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 3: I Spy

It was difficult for Delphine to keep a straight face and she wondered not for the first time how her godfather had maintained his patience with agitated guests. Mrs. Lee was standing in front of her, hands on her hips, after asking – more like demanding – to see Mr. Roarke. The woman had been quite nosy throughout the previous day, asking questions of the staff about both Mr. Roarke and Andrea, as well as following Andrea to the theatre. After the rehearsal, Andrea had taken the extreme measure of teleporting directly here so that she could mention the problem. Delphine had noted her concerns but wasn't certain at that point if it was enough to justify telling Mrs. Lee to leave the island.

She was beginning to have second thoughts now.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lee, but Mr. Roarke isn't available," she said to the visibly annoyed woman. "At this time of the morning, I think he'd be doing his workout. I'll pass on the message that you'd like to speak to him."

"No thank you, Mrs. Randolph, I'll find him later." Keiki left the house, and after walking a short distance down the lane, hailed one of the staff cars.

The driver obligingly dropped her off at the Fantasy Island athletic complex, the most likely place where someone might be working out, and she went inside. It was an impressive, Olympic-class training facility with many amenities that included a large gymnasium. She found her way up to a small observation gallery and looked around. The gym's walls were lined with athletic equipment in various states of assembly. At the near end she saw Mr. Roarke and Ms. Trenton, clad in white exercise clothes, fencing with each other. Strangely, they were using what looked like real swords instead of blunted ones. The clanging of their blows echoed across the space.

"One of these days, I will beat you," Ms. Trenton was saying breathlessly.

Mr. Roarke grinned. "You are excellent, my dear, but don't forget that I have much more experience." He parried her next strike, lunged forward, and marked her thigh with a thin scratch that oozed a drop of blood. "Touché," he said, and returned to the ready position.

Ms. Trenton followed suit, and then went on the attack. After trading a few more blows, she ducked under his blade and marked his forearm. "Touché."

Keiki was appalled. How could they do such things? They supposedly were in love, and yet they didn't hesitate to injure each other! What kind of warped relationship did they have?

The fight continued for several more minutes, each combatant making every effort to strike the other. Both were perspiring, the moisture mixing with the drops of blood on their bodies. At one point they parried in close quarters, each pressing against the other's blade in an attempt to disarm. Mr. Roarke was clearly much stronger than his partner, and he took full advantage of it. "You can't win," he said in a husky voice.

"That doesn't stop me from trying," she growled back, and whirled away from him.

He circled her like a cat toying with its prey. "If I were you, I'd yield now," he said.

"It's not over yet," she retorted sweetly, and moved in.

Roarke struck downwards, jarring her sword arm, and then the tip of his sword was at her neck before she could bring her weapon up to parry. "Touché."

Ms. Trenton closed her eyes. "I yield."

And then, to Keiki's amazement, Mr. Roarke's combative demeanour totally reversed. He pulled away, put his sword down on the floor, and waited for his partner to do the same. Next, he picked up a towel and began to solicitously wipe the blood and perspiration from Ms. Trenton's body. "I trust that you've sustained no lasting hurt?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, aroha, of course not," she replied gently. "Why do you insist on holding back? I can't improve upon my own ability if you do that."

"Mi amada, please." He stroked her cheek with a worried look. "If I used my full skill, I could injure you seriously. Would you have that on my conscience?"

She took the towel from him and ministered to him similarly. "No, I wouldn't."

Roarke enfolded her in his arms. The towel dropped as the two of them kissed.

Disgusted, Keiki left the facility.

As soon as Mrs. Lee was gone, Andrea said, "I appreciate your not wanting to hurt me, but you know quite well that I can bear it." She brushed her thigh to show that the scratch he'd inflicted had healed itself; she'd assumed her elemental form before they'd begun so they could fight without any hindrance. "However, I fear that our little display has provoked her further." She had sensed the woman's presence from the moment she'd entered the building, but hadn't needed to say anything, because Roarke would've also known.

"I've encountered similar women in the past," he said gravely. "Such a driven personality is dangerous. Perhaps she should be persuaded to shorten her stay."

Most of the family were at the main house for lunch, unusual for a Saturday because of how busy everyone tended to be with fantasies, but the situation with Mrs. Lee involved them all and it needed to be discussed.

"I know we all agreed to it, but misleading a guest doesn't feel right, even if it is someone like her," said Leslie with a scowl. "I'll never forget her accusation that I was 'frolicking' with a guest."

Andrea regarded her sympathetically. Even though she didn't know the whole story about what had happened between the two women, she could see that it was still hard for Leslie to talk about all these years later. "I understand, but this is nothing new. This island has always been about misleading people to some extent."

"That is true," Leslie's husband Christian agreed, "but how often does someone become so insistent on finding out what really happens here?"

