Backward Fantasy

Fantasy Island/Emergency Crossover

I do not own the copyrights to either show

A/N: I yanked this story because when I went back and reread it; I cringed. So, while there are no major changes- I hoped what I did change makes a difference.

A/N 2: William E. Henley wrote " Invictus" in 1875, He died in 1903.Thank-you Lowenweiss for telling me that the first time I posted this a few years ago.

Backwards Request

Scene 1

'I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul' I was told that was spoken by William Ernest Henley by a high school English teacher; whether or not he was born, or died, in 1875 is something she did not say; I have not ever bothered looking it up either. Truth be told I hadn't thought about that particular quote in years' Dr. Early's words rang in Roarke's ear and only quit when the magistrate had turned his attention to other paperwork on his desk… they now came back to Roarke who was once again alone in his office.

"He wrote Invictus in 1875, and died in 1903" Roarke mumbled, and then tacked on. "Captain of my soul I may be, but it sure feels as the helm has just been ripped out of my hands." Roarke quit his silence musing as he growled and tossed a piece of paper into a nearby trash can only to have it fall out as Tattoo had not dumped it that morning like he was supposed to.

The reason for Roarke's foul mood was because of the current letter asking for a fantasy was not coming from the traditional guest. And the man making that request had not been satisfied with the formal denial via a rubber-stamped letter. It had been such a refusal which had brought the good doctor to his office last night.

"Roarke, I'm too old to play games." Dr. Early chose his words carefully knowing he wasn't supposed to have figured out how to get to Fantasy Island, let alone write Roarke a letter. "My wife died years ago, the only son I was blessed with was killed two years ago, and now I have a nephew who has been harassing me to no end. Seems to think his uncle should play dead just because I turned sixty." The good doctor wanted to, uncharacteristically to throw a breakable item, anything, against the wall, but he didn't. "I just want a young, legal and lawful, wife for seven days to show him I'm nowhere near ready to die. It will also be long enough to file a prenuptial, one so airtight that the best lawyer in town couldn't find a loophole, and give her what I don't want that so called relation of mine to have; he's an idiot. Yes, he may wake up and all this be unnecessary; however, at this point I'm not willing to take that risk." The good doctor had plowed ahead half-thinking Roarke would stop him before he had a chance to finish. "She'll get anything in the prenuptial after a week when I'll conveniently decide I was a fool for thinking love would find me a second time around." Joe threw out his own hands towards Roarke's direction and shook them just enough to show his own frustration, "Look, it's not like I'm asking you to rob the cradle in order to do it. As long as she's anywhere from 21 to 30 I'm perfectly okay with anyone you choose. Is that too much to ask?"

"I'm supposed to send guests from this realm your way because of their requests, not the other way around. This would be a backwards fantasy. Besides, what gives your nephew the idea you're loaded? I happen to know you don't live in some ritzy mansion. And it's not like anyone who saw you sitting in your front yard would suspect you have having an occupation that was so high paying by simply looking at you." It was true, Joe didn't dress in fancy suits, nor had he bought expensive lawn furnishings for the new house he'd recently purchased.

"So, when it comes to the realm thing… find someone here whose fantasy would fit mine and send them my way. I'll go home; problem fixed. And as to my nephew, like I already stated…at the present...he's a fool." Joe had stood up, but had refused to budge until Roarke finally consented to find the doctor a temporary wife.

"What a mess." Roarke stood up and walked to the window with his hands clasped behind his back. "Find someone whose fantasy matches his, sure, and when does he expect that?" The magistrate hadn't had anyone wanting to hook up with any character since the lady had fixated too much on the book Wuthering Heights. He didn't count the woman wanting to meet Shakespeare; she'd not had any love interest there.

Tattoo had been flirting with a couple of island girls, nothing new there either. Roarke did not even consider asking the native females simply because they had no clue who Joe Early was. Besides, they both had island men who were beginning to show interest. He'd not insult their intelligence. Sighing he unclasped his hands and went to sit down behind his desk; tapping is pencil so much that it drove Tattoo –who entered the room shortly thereafter, so crazy he had to leave because his boss would, or could, not stop.