeskriyan, I believe that she and her mother might be more receptive to my suggestion if I present myself in this fashion."

"Endimara has remained adamant that her daughter not return to the planet, after what happened to her," Blue said. "She is convinced that no human can be trusted."

"That was the exception rather than the rule," he reminded her. "However, you aren't the one whom I need to persuade." They stopped at a doorway and Roarke waved one hand in front of it.

"Enter," called a woman's voice from within.

Much like the rest of the Realms, the living quarters were comprised of clusters of chambers that had been hollowed out from the moon's interior. Human eyes would see only roiling mist, the by-product of the vast quantity of stored water that was essential to sustaining the population here. "I thank you for allowing us to speak with you, Endimara," Roarke said.

"Welcome," said the woman's voice from in front of him. "As I have told your associate, Leader, I have forbidden my daughter to visit the planet, in light of the kidnapping incident a few months ago. She and I have argued frequently on the matter, and in recent days she has hardly spoken to me at all. I doubt that even you will be able to sway her."

"It's often better to gently guide youthful impulsiveness," Roarke said. "Seeking to control it will only cause further rebellion. I've had some experience with such things, after all." Raising Leslie had certainly been a challenge at times, but he'd never once regretted it. "However, I offer a compromise to which I hope you both might be amenable."

"Mother won't compromise," a much younger voice sounded from his right. "She thinks that it's far too dangerous for anyone to go to Earth, especially after what others have said."

"Granted, there are few places that could be considered totally safe, even by human standards, Jeskriyan," Roarke conceded. "As you might be aware, the island that my daughter now manages has become a haven for many clan members, who have chosen to move there rather than continue to suffer persecution. Most who have grown up there are well accustomed to what humans consider to be 'supernatural' phenomena and are much more accepting of the clans and their powers. I propose that you both accompany me there, and I can show you around in safety."

"That island?" Jeskriyan asked excitedly. "The one where Prince Christian lives? He told me a few things about it, and I thought that it sounded like a wonderful place! Please, Mother, may we go?"

Endimara hesitated. "Forgive me, Leader, but would I be correct in assuming that your… lady will be present?" she asked in a somewhat disapproving tone that she couldn't quite disguise.

"She was when I left there," Roarke replied. "Typically, she spends weekends on the island to assist wherever needed. I'm well aware that my association with her has been looked upon unfavourably, but let me assure you that she's an honourable person and her intentions are sincere."

"I, for one, would like to meet her," Jeskriyan piped up. "I know what has been said, but I want to find out what she's like for myself. Isn't there a human saying about not judging printed material by its container?"

He chuckled. "The phrase is 'don't judge a book by its cover', and you are wise to want to form your own opinion instead of believing solely in what others claim."

"Very well, Leader," said Endimara reluctantly. "I will, however, say that I have little confidence that an excursion to your daughter's island will change my viewpoint."

"Thank you, Endimara. I only ask that you try to keep an open mind," Roarke advised. "You might end up being pleasantly surprised."

Roarke and the two women appeared on the porch of the main house, startling the scarlet macaw that was perched on the railing, and the bird took flight with a screech. There seemed to be nobody in the house at this moment, which was common for a Saturday afternoon when everyone was busy with fantasies.

A quick touch to the mental link with Andrea was rewarded by a welcoming nudge and an image of the Fantasy Island Theatre. It wasn't far from the main area of the resort, so he suggested to his companions that they could easily walk there and see some of the facilities along the way.

Abruptly Jeskriyan glanced at him, and then looked away as if in embarrassment. "Forgive me for staring, Leader, but I couldn't help but notice. Why has your clothing changed?"

He smiled affably. "I have developed the habit of assuming the appearance that my lady prefers whenever I am on the planet. Humans typically place value on their looks, particularly if they are in positions of some importance. When I ran this resort, I ensured that I was dressed appropriately."

It didn't take long to reach the theatre. When they entered the hall, there appeared to be a rehearsal of some sort happening. A number of musicians were seated in a cluster in front of the stage, waiting expectantly. A dark-haired young man was on the stage pacing back and forth as he stared at a sheet of paper, while two women were exchanging hushed but urgent words to one side. Andrea herself was paging through the papers on a lectern that faced the orchestra.

"Hello again," Roarke said in a mellow tone when they reached her.

She turned and smiled brightly. "Hello again," she said as she clasped his hands, and then nodded graciously at the two women who were with him. They were clad in the beige one-piece outfits that the Realms people seemed to favour. One of them appeared to be middle-aged, with grey-streaked dusky blonde hair. The younger one looked no older than twenty; her hair fell to the middle of her back and was the colour of spun gold. "Who are your friends?"

"May I introduce Endimara," he indicated the older woman, "and her daughter Jeskriyan," he said, with a slight accent on the second syllable of the girl's name. "They are of my people, who wished to see the island."

The petite young woman stared wide-eyed before bowing deferentially. "Good day… you are Leader's consort, correct? May I ask how we should address you?"

"There's no need for such formality here," Andrea said in a friendly tone. "My name is Andrea, but you may call me Ms. Trenton if you prefer. And 'consort' is such a politically charged term which implies one's subservience to the other. He and I are partners."

Endimara nodded, her expression neutral but with interest in her eyes. "Very well, Ms. Trenton. Leader has been most kind to bring us to this place."

