(Seven years later... thought I'd visit the Island again.)

I got hung up on, or perhaps put off for too long, the last scene in this chapter. And thanks to my poor documentation, I have no idea what the original plan was. However, I DO think I MAY have remembered the plot while working on bringing you this chapter. So I wrapped up this chapter! A whole SEVEN YEARS after the last update.

Boy, my writing was NOT perfect in 2014 (how could it have been, I was 16), but the dialogue is so authentic that even though I haven't watched this show in years, I can hear their voices in my head upon re-reading. So while typing and reworking this chapter, I kept the dialogue. But a great deal of re-writing and re-phrasing has been done to meet my modern standard and I'm quite happy with the result. :) Could still be better (the structure of the original draft made it hard to work with), but I could say that for all my writing.

Chapter 8- Gilligan's Request

.~GI~.

The four had traveled through the jungle for about fifteen minutes. They had checked near the known location of the janupa bush, but since all the berries there were gone, the chances of finding Gilligan there were slim to none. "If we can find a second bush," Mary Ann pitched, "we'll find him! He can't have gone far from it." And, with any luck, they'd find the Skipper and the Professor too. But until they found another bush, their search was doomed to be blind.

But then Ginger saw something out the corner of her eye- a shadow. Something standing in the distance, through the trees and ferns. A thin figure on two legs- certainly no animal she'd ever seen. It had to be Gilligan. She almost called out, but something made her stop. "Everyone!" She pointed toward the shadow. "Over there! Look!" she whispered.

The shadow ambled along, as Gilligan would, but much slower. Sicklier. Every few feet he would stop, then shuffle off in a different direction. "Is that really Gilligan?" Mary Ann asked in disbelief.

"Well it certainly looks like Gilligan," said Mrs. Howell, peering at the figure through her spectacles.

"He doesn't look like he's going anywhere," muttered Mr. Howell. "He's just wandering aimlessly."

The shadow continued to trudge along, stumbling here and there. Mary Ann's heart clenched, whether from fear or from sheer concern. Poor Gilligan. But she couldn't approach him while he was like that. Who knew what he might do?

"Well, what are we waiting for? Shouldn't we be after him?" Mrs. Howell inquired. She tucked away her spectacles. "We can't just leave him wandering about in the jungle for the rest of the day."

"Oh... I don't like this," said Mary Ann, backing off. "He just doesn't look normal. Why would our Gilligan kidnap the Skipper and the Professor anyway?"

"If he keeps up this pattern of taking hostages, one of us could be next," said Mr. Howell. He clutched Teddy a little bit closer.

"Including Howells?" Mrs. Howell looked horrified.

"I'm afraid so, my dear," said Mr. Howell, drawing his wife closer.

"Well, what'll we do? He's right there!" whispered Ginger, pointing at the shadowy Gilligan.

Mary Ann swallowed her fear. She knew Mrs. Howell and Ginger were right. They had to do something. Leaving Gilligan to himself would be wrong. They were family, right? Family always looked out for each other, and helped one another.

Mr. Howell sighed, hesitant. His vice grip on his stuffed bear loosened, ever so lightly. "Well... Lovey, girls... As the only man left, I feel it is my duty to approach Gilligan."

"But Thurston! If something happens to you, who will protect us?" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, alarmed.

"We could always find some means of protecting ourselves," said Ginger. "Fortify the huts."

Mary Ann stepped forward. "Maybe I should go," she offered.

Ginger turned to her friend. "Why you, Mary Ann?"

"Well, he's only attacked the men so far. Maybe he won't attack a girl."

"Ridiculous!" burst Mr. Howell. "Absolutely ridiculous! You ladies must be kept safe! I'm going to speak with him."

"Oh, Thurston, do be careful," said Mrs. Howell, touching her husband's cheek.

"I shall, my dear." They shared a goodbye kiss on the lips. Then, with only a moment of further hesitation, the last man standing cautiously approached the shadow.

The foliage rustling beneath Mr. Howell's shoes alerted the figure to his presence. The shadowy figure froze in place, then turned to watch the man as he approached. The closer Mr. Howell drew to the figure, the more certain he became that it was indeed Gilligan. He wore the same droopy white sailor hat, red rugby, and blue jeans; the same worn-out sneakers. He was covered in fresh red berry juice now, from head to toe, and he had a look in his eyes. Glazed-over, yet dark; mostly blank. But somewhere in those pools of seawater was a glimmer of sickness, and of anger too, however submerged.

He didn't utter a word; he only stared as Mr. Howell came closer.

"Gilligan? Gilligan, my boy, are you in there?" he questioned. Gilligan only blinked in response. So far so good, thought Mr. Howell, edging closer to the boy. "Gilligan!"

