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 6: Fallen

4 June 2014

By the time Andrea reached Coral Beach she'd worked off most of the negativity. Despite his suspicions, Rogan had still been correct: it was almost time for her to return home anyway. She did want to take her leave of Roarke, and wasn't surprised to find him already waiting for her. Knowing the island as well as he did, he'd probably taken a shorter route, or maybe even teleported.

He greeted her with a nod. "I must apologize for Rogan's disrespect," he said.

"Thank you, but I understood why: he was defending against a perceived threat. Please let me assure you again that I would not use my powers against anyone unless it was for a very good reason."

"I know, and I do trust you on that," he reiterated. "It appears that Ms. Galway has caused more problems than was anticipated." He became more pensive for a minute. "When I have the opportunity, I'll insist that she be informed that a neither a man's reputation nor his heart is a trifle – if those are even her reasons for being here."

"She probably won't take it well," Andrea cautioned. "Better to have her removed from the island quickly. It's unfortunate that so many people still believe that they can use their looks, wealth, or power to get what they want, without consequence."

"Selfishness is one human flaw that sometimes requires many lessons to understand," he said as he stepped closer to her. "And despite my efforts to espouse altruism, there are still times when even I fall victim to indulgence." He reached out and lay his hand on her cheek, his eyes full of affection. "After all that has occurred, I may finally admit to what I couldn't say to a certain sixteen-year-old on this very beach thirty years ago. Tell me, Andrea, how have you managed to capture my heart without even trying?"

She gazed at him in wonder before catching his hand in hers. Had Mr. Roarke, her mentor and friend, actually fallen for her? How could that have happened? "No words seem sufficient," she said. A number of men over the years had told her that there was something about her that they found attractive, even though she'd never considered herself as pretty. Maybe it was her natural shyness, kindness, empathy, or some combination of those. "But what I told Rogan was true. I still carry the feelings in my heart that I had for you back then. Only now I'm no longer innocent, and I no longer see you as a teacher, or even a celebrity, but as a man."

The look on Roarke's face showed that he was truly smitten. "And I see you not as a child or student, but as a woman," he murmured as he closed the distance between them. "Everything you've done has served to quicken a heart that had long ago given up on finding a compatible partner. Like you, I too have begun to wish that you had come before the Tribunal changed me." He leaned in close.

"Please don't, or then I'll be yours forever," she protested softly, her heart aflutter. "Besides, given all that happened, I thought that you never would fall in love again."

His deep brown eyes gazed into hers. "I'm afraid that it's too late for that."

The honesty that he was projecting touched her to the core, and she smiled with gentle amusement. "The great and mysterious Mr. Roarke is human after all."

"Only for a very special woman." Then he touched her slightly open lips with his own.

Their hearts expanded in joy as they twined their arms around each other and deepened their kiss. Neither was able to resist the sense of connection that they'd been experiencing since they'd seen each other again.

The elemental spirit within Andrea stirred and reached forth. As she had been as a teenager, she was drawn inexorably toward Roarke's powerful and benign nature. Despite the many enigmas that surrounded him, she knew that what they were sharing at this moment was real. Feeling comfortable for the first time in decades, she gave a gentle telepathic touch to his mind. Her new sense of him was of an entity that was ancient and inscrutable, yet pure.

Roarke broke the kiss abruptly and held her at arm's length, an expression of melded shock and denial on his face. "No…" he whispered.

"No, what?" she asked, confused.

"What was that touch on my mind that I just felt? Are you trying to get my defenses down, to control me? I couldn't believe that of you." He closed his eyes, as if trying to ward off the pain in hers.

She stiffened. "I…" Her words caught in her throat as she realized that she'd inadvertently committed a huge breach of telepathic protocol, which wasn't like her at all.

Roarke let her go. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have allowed that. I've too much to lose, too many responsibilities to let another into my thoughts."

Andrea gulped and tried to find her voice. She recognized his reluctance and desperately wanted to reassure him. "We touched, you and I. There's no coercion or force here; you should know that. How can you deny what our hearts are telling us?" Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, as internally she tried to clamp down on the elemental part of herself. This was not the time to lose control.