"Very rarely," Roarke said thoughtfully. "I recall only one other case."

Delphine said, "After you told me about seeing her at the gym this morning, I changed my mind about her. If she's going that far, I will have to cite her for harassment of the staff."

"It sounds to me like it's only a matter of time before she decides to do something worse," Leslie warned. "Wouldn't it be better just to tell her the truth and get it over with?"

Andrea said, "That would likely encourage her more. She still believes that she's in love with Mr. Roarke, and she's insanely jealous of me. You're probably lucky that you haven't crossed paths with her yet, because she might decide to take it out on you too. Although Roarke and I both made it clear that we're committed to each other, Mrs. Lee doesn't believe it. She's fixated on her fantasy."

"Which I refused to grant, so it's not applicable," Delphine insisted.

"I don't think she sees it that way," said Rogan, ever the skeptic.

Julie blurted, "Then why not let her have what she wants?"

There was a chorus of "What?!" from around the table.

Roarke sent his goddaughter a look of dismay at the unexpected turn.

She looked quite taken aback before saying, "Let her go on a date with you. Let her have her fun. It'll be play-acting, like many of the other fantasies. Then maybe she'll quit."

"No." Roarke's refusal was absolute. "That would be most unfair, both to Mrs. Lee's feelings and to ours. As well, if she were to want something more, I of course would decline, which wouldn't improve the situation."

Julie nodded. "I'm sorry for suggesting it," she said sheepishly. "I should've known better."

Delphine shrugged and said, "Besides, the person she really wants is the Mr. Roarke she remembers. That's not who you are any more."

"Indeed not," both Roarke and Andrea said.

The words turned over and over in Keiki Lee's head when she listened to the recording that she'd secretly made of the lunch conversation. It hadn't been difficult to conceal her cellphone under the house's veranda without being noticed, and then retrieve it after they'd all left. So, they'd found her out, had they? It didn't matter anyway. She gave them credit for trying so hard to hide it, but the talk had implied that the envoy was in fact the original Mr. Roarke and everyone in his family was apparently in on the secret.

One thing did baffle her, though: how old was he, really? If he'd been managing the resort since before 1967 (she'd asked one of the native elders) then he'd have to be in his sixties at the very least. Even when she'd been working for him in 1985, he appeared to have been in his sixties, which would make him over ninety now. Yet when she'd seen him earlier, he looked no older than fifty. Did the man not age? His fiancée, if that's who she really was, seemed to be only about thirty at most. Talk about robbing the cradle!
No matter what was going on here, she was determined to figure it out!

Later on, Andrea was in the main office reviewing some paperwork when Mrs. Lee blew into the room like a hurricane. "There you are!" she said in a hostile tone. "I've some questions for you."

Andrea put down the papers, keeping a carefully neutral stance. "I might have some answers."

"Do you know who your fiancé is? Who he really is?" Mrs. Lee jabbed a finger toward the portrait of Mr. Roarke on the wall. "I believe that he's not dead, as everyone has claimed he is."

A cold feeling crept through her as she realized that the woman was getting far too close to the truth, if she hadn't already deduced it. "If my fiancé were the original Mr. Roarke, he'd be over ninety years old, and he certainly doesn't look it," she said reasonably. "How could you conclude otherwise?"

"He hasn't aged; if anything, he looks like he's gotten younger since I was last here. Everyone refers to him as 'Mr. Roarke'. I've heard nobody call him by name, even you, the one who's supposedly closest to him. Unless 'Aroha' is his name."

Andrea winced at the woman's horrible pronunciation of the word. "Aroha," she said carefully, accenting the first syllable and gently rolling the r, "means 'beloved' in the natives' language. I use it as a term of affection, as one would use 'dear' or 'darling'. His given name is Richard, but most call him 'Mr. Roarke' out of respect because the name has been associated with this place for a very long time."

"But who is he, really?" the woman pressed. "He's virtually unknown beyond this island other than by reputation, and he's treated almost like he's royalty. How can you even think of being with a man without really knowing him?"

Andrea said smoothly, "The elder Mr. Roarke was the owner and sovereign of this island. His daughter Mrs. Enstad is not only sovereign and Chief Magistrate, but is also a titled princess by marriage. That makes my fiancé royalty in effect, not to mention he acts as this island's diplomatic envoy when required. As for knowing him…" She walked up to Mrs. Lee and continued in a more severe tone, "He is the man I love. Surely you can't think that I don't know my own heart? I also know that he loves me in return. What he should choose to tell me beyond that is up to him. A person who is forced to give of themselves will always harbour resentment, and that isn't the way to build a trusting relationship."

"Trust," Mrs. Lee scoffed, "is overrated. Especially on this island, where misdirection and illusion are commonplace."

