This story stems from an idea I had awhile back, when discussing with writer Diamondsandpearls51 about the lack of G/G and Skinger stories on this sight. Not that I don't love Pinger, but there are tons of them, as there are tons of MAGS and very few MAPS. While I have my own preferences as far as pairings, I like to stretch my imagination and put the castaways in different scenarios. This one will be a Skinger... since the first one I wrote received a pretty decent response. I dedicate this story to all the Skinger fans... and my buddy, Diamonds for encouraging me to think outside of the box and to write whatever path my mind takes me. By the way, this story takes place in season two. ... sometime after the Miss Castaway contest. I'm not sure how old Ginger is suppose to be, but I'm going to guess her at 30.

The sound of the island birds roused Ginger Grant from her sleep. She groaned as she turned over and pulled her grass filled pillow over her head. The singing only persisted. She sighed as she tossed her pillow to the other end of the bed and rose to a sitting position. She licked her lips to relieve them from the dryness and stickiness that was caused from falling asleep with her mouth open. She rubbed at her still sleepy eyes, and finally stretched her body as far as she could to prepare her over relaxed muscles to a state of mobility.

As she unwrapped herself from her blanket to slip on a simple sundress, she noticed that Mary Ann was still sound asleep. She would be up in an hour or so to prepare breakfast. Everyone but Gilligan and the Skipper should have still been asleep. Right now, the two of them were out in the jungle. They were either chopping wood, getting fresh water from the spring, picking fresh fruit or coconuts, or getting a head start on the daily fishing. Perhaps she could go down and talk to one of them. Unless... the Professor was up. There was always the chance he had been burning the midnight oil on this project or that project.

Or perhaps it would just be better if she spent a little bit of time alone. Ginger needed time to think. She needed time to relax and to meditate on the fact that in a couple of days she would be turning thirty years old. Her twenties were officially over... probably much like her career at this point. She sighed as she realized that most of her hopes and dreams had died the day the Coast Guard had called off the search for the missing S.S. Minnow. Here is where she would live and die... a single, childless, unappreciated, barely discovered actress whose career had died before it had the chance to really be born. She thought about the countless movies she had been in. Not one was a starring role... not even a co-starring role. She had slowly been paying her dues for years, getting call backs to play as an extra or as a supporting actress. Her mother had always told her that each and every role in a movie held it's own importance...that it didn't matter what part she got as long as she was playing it to the best of her ability.

Ginger rolled her eyes as she thought of this. She continued to walk through the jungle as she thought about how invaluable she considered her mother's word. Her mother had also been an actress, though not a successful one. Ginger had done more movies in her short career than her mother had ever done. She was always the filler actress... playing a waitress, a secretary, an anonymous bus passenger... always given two or three short lines to bring contrast to whatever was going on in the scene. Her waning career had drawn her to drinking... and a couple of affairs. Though not a violent drunk, her mother would consistently argue with Ginger's father. The constant bickering had eventually dissolved their marriage. It didn't bother Ginger though. In fact, she was relieved in a way. The bickering had stopped. She had lived mostly with her father, who was much more leveled headed than her mother. Most of all, Ginger recalled her father taking time out of his busy schedule to build her a swing, which he attached to a large oak tree out in his huge backyard.

Even though almost a teenager, Ginger loved that swing. It reminded her of the swing that had been at their old house. That old tire swing had been her refuge when her parents would argue. She could swing for hours on end, getting lost in her imagination. She would close her eyes, pretending she was either a bird, an angel, or a trapeze artist. The constant back and forth would have had the ability to lull her to sleep too if only she had allowed it to do so.

Ginger sat down on a log, buried her face in her hands and began to weep. Birthdays were suppose to be a wonderful thing, not a sorrowful thing. She was not looking forward to this birthday at all. Had she been back in Hollywood, Debbie Dawson would have taken her on a shopping trip down Rodeo Drive. Perhaps they would have gotten pedicures, had a nice lunch, maybe taken a walk down the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Maybe there might have been a party filled with friends and colleagues to wish her well to this new decade of her life. Here she was though, stuck on an island with two stuffy millionaires, a man of science whom she couldn't understand, an inept.. but loveable... First Mate and his hot tempered Captain. Last of all was a simple country girl, which of whom Ginger loved like a little sister, that had no clue of the exciting and thrilling life of an actress.

They were good people in their own way, Ginger had thought. Surely they would try to make her birthday special. All seven of them were so different, but they all had been doing their best to survive and get along with each other. So far, no one had killed anyone else. No relationship had been severed. At least Ginger was grateful of that. Seeing her parent's broken marriage had been enough for her to go out of her way to be peaceable to others.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a warm, strong hand on her shoulder.

"Ginger, are you alright?" She heard the robust voice say to her. She had heard the voice a million times, but something about the comforting tone of his voice had sent a tingle up her spine. She wiped her eyes as she cleared her throat to respond to the Skipper.

"Not really," she said, as she patted the log to invite him to sit with her. "I just have alot on my mind. Probably nothing you want to hear. You probably have a ton of things to do today."

"Try me," he said as he locked eyes with her. He waited in anticipation to hear Ginger's story. Ginger blushed, but she wasn't sure why. His deep blue eyes were fixated on her. She noticed she found something appealing about his soft and sympathetic countenance. Her heart fluttered for a moment, but shrugged it off as she took a deep breath so she could explain her situation.

