This one's for you, Teobi. Especially the rainbows and the shorts, haha.

The next morning dawned as awkwardly as possible as Mary Ann woke up to find Gilligan in her tent and herself in his lap. He was passed out sitting up, head hanging forward with his forehead resting on the top of her head. He was snoring gently into her ear.

Gilligan then woke up to find that Gladys had commandeered his tent and was curled up on his blanket and perusing one of his comic books as if she could actually read it and appreciate Superman's exploits. He kicked her out and she screeched at him, pulling him into her arms and making mocking snoring noises right in his face.

"Knock it off, Gladys! You're so nosey!" Gilligan freed himself and she ran off into the jungle, whooping and chattering her gorilla laugh.

From the next tent, he heard Mary Ann giggle. "She loves you."

"She drives me crazy. She's ..." He trailed off as he noticed that the rising morning sun was shining into the clearing at the perfect angle to project Mary Ann's shadow onto the white sheet used to build her tent. Inside, she was getting changed for the day. Her shadow slid her short shorts up over her hips.

"She's what, Gilligan?" Mary Ann called.

"Shorts," he muttered.

"What?"

"She's short!" he blurted.

Mary Ann laughed. "Gilligan, she's a monkey!"

"I mean ... she's really annoying for ... something so ... short." He turned away and shook his head violently. He smacked himself on the forehead to dislodge the image, plus the subsequent images that his brain decided to create without his consent.

"Are you okay?" Mary Ann asked, suddenly right behind him, and he jumped. She tried to lay her hand on his forehead, but he stepped back. "Gilligan, do you feel alright?" Mary Ann stepped forward and went up on her toes, tugging at his shirt with one hand so she could feel his forehead with the other. "You're a little warm," she decided, stepping back again.

Gilligan was using every ounce of his willpower to keep looking at her face, but the more she scrutinized him the more he wanted to look away and there was only one place that his brain would direct his eyes at that moment – down.

This didn't go unnoticed by Mary Ann and she looked down at her shorts, thinking he was trying to tactfully tell her that she'd sat in something or the zipper was undone. "What's the matter?" She twisted around to look at the back, arching her back and peering over her shoulder. "I can't see." She turned her back fully on Gilligan. "Am I okay?"

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean – I mean you – you should wear pants from now on. Every day. We better get back to camp. We have a busy day ahead of us, what with getting blown up and everything." Gilligan began flying around the campsite collecting things and finally dove into her tent to gather the blankets.

Mary Ann watched his shadow through the sheet. He shook his head again and she began to realize that if she could see him, then he could see her. Gilligan emerged from the tent with an armful of blankets and shoved them into his duffel bag before abruptly pulling down the offending sheet and rolling it up into a ball. The more he went about his business without looking at her, the funnier Mary Ann began to find the whole situation. She fought to keep a straight face as she packed up and they began heading back to camp in silence.

Mary Ann watched him trudge forward steadily in front of her. He was rushing and she had to trot to keep up with him. When she did end up ahead of him on the trail once or twice, he would speed up until he was safely in front of her again and Mary Ann would bite back her laughter. Gilligan was looking sufficiently distracted and flustered by the time they reached the hut and Mary Ann was grinning widely, trying not to laugh outright at him.

"You didn't stay in your own tent, did you?" Ginger blurted as soon as she saw them emerge from the jungle. Mrs. Howell and Ginger had been poised on the edge of the clearing for over an hour now waiting for them to return and hoping for some proper gossip. Gilligan blanched and tripped over his own feet, nearly falling over with a pile of camping supplies on top of him.

"Ginger!" Mary Ann exclaimed, immediately horrified.

"Well, did you?" Ginger pressed. Gilligan's confusion and his inability to tell a convincing lie resulted in him stammering so severely that the actress finally just smiled and laid a gentle hand on his chest to make him stop. Ginger shot Mary Ann a proud smile.

"Ginger! I had a nightmare!"

"Aw, and the dear boy went to comfort you," Mrs. Howell cooed, touched but a little disappointed.

Unfortunately, Gilligan chose this moment to recover. "She kept yelling my name."

Ginger grinned and winked at the first mate. "Good for you, Gilligan."

# # # #

Mary Ann stood tentatively on the edge of the clearing. The Skipper sat at the table listening intently to the radio, as he'd been doing nonstop for the past few days. She folded and refolded Gilligan's list nervously. She hadn't spoken to the Skipper since their encounter in the jungle the day before and she hoped he wasn't still angry. Once Ginger finally stopped teasing her, the actress told Mary Ann that he'd calmed down and felt awful and suggested that he might know the mystery behind Gilligan's last list item.

She was about to approach the table when he looked up suddenly and she froze in her tracks. The Skipper turned off the radio for the first time in two days and stood, meeting Mary Ann in the center of the clearing.

"Hi, Skipper."

"Mary Ann, I'm sorry. I –."

"It's okay, Skipper. You were right. We do act like children sometimes."