"What is happening here?" Jeskriyan wanted to know.

Andrea framed her response carefully. "These are students who are studying music and theatre, particularly that of shows that became famous on Broadway."

"I know of that place," interjected Jeskriyan eagerly. "It's a road in New York City that's well known for its theatres." Then a sad expression crossed her face for a moment.

"Exactly so," said Andrea, realizing that the girl must have had a bad experience there and quickly moved on. "The students are preparing for a performance that will enable them to show off their abilities to the community. I came here to listen because I once studied music myself and I enjoy it."

As she was explaining this, the argument up on the stage became more heated, and then one of the women stormed out. The other shrugged her shoulders in defeat and made her way over to where the four of them were standing.

"What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Szpilberg?" Andrea asked.

The short grey-haired woman sighed after nodding a greeting to the newcomers. "The girl who was supposed to rehearse next is being stubborn. In the actual play, the performers of that song kiss each other, but she refuses to do it because for whatever reason she hates him. I suggested that she could hug him instead but she was angry enough to not even want to do that."

"I, for one, understand her perspective," said Roarke, "but is she aware of how often that actors must simulate being amorous toward people to whom they have no romantic attachment?"

"I did try to tell her that," Mrs. Szpilberg said flatly. "I can't help but feel sorry for her, because such a strong aversion won't be good for her acting ambitions."

"For the moment, I could do it," Andrea volunteered. "He needs to practice anyway, right? Having someone perform the accompanying part would make it easier for him."

Startled, Jeskriyan asked, "You would kiss him if you do not love him?"

"I'll talk to him about it first," Andrea said. "It's courteous to be aware of the other performers' preferences and limitations." She ascended the steps to the stage.

"But…" the girl glanced at Roarke.

He gave a smile that indicated an easy tolerance. "I have no objections, and she knows that. We both understand that it would be an act only, with no other intent." Privately, he suspected that she wouldn't kiss the boy out of consideration for him.

After exchanging a few words with the young man, Andrea returned. "He agreed to a hug; he'd be uncomfortable with a kiss simply because it's I." With a chuckle, she added, "I'm not surprised." Then she took her place on the stage again. With a satisfied huff, the director picked up a baton from the lectern and signaled the musicians, who proceeded to play a credible rendition of "All I Ask of You" from the musical The Phantom of the Opera.

The young man was unsteady at first, but with Andrea's harmony, his confidence gradually improved. As the song progressed, Roarke had the definite impression that Andrea was performing for himself alone, a feeling that was corroborated by his fiancée's movements on the stage and her glances toward him as she sang certain lines. But she was no less attentive to her co-singer as she guided him through the motions, culminating in a loose hug at the music's final crescendo.

He experienced a brief jolt of disappointment. This was one song that he couldn't sing, because the range required was higher than his rich baritone voice would allow. To not be able to perform what was considered to be one of modern theatre's most romantic songs with the woman he loved was difficult to accept.

'Music isn't written in stone, aroha,' her thought came amid a loving nudge through their link. 'It can be open to interpretation.' She stepped off the stage to give a brief critique of the young man's singing to Mrs. Szpilberg before turning to Roarke and his two guests. "Don't fret, I'm a professional," she said, grinning when she noticed a flash of skepticism cross Roarke's face before his expression cleared again.

Jeskriyan, being innocent in such things, didn't notice the interplay between them. "That was beautiful. How does one create such sounds?"

"Song and music are among the oldest forms of human expression," Andrea said. "It's a matter of finding where one's natural talent might lie, and developing it over time. I discovered a talent for playing piano at an early age," she indicated the upright piano that stood off to one side of the stage, "and I took up singing later."

"What about you, Leader?" the young woman asked, turning to Roarke.

He replied, "I learned many skills during my travels throughout the world. Like Ms. Trenton, I also play the piano, as well as several other musical instruments. I do not sing well, however."

Andrea couldn't resist teasing him. Leaning close and tugging on his tie, she said quietly, "You can so sing. You just need some practice." For an instant she wondered if he would be averse to coming up on stage with her, but decided not to ask, knowing his dislike of showing off. If they were lucky, they'd have time to discuss it in private later.

It was to her complete surprise that he murmured, "Challenge accepted," as he took her hand. Raising his voice, he asked, "Mrs. Szpilberg, does your ensemble know the accompaniment for "Master of the House"?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Roarke," said the director, and shuffled a few papers. Some of the musicians reacted with glee, prompting her to loudly tap the lectern with the baton before signaling them again.

Roarke ushered Andrea up onto the stage, where the two of them dove into a rollicking performance of the signature song by the unscrupulous landlord and his long-suffering wife from Les Miserables, joined by most of the students present. The irony wasn't lost on her, considering how long he had been the honest and humble manager of the resort. At the end of the song, just about everyone was laughing, and it lifted Andrea's heart to see Roarke so happy and relaxed.

A nudge from him through the link prompted her to look past the musicians into the empty hall, to see a lone figure leaving through one of the doors at the far end. Her mood sobered as she realized that it was Mrs. Lee. She'd been following them.

'Another reason for my performance,' his thought came. 'It was to show a different personality than she was expecting. I fear that she might suspect who I truly am.'

'I don't like this,' she responded. 'I'm going to talk to Delphine.'