He shook his head and backed up a few steps. "I must remind you that there's too much at stake for a relationship between us to be possible. As well, my age is a detriment. What remains to me might be sufficient for a dalliance, but not for a long-term romance with an elemental host who could potentially exist for centuries." With a pained expression, he turned and walked away.

"Roarke," she called apologetically, but he didn't respond. Her chest suddenly felt that it had a large weight resting on it, and tears coursed down her cheeks. Intellectually, she knew why he had said what he did. He was much older than he appeared and likely had many secrets that shouldn't be spoken. He couldn't remain on Earth as long as he wanted to. And she could tell by his reaction that someone in the past had hurt him very badly and he didn't want to endure anything like that again.

But to her heart, all that didn't matter. Being in his arms for that moment had been blissful. Only one other, a wanderer whom she once had travelled with for a time, had ever affected her that much and accepted the whole of what she was.

With her return to this island, she had hoped that her maturity and perspective would enable Roarke to see her in a different light. She was no longer an infatuated teenager, but a grown woman capable of loving him as an equal. But she'd arrived a few years too late. Damn that Tribunal! Rather than subjecting any listening ears to it, she expressed a torrent of invective inside her private mind instead. Then with a sigh, she turned and gazed out toward the ocean.

Roarke hadn't gone far; he'd forced himself to stop and think things through. Although unexpected, in that instant when their hearts and minds had touched, he'd felt a vigor and euphoria like he'd never known. It should've been no surprise that the elemental spirit within her, being a creature of emotion, had reacted to their mutual affection. Because of that, he'd sensed a glimmer of the force of nature that Andrea truly was, and found it both wonderful and frightening. She was a being that was very capable of much violence, but also had the potential of even greater love if given the chance. And she was the polar opposite of the one who'd done him so much harm all those years ago.

He remembered his own advice, given to many a person who had sought him for guidance in their fantasies: from the heart's most troubled moments would come the courage and the wisdom with which to build new happiness. Also, to truly endure, love must be grounded in reality. Andrea's initial love for him had been that of an inexperienced youngster; a brilliant, although primitive emotion. However, despite the time and distance that had separated them, her love had grown and matured, never suffering from indifference or cynicism. Moreover, there had been no maliciousness or deceit from her at all; this was real.

Whether it was entirely his own heart, the island's influence, or both, he realized that he loved her deeply. If he were to deny that, to hide behind his practiced façade as he had done so many times before, he would indeed be guilty of the hypocrisy that she had accused him of. All the reasons he'd given himself for not getting involved were mere excuses. What worth, what risk, was he willing to place on his own happiness?

He walked back to the beach but Andrea stood facing the sea, with no indication at first of having heard him, although he was certain she could sense him. As he stepped forward, she turned to him silently. She'd been weeping, the traces of tears on her cheeks now drying in the warm ocean breeze, but she seemed calm now.

"Will you send me away again?" she asked bitterly.

Roarke shook his head. "No. No, I would not subject you to another such humiliation after what has passed between us. I will, however, offer you an apology for my conduct: it was unworthy of me to turn away. If I cannot understand you, the entirety of what you are, then any relationship we were to have wouldn't stand the test of time."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Apology accepted. However, you are still trying to justify non-involvement."

With a sigh he said, "Perhaps I am, but one also has to accept reality. Surely you must agree with that."

"I can agree, but that doesn't mean I must like it," she said in a crisp tone, and then, clearly unwilling to pursue the matter further at this moment, walked past him along the path back to the resort.

Andrea wandered into the Hawaiian lounge which was currently empty and darkened. Sitting at the piano, she dejectedly plunked a few notes before noticing the microphone on one end of the stage. Right now, there was nobody around to hear… It took only a minute to turn on an amplifier, connect her cellphone, and load up a karaoke version of "Takishi-do Mira-ju", a Japanese love song that she had memorized many years ago. With all her heart she sang along with the music, gradually building up to the crescendo of the final chorus.