Gilligan tensed up, brow furrowing. Mr. Howell froze. "Gilligan! It's only me, Thurston Howell."

"Mr... Mr. Howell?" Gilligan's brow lifted. He seemed to unwind, though his eyes remained a tad glazed.

"Yes, my boy! I-Is that you in there?"

Gilligan shrugged. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Mr. Howell breathed an inward sigh of relief. He stepped out of the trees and approached Gilligan, certain that the young man was all right. And, Mr. Howell had to give it to him- remarkably calm considering the situation! "You're an absolute mess!"

"Yeah," said Gilligan. He grinned. "Those berries sure are messy."

"I'll say!"

The girls watched the scene from a distance. "I think it's working," whispered Ginger. A calm, relaxed Gilligan exchanged words with the now unafraid Mr. Howell. "He seems normal again."

Mary Ann shook her head. "I'm not so sure," she said. Gilligan still seemed off. He was too calm, too still, too laid-back. Maybe they should join Mr. Howell, just to make sure he'd be all right...

Too late. Fast as a bullet, Gilligan forced his arms around Mr. Howell's neck and tackled him to the ground. The women all gasped. Mary Ann's head spun.

"Thurston!" cried Mrs. Howell, running as fast as she could. The girls chased after her, crying out for Mr. Howell, and for Gilligan to snap out of it. But by the time they reached the clearing, both men had vanished. Only Mr. Howell's Teddy remained, a few splatters of crimson juice now staining its brown fur. Beside the bear, drag marks scarred the soil, disappearing into the jungle foliage a few feet away. Mrs. Howell picked up the bear and cradled it.

"Well... that's the end of the men," sighed Mary Ann. "Besides Gilligan."

Ginger shook her head, green eyes shimmering with uncried tears. "I hope my hypnotism didn't cause all this," she sniffled. "You all would never forgive me..."

Mary Ann squeezed Ginger's hand. "This wasn't your fault, Ginger."

"I hope not." Ginger dipped her head.

After a moment of silence, Mary Ann lifted her chin. "We should find Gilligan as soon as possible," she said. "Mr. Howell and the other men might be nearby!"

"Oh, I do hope he isn't hurt," said Mrs. Howell.

The women followed the trail of drag marks and footsteps as far as they could. Mary Ann took note of another janupa bush as they walked past. It was still full of berries. The drag marks stopped beside the bush- doubtlessly Gilligan stopping to have a snack. But the marks reappeared from a different location, much closer to the bush this time. Following the trail further brought them to a dead end, much to their disappointment. But then Mary Ann noticed it: a pair of white sneakers poking out from behind a large tree.

She quietly alerted the other women. The three silently and unanimously decided to approach. Cautiously and slowly, they drew nearer to Gilligan. Hey lay passed out, eyes shut and head tilted to the side. His hat lay about a foot away from his head, upside down. Mr. Howell was nowhere to be seen.

"He's unconscious," said Mrs. Howell. "Do you suppose it's safe to touch him?"

"I don't know," said Mary Ann.

Mrs. Howell gestured toward Gilligan. "Well we can't just leave him lying there all night."

Ginger shook her head sadly. "Poor Gilligan."

At the sound of his name, Gilligan stirred. He grunted and turned his head; his lips parted slightly, then closed again. The women backed off. Gilligan's eyes blinked open. He craned his neck, staring at the fuzzy figures above him. Slowly, they came into focus. "M... Mary Ann?" he questioned. "Ginger? Mrs. Howell?"

"Yes, Gilligan. It's us," said Mary Ann, breathing a sigh of relief.

"But are you you, dear boy?" Mrs. Howell inquired.

Gilligan's eyes sparkled with confusion. "But... Mrs. Howell, aren't I always me? Boy, if I'm not me..." He sat up. A piercing pain shot through the back of his skull as he did. He drew his hand to his head, then noticed the sticky red coating all over it. He drew his hand back with a frown. "Oh."

Convinced that Gilligan was himself again, Mary Ann knelt down beside him and set a hand on his shoulder. "Are you OK, Gilligan?"

"Yeah, I think so," said Gilligan, distant. He rubbed the back of his head, still tender. "I must've hit my head real hard though." He looked around, taking in his surroundings. This was the jungle, not the girls' hut. Ginger was here, Mary Ann was here, and Mrs. Howell was here. Great! But...

The color drained from Gilligan's face. "Where's Mr. Howell?"

The women wished they could tell him that Mr. Howell was fine, but they couldn't. "You... you took him away," Ginger admitted at last.

Gilligan drooped, his face the perfect expression of shame.

.~GI~.