"I'm going to be turning thirty in a couple of days... and instead of being happy about it, I'm miserable. There was so much I wanted to do before I turned thirty. I wanted to have my first starring role. I wanted an Oscar. I wanted... someone special. I was getting so tired of Hollywood pretty boys that had only one thing on their mind." Ginger looked away and blushed very deeply. In spite of having a little bit of experience under her belt, she was a bit old fashioned deep down. It felt awkward to be discussing her relational issues with another man. Of course, she knew if anyone understood, it would be the Skipper. He had been around the block a few times... so to speak. All the Howells ever had was each other. Gilligan and the Professor were both clueless when it came to women. Mary Ann admitted she had a few boyfriends... but nothing serious. She was still holding out for her Prince Charming.

"Well, you won't find any Hollywood pretty boys here," the Skipper said with a slight smile. "None of us are Hollywood, and we're definitely not pretty."

"Oh Skipper! I"m being serious! Really, I'm not looking forward to this birthday. Please tell everyone not to make a fuss... huh?"

"Nonsense!" The Skipper retorted. "Of course we want to celebrate your birthday. You're important to us Ginger. You are worth celebrating. What does it matter that you haven't done all of those things yet? You're still young. We could still be rescued. You'll have your chance once we're home. Think about it... don't you think being stranded on and surviving on a deserted island for over two years won't be good publicity for you?"

"Skipper, you just don't understand. Me being here is not my sole reason for concern. I'm afraid... afraid I'll turn out like my mother."

"Your mother? What's wrong with her?"

"Have you ever heard of Natalie Carmichael?"

"No."

"That's my mother... and most people haven't. Her movie career was an absolute disaster. It's not that she wasn't talented... she just had way too much competition. She never found that part that was just right for her. Because of her failures... I grew up in a broken home with an alcoholic mother."

"Ginger... I'm so sorry," the Skipper said with all sincerity as he enveloped one of her slender hands into both of his. This gesture sent a warm and comforting sensation to Ginger. She swallowed hard as she willed herself to remain eye contact with him. A strange sensation filled the pit of her stomach and she was dangerously close to letting her guard down. Though she recognized that they seemed to be caught up in some sort of emotional moment, she refused to give in to it. Feelings couldn't always be trusted. Right now, the Skipper was her knight in shining armor... no one looked more appealing, not even the ruggedly handsome Professor or the super wealthy Mr. Howell. To fight what she was feeling, she decided to keep on talking.

"My one solace was always this swing that my father had built in our back yard. When my parents would fight, I would run out there, take that tire as high as it would go, and close my eyes and pretend I could fly away from all the madness. When my parents divorced... my father built a new swing at his new home. I was almost too old for a swing then, but I still loved it."

The Skipper smiled, as he tried to picture this lovely woman in front of him as a little girl. She must have been quite the charmer...much like now, being able to wrap people's hearts around her little finger. She possessed the ability now, as the Skipper was quite aware that he would hang on to any sort of positive reaction out of her that he could get. A hug, a wink, a smile, a dance, a brushing of shoulders... it was all like heaven to him and he ate up every bit of it. His prayer.. using the term very lightly... every night since they had met had been that he might one day be able to win her affections. As of now, they shared only innocent flirtations, while he would stammer, stutter, and wear the cheesiest grin ever on his face. Only two times had he come close to openly admitting his feelings for Ginger. Once shouldn't have really counted, for he had amnesia and hadn't even known who he was. He hadn't even recognized Ginger. At least, not in his mind he hadn't. Going straight into sailor mode, he had flirted with her a bit and then boldly began to neck with her. Ginger had been shocked and immediately put a stop to his advances. Even though his brain hadn't recognized her as Ginger, his heart had stung with pain. He knew that something inside of him had longed to be near her.

The other time was just a few months ago when they had a Miss Castaway contest. Although his opinion had been that Ginger was the obvious choice, he had really nominated her in hopes that she would be flattered. Perhaps she would see just how much he admired her. For truly, he had never seen a woman with such beauty, such grace, such pzazz, such talent, and... such beautiful eyes. He had wanted to throttle Gilligan for choosing an ape over all those beautiful ladies. Ginger had been so insulted that it wouldn't have done much good at the time for him to try and cheer her up.

"Skipper, are you listening?" Ginger said as she tried to get his attention. He cleared his mind of his previous thoughts as he once again focused his gaze on Ginger.

"Of course I am. I apologize. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying that I still wish I had that swing. It was my way of escape for almost anything. I really could forget my problems for a short while. Pretty silly, huh?"

"I don't think it's silly at all."

"Skipper, you are so sweet. Do you know that? I used to think you were nothing but a big meanie and a girl crazy sailor, but now..."

"But now..." he repeated trying to prompt her.

"Now I know that my suspicions have been right all along. Deep down you are a soft hearted teddy bear," she told him with a smile. Sure, what she had said had been a bit corny, but the Skipper considered it one of the highest compliments he had ever received. He smiled back as he gave her a humble and simple "thank you".

"SKIPPER! SKIPPEEER! HELP!" The two of them heard Gilligan screaming from a thicket of coconut trees. The Skipper sighed as he removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. The sigh was followed by an irritated scowl.

"I guess you had better be going," Ginger replied, "thank you for listening to me. I already feel some better."

"I was glad to. I mean that."

Ginger got up from the place that she sat. However, before she left, she leaned down and gently kissed the Skipper on his forehead. Right before she walked away, she tenderly brushed a stray patch of thin, wispy hair from his brow. He shuddered inside as her fingers grazed the top of his receding head. She gave him one longing look before she broke the gaze and walked away silently in the direction of where they made camp.

The Skipper sat there stunned for a moment, before getting up to respond to Gilligan's need for help. He couldn't make any sense out of what had just happened. Was that another one of Ginger's meaningless flirtations... or had that been sincere?