DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. I don't Gilligan, I don't own Mary Ann, I don't own Kansas and Pennsylvania, I don't own a 24k gold necklace studded with pink diamonds. I wish I did, but I don't.
A/N: This will be one-shot, because I took a hiatus from writing, and I'm trying to get back into the swing. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
He sat in his rocking chair, doing just that. Rocking. Rocking and flipping through the pile of papers in his lap. Rocking and flipping and remembering those days on the island. Rocking and flipping and remembering and reading through those letters. They had kept in touch after she went back to Kansas, and he to Pennsylvania. But a week ago, he hadn't sent a letter, like normal. Instead, he sent a plane ticket.
DING DONG!
He placed the papers on the floor by his rocker, pulling a white cap over his balding white hair, and hobbled over to the door. "Coming!" The old man smiled, laughing in anticipation. She stood just behind the door, salt-and-pepper hair tied in pigtails at the nape of her neck. She was so beautiful, with twinkling blue eyes rimmed by smile lines, and her cheery disposition. Today was the day. The fifty year anniversary of their rescue. He looked around his apartment: He had spent the past week cleaning it up, placing daisies in vases, and hanging up that one large banner on the wall directly across the doorway. "Marry Me, Mary Ann" it proclaimed in bright yellow letters, surrounded by sloppily painted daisies, the product of two days of an old man wielding a paintbrush. Daisies were her favorite flowers.
DING DONG!
He laughed, shaking his head. Enough anticipation. He pulled down his cap, straightened his red shirt, and opened the door. There she stood: Blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun, flawless, youthful skin, dressed in a skirt and blazer. "M-Mary Ann?" He questioned, looking confused. No, this couldn't be her. She was never blonde! She had that lovely chestnut hair that he knew now was devoid of its color, like his own. She had told him this twenty years ago. She hadn't complained of aging, like he was sure Ginger would, if she had made it off the island… No, Mary Ann wouldn't have died her hair. She was proud of her age. It brought wisdom, and experience. And there wasn't enough botox in the world to make her look like this twenty-something that stood frowning before him.
"Mr. William Gilligan?"
"Yes? Yes?" He stumbled backwards, to let the woman into the room. His eyes flickered to the banner. Where was his Mary Ann? He had waited fifty long years… No, longer. Fifty since they had been rescued, which meant… How long? How long had he been on that island, waiting and wishing and hoping for rescue, praying for survival, in love with that beautiful woman but too shy to admit it. Today was the day. He was going to tell her he loved her. He knew she felt the same. Today was the day she would agree to be Mrs. William Gilligan. He had waited so long, where was she? Who was this woman who stood before him?
"I, regret to inform you…. Do you know a Mary Ann Summers?"
He nodded, and saw the woman look at the banner on the wall behind him. It was a pointless question. The old man stood in silence.
"I regret to inform you… That Mary Ann Summers has, passed away. During the night. She felt no pain, I assure you… I'm here to tell you that the reading of the will is scheduled for…"
Tears sprang to his eyes, memories of those days on the island coming with them. Today was the day he would say it. I love you Mary Ann.