The Skipper took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. He looked even more exhausted than he had yesterday, if possible. "Honestly, Mary Ann, I think you two have the healthiest approach to this."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

Mary Ann unfolded Gilligan's list and handed it to the captain. "Do you know what the last thing on here means?" The Skipper took the paper and squinted at it. "I'd like to help him finish it before ... you know. It's the only one left."

The Skipper replaced his cap and looked up from the list for a moment. "What about you? Is he helping you with your list?"

Mary Ann shrugged. "I didn't do my list right. Everything on it is pretty impossible, but he's trying." She suddenly grinned and her whole face lit up brighter than the lighthouse at Diamond Head and the Skipper imagined she could lead him into Honolulu Harbor just as safely. She stepped forward and laid her hand on his arm. "Skipper," she whispered, awe-struck and still brimming with exhilaration. "We flew."

The Skipper chuckled and shook his head. "Don't tell him I told you this, Mary Ann, but Gilligan has a knack for being able to somehow make the impossible possible. Or at least make you feel like you're doing something impossible while doing something completely possible. Maybe that's because he's being impossible while you're doing it." The Skipper blustered a little and Mary Ann smiled. "You see? He's not even here and he's driving me crazy!"

"I know what you mean. But look at his list – everything on there is so darn achievable. Except the last one, but that's only because I don't know what it means."

The captain studied the list. He frowned and turned it toward her, pointing at the crossed-off Tame a lion. "That's me, isn't it?" Mary Ann nodded sheepishly, but to her surprise the Skipper chuckled again. "In the Navy he was the only one who could calm me down when I went off at the other guys. Usually because he'd get me so mad at him that I'd forget why I was yelling at them in the first place."

"You know him so well that Ginger thought maybe you'd know what the last one means."

The Skipper returned to studying the list. "Dance with A.M. Gilligan can't dance. And who's A.M.?"

Mary Ann shrugged. "I was hoping you'd know. He said he didn't even really want to dance with them anymore, but it's something that happened a long time ago that still bothered him. I guess he wants to be at peace with it."

The Skipper was peering at the sheet of paper and mumbling to himself. "Dance? He told me a story about his eighth grade dance once, but I was busy trying to fix the radio on the Minnow and he was just sitting there on the dock babbling away, so I wasn't really paying attention. It was a serious Gilligan story, though." The Skipper was speaking aloud as he thought and Mary Ann didn't dare interrupt him while he was riding a train of thought that seemed to be running on schedule. "A.M.? You sound familiar," he muttered at the paper, "Who are you? A.M. A.M..." Mary Ann was about to thank the Skipper for the information that he could give her when he suddenly smacked the paper with the back of his hand. "Annemarie Martin!" he shouted victoriously.

Mary Ann's eyes widened. "Who's that?" she demanded, a little more indignantly than she meant to.

The Skipper eyed her strangely for a moment. "Well, it could be her, but I can't know for sure. Annemarie was in his class. He mentioned her only a few times. Skinny Mulligan put two thousand marbles in her locker once." The Skipper smiled at the story. "And he switched the dead frog she was supposed to dissect in science class with a live one. She screamed blue murder and got slime in her hair and went to the nurse." He suddenly started laughing. It started small and kept building until his great booming laugh nearly shook the entire island. "She had to go home early because of her nerves! And then he put ants under her desk." By now the Skipper was in tears, his face and neck turning red. He needed this laugh more than he realized and suddenly found that he couldn't stop. "Halfway through her history test she jumped up and started screaming and scratching and ran all the way home! Skinny tortured that poor girl!"

The Skipper wiped his eyes and Mary Ann shoved her hands onto her hips. She didn't want to feel bad for this girl, but she couldn't help it. After hearing Skinny's description of true love the previous night, Mary Ann was a little in love with him herself, but now she wasn't so sure. "Why?"

The Skipper sucked in a deep breath to calm himself down. "Apparently she deserved it. She did something to Gilligan and Skinny went to war. I'd have done the same. I always told my little buddy that if Skinny Mulligan ever wanted to enlist I'd be proud to have him on my ship."

Mary Ann immediately grew concerned. Skinny was a hero again. "What did she do?"

"I don't know. You know how Gilligan leaves those parts out of his stories. It might have something to do with the dance, but I don't know. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"That's okay, Skipper. You've helped a lot. Thank you." Mary Ann took the list, carefully folded it and slid it back into her pocket. She looked up at the Skipper; for a moment he had seemed like his old jolly self, but now he looked tired and drawn again. He started to reach for the radio to turn it back on, but Mary Ann suddenly leapt forward and threw her arms around him.

Mary Ann loved Skipper hugs. He was like a big, strong, cuddly, protective teddy bear and when he folded you up in his arms, you disappeared. Sometimes when he was really happy, he'd impulsively scoop you up and swing you around in an exuberant circle. There were no exuberant circles today and his embrace felt remarkably less strong, but Mary Ann squeezed her arms around him like she'd cling to her uncle when she was a little girl.