"On the contrary, this place is built on trust. Every person who gets off the plane expects that they will find what they're seeking, whether consciously or not. That is trust, in a very real sense."

Mrs. Lee stamped her foot angrily. "How can you stand there and accept this so easily? How can you claim to love and trust a man who won't even tell you about himself? Especially when you've known him just a short time? I heard that you only started dating him last June."

Andrea straightened up. "I have known him since I was thirteen years old," she said firmly. "He is unique, he has been to places and seen things that nobody else has, and he knows things that nobody else ever could. Besides, when one's heart and soul recognize one's true match, all other details become less significant." She fixed the woman with an even stare. "Your efforts to get me to doubt my fiancé won't work, Mrs. Lee. Please, for your own sake, give up this foolish pursuit or only grief will come of it."

The other woman sent her such a glare that it might have pierced rock. "I've loved Mr. Roarke for years, and my fantasy is to marry him. You are the one who should give up, because to my knowledge, nobody who comes here for a fantasy has ever left unfulfilled."

That statement was wrong, because there had actually been a few times where fantasies had turned out very differently than what had been intended. Either Mrs. Lee was lying or she genuinely didn't know. "The Mr. Roarke whom you believe you love no longer exists," Andrea said bluntly. From a certain point of view, that was true. He had lost part of his power, had been changed by the Tribunal, and then changed again by herself into the being he was now. "You're blinded by your own jealousy."

Mrs. Lee tossed her head and snorted in derision. "On the contrary, I'm beginning to see things much more clearly. If a woman like you could hook an important man like Mr. Roarke, I'll bet it wasn't because of your looks." She eyed Andrea cynically. "Then again, maybe it's all for show, because I heard tell that he never lets any woman get the better of him."

Andrea stood up deliberately and menacingly. "Mrs. Lee, you need to take a good look at yourself and adjust your attitude, or you will be unable to find the happiness that you so desperately seek. I will say one more time: stop spying on me and my fiancé, or you will be removed from the island."

Without a further word, Mrs. Lee turned and stomped out of the house.

Keiki sat at the Hawaiian lounge bar nursing her second Mai Tai when she noticed something, or rather someone, sitting in one of the far corners of the establishment. What struck her as peculiar about the man was that he seemed to have few distinguishing features. He was neither plain nor handsome: his face and build were about as average as a man's could be. His clothing was in a similar style as that of the other patrons but the colour was a nondescript beige. When he noticed her scrutiny, he smiled and raised his glass to her.

She didn't really feel like talking to anyone, but then decided that it would be a good way to pass some time. Picking up her drink, she made her way across the room to the table where the man was sitting. "Mind if I sit with you?" she asked, and sat when he indicated the chair opposite him.

"You present the look of a woman with a problem, if I might say so," the man said. His voice sounded a bit gravelly, as if he was unused to speaking much.

"You could say that," she said. "Oh, forgive my manners. My name is Keiki." She extended her hand.

He shook her hand a bit hesitantly; his skin felt cool. "You may call me Ross. I'm pleased to meet you, Keiki. I know I'm a stranger to you, but perhaps talking about your woes would help."

She sighed and took a large mouthful of her drink. "I came here to see someone whom I hadn't seen in a long time, to find out if he would consider a relationship. But he already has someone."

Ross said sympathetically, "That must have been a terrible disappointment."

"That's an understatement," she grumbled. "Both of them said that I have no chance because they love each other. Realistically, I should just give up and go home, but I want to be with him too much."

"If I may ask," Ross said, "what would you say if you did have that chance?"

She couldn't help smiling. "Something that's been on my mind for years. That I love him and I want us to be together like it should have been from the time I first met him."

"Love is such a curious thing," Ross commented, looking thoughtful. "It causes people to take actions that they ordinarily wouldn't."

"Yes, well, people have been trying to find out what love really is about since forever," Keiki said. "There's no real way to know unless you experience it yourself."

Ross leaned forward conspiratorially. "Forgive me for saying so, but if you wish to be with this man so much, why not take action? What's preventing you from taking what you feel you so rightfully deserve?"

Taking another swig of her drink, she said, "That woman, that's what." She refused to call Andrea by anything else now. "She's with him almost all the time, so I can't get close. Not to mention, she can fight and I can't."

"There's more than one way to fight, you know," he said smoothly, and then patted her hand that wasn't wrapped around her glass. "I like you, Keiki. Maybe I could help you. If we played a trick on the woman to get her away from him for a little while, would that be enough for you to plead your case to the one you love?"

She stared at him. "You'd help me, a total stranger? What's in it for you?"

"Let's just say that I have my own interest in a certain woman." He smiled at her. "Perhaps if we work together, we can both have what we want."