Gilligan spent the rest of the day in camp, sullen, quiet, and distressed. He didn't dare even close his eyes, lest that berry-obsessed fiend come back. Nobody wanted to disturb him. Nobody wanted to go back out into the jungle, since the sun was setting. Dinnertime arrived, but nobody felt like eating, so nobody cooked. The whole camp resonated with a deafening silence.

Gilligan paced around camp, deep inside his own thoughts. None of the women liked seeing the usually cheerful and talkative young man like that, so silent and forlorn; much less would they like the thoughts swirling through his head. Thoughts of self-blame and loathing. Thoughts that Gilligan couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.

This was all his fault. It was always his fault. But this time, his friends were getting hurt. Well, no more. Gilligan didn't want to hurt anyone else. And by golly he'd make sure he wouldn't.

Just as everyone was getting ready to go to bed, Gilligan knocked on the door to the girls' hut.

"Come in," said Mary Ann. The door parted open, and in shuffled a timid Gilligan, hazel eyes flitting back and forth between the girls. "Hi, Mary Ann. Hi, Ginger," he said. He nudged the door shut behind him and stood in front of it, wringing his hands. "Can I ask you girls a question?"

"Go ahead," said Ginger.

Gilligan cleared his throat, eyes darting from girl to girl. "You should probably sit down for this," he cautioned. Both Mary Ann and Ginger sat down on their beds, watching Gilligan with earnest eyes. Gilligan took off his hat and began to fiddle with it, nervous. "I... I... I need to ask a fa... a favor," he stammered.

Mary Ann's deep brown eyes shone with worried curiosity. "What kind of favor?"

"Well, ah..." He rubbed one finger behind his ear, shifting his feet. "If I... If I come to get you, in the night... don't be afraid to..." He swallowed a massive lump in his throat. "...To hit me, in the head."

Ginger gasped, her hand rushing to her heart. "Gilligan!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?! Why, we would never-"

"It's OK, Ginger," said Gilligan. "I don't mind. I've taken enough hits from the Skipper, I've gotten used to it." A flash of his old warmth returned to his features.

"But Gilligan, we couldn't hurt you!" Mary Ann exclaimed, rising to her feet.

"You have to if you don't want to end up with the others," said Gilligan, desperate. "I don't want to hurt anyone else!" He paused to take a deep breath. He stared back at the girls, blue eyes pleading. He clutched his hat close to his chest. "Please?"

The girls shared worried looks. Neither of them wanted to hurt Gilligan, but what other choice did they have? If Gilligan's alter ego came for them in the night, they needed to fight back. There was no alternative; somebody needed to take a swing.

"All right," said Mary Ann. "We agree... but we won't enjoy a bit of it!" Both girls began to sob.

Gilligan didn't know what to do when girls cried; it made him nervous. "So, um... I'll just go and warn Mrs. Howell," he stammered, slipping out of the hut.

.~GI~.

The girls couldn't sleep that night. They tossed and turned in bed, and each took turns guarding the other's back. Eventually, both of them sat awake, keeping watchful eyes trained on the door. A single lantern sat on the dresser by the window, just to let Gilligan know they were still awake and ready to fight back. Ginger gripped a gourd pot and Mary Ann clutched a frying pan. Despite the brave front, both girls were tense, and beyond scared.

Someone knocked on the door. The girls sat silent, frozen; neither dared to move. After ten seconds, the someone knocked again, louder this time.

Ginger stared at Mary Ann, eyes wide. "Well? Aren't you going to answer the door?"

"I thought you were going to answer the door," Mary Ann hissed back.

Knock knock knock knock!

"Let's both answer the door," Mary Ann whispered.

Ginger nodded. "Good idea."

Both girls sneaked up to the door, weapons poised and ready to strike if necessary. Mary Ann grabbed the doorknob and looked Ginger in the eye. She nodded. Biting down the hesitation, Mary Ann swung the door open, lifted her frying pan, and...

The visitor backed away from the door, hands raised in surrender. "Whooooah, easy there!" he exclaimed. "J.P. Morgan, girls, just what do I look like? A common burglar?"

Mary Ann and Ginger dropped their weapons in astonishment.

"Mr. Howell!?"

.~GI~.

The original author's notes for this chapter reveal why I never finished the chapter: Fandom Burnout. It's why today, I try not to work on any more than two or three individual stories at a time. So, uh... hello, Islanders. New and old readers alike. I'd love to return to this fandom in good time; there's still SO much appeal here.

Be patient with me before the next update. I am steeped in another fandom and can't afford to dive headfirst back into the lagoon at this time. Unless it is a brief adventure, just to refresh my mind on the settings and dialogue. But if I get back into this fandom I want to be all-in.

Please review, or else gawk in amazement that I updated this fic after seven whole years. I know there are some newer fans out there because all my Gilligan's Island fics have been getting multiple hits this month. I probably don't even know some of you! Hello there. :)

-Cy