"Skipper, what's on your list?"

"Beat the Belly Buster at Barnacle Bill's."

Mary Ann looked up at him incredulously. "That's what Gilligan said you'd say."

The Skipper nodded solemnly. "It's a very big honor. They put your picture up on the wall and everything."

Mary Ann giggled. "Seriously, Skipper. If you could only do one thing before it comes, what would you do?"

He sighed and stared off into the jungle. He tightened his arms around her shoulders and she felt a little of the familiar strength return. "I'd save you."

Mary Ann hugged him tighter. "You already did."

# # # #

"What about a Sun Dog? Or Red Tide?"

"Gilligan..."

"Eclipse? Supermoon?"

"Gilligan, dear, I don't believe you can plan those."

"Fire Rainbow? Double Rainbow!"

"Darling, please, you're giving me a headache." Mrs. Howell turned from rooting through one of her suitcases. She was holding a handful of Mr. Howell's neckties.

"I want people to think of me when they see a rainbow. You know ... after. Because they're happy."

Mrs. Howell froze in her tracks and stared at him. "Gilligan, that's beautiful."

"Then promise me you will."

Mrs. Howell smiled sadly. "Sweetheart, I'm coming with you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Gilligan looked devastated that the refined and poised Lovey Howell would be subject to the same cruel fate as the rest of them. He always thought the Howells were invincible. Then, just as quickly as he had become derailed, he was back on his original train of thought. "But do you think she'd like any of those things?"

"You can't just decide you want a double rainbow and suddenly it will appear." Mrs. Howell held up the ties one by one to decide which went best with his complexion. "You're not a leprechaun. Besides, I thought there were lists involved." Mrs. Howell came to a decision and tossed all but one tie over her shoulder where they landed like coils of silk snakes on the ground.

"Yeah, but Mary Ann didn't write as much stuff on her list as I did," he explained as Mrs. Howell buttoned the top button of his rugby shirt and slipped the tie under his collar. "I want to make it even."

Mrs. Howell laughed delightedly. "Gilligan, you can't pick something for someone else's list!"

"But I have four things on my list and she only has two. And we've done almost all of mine and only one of hers!"

"What if Mary Ann doesn't care about a double rainbow?"

"Yes, she will. They're pretty." Gilligan pouted and his brow furrowed with thought. "I think I did my list wrong," he blurted.

"Oh, pooh," Mrs. Howell admonished as she tied the tie into a perfect Windsor knot.

"All of her things are really good and mine are just normal stuff. Mrs. Howell," he breathed and she looked up from her work. He was grinning, looking at the same time incredibly moved and extraordinarily proud of himself. "We flew."

Mrs. Howell smiled back at him and gave the tie one final tug. She patted his chest lovingly. "You sweet boy. If she only had two things on her list, then maybe that's all she wants."

Gilligan was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. "But it's not. She has other stuff that she didn't write down. Don't you remember?"

Mrs. Howell froze for a moment, halfway into the makeshift closet, her hand gripping the shoulder of one of her husband's blazers. She sighed. "I remember, dear." Mrs. Howell returned to him with the jacket.

"And there's another thing she didn't write down either."

"Gilligan, turn around." He obeyed and Mrs. Howell slipped the jacket onto his back. "Darling ... most women want the same things out of life, but these things are not always in the cards for us all." She turned him around again, appraising him critically and wiping some invisible lint from his shoulders. "For example, I wanted children, but that wasn't my lot in life. Perhaps there are some things that you can't help her with."

Mrs. Howell picked up a white gardenia from the table and pinned it to the lapel of his jacket. She concentrated on pinning the flower at the perfect angle, avoiding his piercing gaze as he peered down at her, pondering her words.

"Isn't there something that you didn't write on your list?" Mrs. Howell suddenly asked, catching him off guard.

"Well ... yeah. But she also said she –."

"Gilligan, maybe you should focus on the other thing that she did write down. That's what she wants from you."

Still not satisfied with her handiwork, Mrs. Howell plucked the hat from his head and set it down on the table as she picked up a comb. "This will never do," she muttered, shaking her head and attacking his hair. Gilligan surreptitiously snatched his hat back and pushed it into his back pocket.

"But she wants to witness a miracle. How am I gonna make a miracle? I'm only a Gilligan."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Howell chided. "No one's 'only' anything."

"But –."

"Besides, you can't make a miracle, dear. Then it isn't a miracle anymore," Mrs. Howell explained. "Something will come about. Keep your eyes open." Mrs. Howell put the comb down and brushed his bangs back, patting his cheek gently. "Just make sure it means something to you both."

Gilligan eyed her suspiciously for a moment. Then he glanced down at himself. "Hey! What am I all dressed up for?"

Mrs. Howell chuckled at his obliviousness. "Carry this." She handed him a small cluster of white gardenias.

"What's this for?"

"Come on, dear. I'll show you." The older woman took his arm and led him from the hut and into the growing darkness of the evening.