Roarke had arrived as the music started, carefully masking his presence so she wouldn't sense him as readily. He stayed near the entrance, out of her line of sight, and listened to the song. While it had been a long time since he'd needed to speak Japanese, he could still understand every word, and was moved by the sentiment.

When the music ended and Andrea put the microphone back in its holder, he made his appearance, noting with some pleasure that she was startled into immobility. As he stepped up to the stage, she remained silent. There were times when a song was more meaningful than spoken words – he wanted to do what she had done, to sing something that illustrated his feelings, even though he hadn't sung a note for many years. What piece would be appropriate? There were so many possibilities that could describe their situation.

As he regarded her, the choice suddenly became clear, and he resolved to perform it. He queued the music and picked up the microphone, relishing her astonished expression as she recognized the opening notes of "Heroes".

Andrea was rapt. How had Roarke known that this song was one of her favourites? She hadn't become a fan of the artist until long after she'd left his tutelage. But of course, it was his business to know such things, wasn't it? His baritone voice filled the room, and she listened avidly.

Roarke put the microphone back on its stand when the song ended and faced her expectantly. She went to him and they embraced, kissing each other with such a depth of passion that once again her elemental spirit reacted, sending silvery strands of energy weaving around them for a moment. This time Roarke did not shy away, instead accepting Andrea's love and holding her close, wishing that he didn't need to leave.

When they reluctantly separated, he murmured, "I must return to the Realms."

"I know," she acknowledged. "I promise, I will find a way to help you… aroha."

His breath caught. This time, she hadn't called him matua as she had done for so long, or even by his name. Instead she'd used the native word for 'beloved'. No longer master and student, they were now equal. "Mi amada," he whispered as he gently clasped her to his heart once more. "Thank you."

After he released her, he stepped back and with a nod, he vanished.

Undetected by either of them, there had been an observer. One who thought to herself that this development was going to present a further opportunity.

7 June 2014

Over several days, Roarke made discreet inquiries of the various clan elders in the Realms and spent much time in their vast archives. Due to Andrea's concerns over her security, he'd decided to look for any mention of the elemental beings in his people's history. So far, he'd found only one, and that had been consigned to mythical status due to its outlandishness. A being of a similar description to Andrea's elemental form had single-handedly resolved a diplomatic dispute between two neighbouring kingdoms that would have gone to war otherwise. The powers she was alleged to possess rivaled those of several different clans combined – something that he knew now had been exaggerated, but was intriguing nonetheless.

He read through the record again more carefully. The incident had occurred more than five hundred years ago. Back then there must've been other elemental hosts whose existence had been lost to history, and the record he held was of one such. As far as he could tell, the being wasn't named, but was referred to obliquely as a word akin to the German "zeitgeist" – the spirit of the ages. It was impossible that it had been Andrea herself. His knowledge of her was quite clear that she'd been born in contemporary times.

Comprehension suddenly dawned on him, and he couldn't help but shudder. She was sensitive to the flow of time, as evidenced by the vision that she'd had. In many of their conversations she'd made little jokes and references concerning time. Andrea was not just an elemental; she was a time elemental. If the being in this record had in fact been her, that meant that she had the capability of time-travel. No wonder she hadn't wanted his people to know! Such power could so easily be used for corrupt ends.

Quickly he replaced the record in its proper location. By all rights, he should be afraid of her and what she represented. She'd even said during her initial meeting with his family: 'Much of the time, the monsters are frightened of me.' But he wasn't afraid; quite the opposite in fact. He'd touched her mind and he knew her in a way that nobody else could. As well, every one of her actions since arriving on the island had been done out of love, for the people and for him.

He owed her his silence in this matter. Carefully he locked his newfound insight into a corner of his mind in the hopes that it would remain hidden. If a Mind-Bender with telepathic ability were to read him deeply enough, there was a chance they too would find out. That would put Andrea's life, and likely the lives of her loved ones, at risk.

"Good day, Leader," said a female voice behind him. "Consulting the archives once again?"

Roarke turned and tried to place the location of the speaker. She wasn't the only one present in the chamber; he could sense that three others had entered with her. "I have been occupied with much research concerning the clans of late," he responded. "Is there something that requires my attention at this time?"

