The Fallout

Gilligan and Mary Ann sat side by side at the table, a steaming bowl of soup in front of each of them.

Mary Ann had gotten changed and given Gilligan back his shirt, which he now noticed smelled like her (and champagne and oysters and general wilderness). Both wore sunglasses to guard against the still-blinding morning light, Gilligan obliviously sporting Ginger's white cat's eye shaped glasses adorned with rhinestones.

He also hadn't washed the lipstick off his face. The longer he sat there like that in the sober light of day, the more uncomfortable Mary Ann got. She still wasn't entirely sure how it had gotten there, but she was pretty sure that it was her fault.

They looked up from their soup to find the five other castaways staring down at them from across the table. Ginger was smirking, but the men seemed utterly unamused, arms crossed in disapproval. Mr. Howell gently cradled the champagne bottle that Gilligan brought back to camp in his arms, pouting down at it with tears in his eyes.

"Lovey!" he wailed, "They drank my 1921 Dom Perignon! They only made a thousand of these!"

"Thurston, hush!"

"It was going to be worth a fortune some day!" He suddenly rounded on the Skipper. "Make him walk the plank, Captain! And her! We'll send her to the nunnery!"

"Thurston, be quiet!" Mrs. Howell swatted her husband on the arm and he pouted again, but nonetheless stayed silent.

"We don't feel well," Gilligan finally offered.

"I'm not surprised," the Professor replied and the clearing descended into silence again.

Gilligan shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "That means someone has to tell us a story."

Ginger expertly raised one incredulous eyebrow. "I think maybe you should be telling the story."

"Okay." Gilligan carefully put his spoon down. "One day, my Aunt Sarah decided to go to Atlantic City. So she signed up for one of those bus trips that all the old people take. She won three whole dollars at the casino, even though she had put ten in the machine. But then –."

"GILLIGAN!" the Skipper roared and both the first mate and Mary Ann covered their ears. "Not that kind of story! We want to know why you two never came home last night!"

"I know why."

"Ginger, that's enough!" he barked and she flinched, mouth opening in offense. "We were worried sick! Tell us what happened!"

"We can't," Mary Ann finally chimed in.

"That's right, Captain." Mrs. Howell turned around to peer up at the Skipper from her place on the bench. "It's none of your business."

"No," Mary Ann countered quickly. "We just can't remember," she added quietly, gazing into her soup in humiliation.

It was quiet for a moment, until the Skipper turned to Gilligan. "Little buddy?" he began in a much softer tone and Gilligan looked up from where he was watching Mary Ann blush into her bowl. "You don't remember how you ... um ..." He pointed helplessly at the first mate. "... on your face?" Gilligan curiously touched his cheek and gasped as he was instantly reminded of his condition. "Or how this ... ep ..." The Skipper turned a light shade of red and waved widely at the piece of blue fabric still on the table. "... how that happened?"

Gilligan glanced around the clearing, avoiding the five pairs of eyes on him. He had been getting flashes, snippets of things, all morning, but he wasn't sure if they had actually occurred, were figments of his imagination, or were from the dreams he had the night before. He wasn't sure if the dreams were real either or if he just had a better imagination than he thought.

But every once in a while, mostly when Mary Ann was within his field of vision, images would suddenly flash before his eyes for the briefest moment.

Drawing little people in the sand. Slinging Mary Ann over his shoulder to carry her out of the ocean. Chasing her down the beach as an evil Marubi. Catching her.

Gilligan swallowed hard and absentmindedly scratched his leg. His hand caught on something in his pocket and he curiously dug it out.

Gilligan held the pearl up in the sunlight and his eyes widened behind the sunglasses. He suddenly saw himself holding the pearl up in the moonlight the night before. He saw Mary Ann gasp as he pulled it from the oyster. Heard her squeal with delight. Felt her kiss him heartily when he gave it to her.

"Gilligan?" He slowly turned from the pearl to the Skipper's expectant face. As his gaze passed Mary Ann, Gilligan noticed her mouth open in recognition when she saw the pearl. "Do you remember where that came from?"

Before Gilligan could remember how to formulate a coherent sentence, the Professor interjected. "Folks, why don't we give them some quiet to eat and recover, alright? Let's leave them alone."

"Isn't that how this whole thing started?" Mr. Howell huffed and the Skipper gave him a shove toward his hut.

"Once they feel better, perhaps they'll remember more."

"I still say it's none of your business," Mrs. Howell scolded as she and Ginger begrudgingly stood. "A lady doesn't kiss and tell." Mary Ann groaned quietly and lowered her head until she was practically drowning in her soup.

"Behave, you two." Ginger winked at the pair as the Professor practically pushed her away from the table.

Mrs. Howell hesitated for a moment, guiltily surveying the sorry scene before her. She fidgeted with her diamond ring, twisting it on her finger fretfully. "I'm sorry," she finally admitted. "I just wanted –. I think you –."

She sighed and rounded the table to return to her hut. As she passed behind Mary Ann, Mrs. Howell paused. Mary Ann saw the older woman glance at her shoes, purse, and what was left of her dress, taunting her from the other side of the table. She bent slightly to whisper to the young girl. "Darling, what happened?"

"We fell."

Mrs. Howell smiled and squeezed Mary Ann's shoulder. "Good." She straightened up and raised her voice again. "Well! If you need me, feel free to stop by without an invitation." She waved a gloved hand in their general direction as she breezed back to her hut.

When they were alone, Gilligan and Mary Ann spent the next ten minutes pretending that they weren't doing their best to avoid acknowledging the other's presence. They glanced around the clearing, studied their soup intensely, suddenly found the tabletop incredibly interesting. Mary Ann thought she saw Ginger peeking from the supply hut for a moment before the Professor pulled her from the window.

Mary Ann took a deep breath and heaved a sigh that could move mountains. When she finally summoned the courage to peer over at Gilligan, she was rewarded with a sudden image flashing before her eyes and she gasped. She didn't remember being perched in his lap, but she could still almost feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt under her fingertips, the weight of his arm around her waist, his other hand resting on her leg.

Upon hearing Mary Ann gasp, Gilligan made the mistake of turning toward her. By the time Mary Ann had recovered enough to steal another look in his direction, she discovered him shaking his head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge a particularly alarming image.

Mary Ann braced herself for another shocking flash, but was pleasantly surprised by what she saw instead. Gilligan presenting her with a giant bouquet of flowers. An inharmonious sing along. Holding onto his hand as she followed him down the steep hill into the valley so he could show her the field of avocado trees he had discovered.

"I wish we had found two pearls. I'd kind of like a pair of earrings."

"What?"

"You're supposed to make me something with it, remember?"

Gilligan stared at her for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. "Oh, yeah. What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Gilligan set the pearl down on the table and peered into his soup. "So, you remember things?"

She shrugged. "Just pieces. You taught me your song."

"Yeah?"

"I made you change the ending." She hesitated a moment. "Do you remember anything ... interesting?"

"No!" Gilligan flinched at the intensity of his own answer. "I mean ... no."

Mary Ann shifted uncomfortably. "Me neither." She peered at him sidelong, afraid of what might pop into her consciousness should she actually look at him. "You really need to wash your face."

"Sorry."

"You look like a Marubi." The corner of her mouth twitched in a small smile.

Gilligan grunted around his spoon and Mary Ann laughed. They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Mary Ann finally put her spoon down and pushed her bowl away.

"This soup is awful."

"And they didn't even tell us a story."