"In fact, there is," she said firmly. "My colleagues and I believe that you haven't been adequately discharging your obligations to our people. We intend to bring the matter up to the elders if you can't provide us with an explanation."

Maintaining a façade of calm, he said, "Charging me in absentia for dereliction of duty is spurious at best, and I doubt the elders would give it any credence. I sacrificed a great deal in order to accede to their wishes, and as yet I've not disappointed them. If you wish to continue this conversation, I must insist that you show yourselves. I will not debate with shadows." He didn't expect them to obey, because for most, assuming a corporeal form tended to be tiring. However, if they did, he would be able to ascertain their identities and hopefully gain the upper hand.

Four coloured cloud-like forms drifted into his field of vision, and he froze. Three of them he recognized instantly as the rogue Tribunal members that were supposed to be in prison, who'd come to be known as Yellow, Green, and Pink. The fourth was a dull reddish colour, enabling him to assume two things: that this was the one who had spoken first, and that she had assisted the others in escaping. "Aiding and abetting known felons carries an extremely heavy penalty," he said severely. He lifted his hands and attempted to weave a cell around them, only to have his power warded off. Startled, he took a step backward. The only one who'd ever matched his Matter-Shifter powers had been his late cousin. He was at a serious disadvantage here.

"You cannot imprison us that way again," Green gloated. "Red has long been honing her abilities for the purpose of opposing yours. Not only that, she was able to gain enough information about you to determine your weaknesses."

Roarke abruptly understood something and castigated himself for not realizing it sooner. "She was the one who assumed the alias of Ms. Galway. Being unable to teleport directly to the island because of the shield I placed, she masqueraded as a human in order to circumvent it. That was quite clever, but in the end, the approach failed."

"That was merely one thrust in a multi-pronged strategy," Red said. "My end goal remains the same: to discredit you sufficiently so that I might have a better chance at ascending to your position. Those other hidebound fools, Blue included, refused to consider the vision that I had in mind for our people when I presented it. Instead they wanted you, even though you'd spent millennia among those on the planet below instead of with your own."

Such arrogance disgusted Roarke; evidently, she had little empathy. "Living with the humans for so long gave me wisdom that I wouldn't have learned otherwise," he countered. "I expressed similar views when I was summoned here by the elders at the turn of the millennium, as you would know if you had attended my trial. Travel broadens the mind, and knowledge enlightens the soul."

"Romanticisms are hardly practical," said Yellow in his dust-dry voice. "Being the custodians of this world, we should be taking a more active role in its development. It has distressed some of us that your leadership has not been moving toward such; and instead you retain an undue interest in a small isolated island."

Roarke straightened to his full height and said icily, "It's not our place to interfere simply because we might have the power and means. My duty to our people, as was made clear from the beginning, was to advise and provide an ameliorating influence on those who don't appreciate this world or its residents as much as they should. That I have done to the best of my ability, in spite of certain adverse developments over the past two years." He gave them all a glare, not feeling the need to further elaborate. "Believing that matters had reached closure, I elected to spend some long-anticipated time with my family, for which I was given allowances."

Green pointed out, "That might have been true; however, of late you have been more frequently in the company of a young woman. She is not among your family members, and as such does not fall under the scope of the permission that you were granted."

"I consider her as family, by virtue of the fact that she was my pupil long ago."

"Do not argue semantics with us," said Pink. "My colleague is accurate in his assessment. Moreover, you have come under the influence of human weakness, which is another cause for your abrogation of your responsibilities. That alone indicates inadequacy."

"If by 'weakness' you mean that I possess the ability to love, then you are only partially right," Roarke responded, reining in his annoyance at their pettiness. "Love is not a weakness, but a strength, and is the creative energy of the universe. Regardless of my emotional state I have never shirked my duties, and I must ask you to provide proof if you insist otherwise."

Yellow said in a bored tone, "This discussion is becoming pointless. He has a rebuttal for every argument that we make."

Red said slyly, "Then let us embark on a more concrete course of action."

Without warning, all four of them converged on him.