Epilogue

When Gilligan awoke, he saw the green ceiling of his hut. As he turned his head to the side to look at the familiar surroundings, he could hear his friends' voices outside. Then he realized: he wasn't in his hammock. He sat up and found he was in a bamboo cot.

"Whose is this?" he asked. Just as he did, he felt a throbbing pain in his leg. He gasped when he saw his right leg was wrapped in cloth with wooden slabs lashed to it. Soon, he became aware of the many different bandages all over his person. Gilligan blushed when he saw he was wearing a banana leaf skirt instead of his pale jeans, and soon turned red as an apple when he wondered which of his companions had dressed him in it.

Gilligan nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the Skipper shout, "Hey, everyone! He's awake!" before bursting in through the door, followed by his other companions. They all crowded around him and began bombarding him with questions and sentiments.

"How are you feeling, Gilligan?"

"Dear boy, are you alright?"

"Oh, Gilligan, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"Gilligan, my boy, you almost made me fall off of my wallet when we saw Skipper carrying you!"

"Oh, Gilligan, you're so brave!"

"Gilligan, how is your leg?"

The boy didn't have any time to answer anything before another question came, then another. He didn't feel that he would ever have the chance to talk again until the Professor shouted, "Quiet, all of you! Give Gilligan some air!" Everyone listened and held their tongues, backing up enough to let the Professor walk to Gilligan and check his bandages.

"How is your leg, Gilligan?" the Professor asked.

"It sort of huraouuch!" The Professor quickly removed his hand from Gilligan's leg. "What was that for, Professor?" Gilligan asked, shocked.

"That was to see if the pain medication that I formulated was adequate," the Professor said simply. "Obviously, I need to create a new recipe."

"I'll say!" Gilligan exclaimed, and was rewarded by a chorus of laughter. He shot an odd look about the room, wondering why that was funny. When they stopped, he asked, "Why did you laugh?"

"Because we're happy that you're yourself, little buddy," Skipper explained, putting his hand on Gilligan's shoulder.

"Well, gee, Skipper," Gilligan began, grinning, "that's the first time you said that! Normally you say-"

"Never mind what I say, Gilligan, I don't mean it," Skipper said plainly.

"Gee, thanks Skipper!" The boy grinned.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Mary Ann cried suddenly. "I baked you a coconut cream pie! I'll go get it!"

She began for the door, but was stopped mid-step by Gilligan. "Uh, Mary Ann," he began nervously, "could you please get the radio, too? I-I would like to listen to some music."

"Sure, thing Gilli-"

"Mary Ann, I'll go get the radio," Ginger interrupted, heading out the door.

"I'll go get the pie!" exclaimed the farm girl, quick to follow her companion.

"Well, Mrs. Howell and I will take our leave," Mr. Howell said.

"Why so early, Mr. Howell?" Skipper asked.

"I thought maybe you would like to stay and help keep Gilligan company," Professor added.

"We would, Professor!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, shocked at any other thought that the others might have. "It's just that Thurston wants to make something that will help poor Gilligan."

"Oh, Lovey," Mr. Howell said, stamping his foot on the ground, "you weren't supposed to say anything!"

"But, Thurston," the rich woman protested, "I didn't tell them it was a–"

"Lovey!"

"There, there, Thurston," Mrs. Howell comforted her husband. "Let's go back to our hut and you can make whatever it is you're making."

"Okay," the millionaire whimpered, allowing himself to be led out of the hut by his wife.

After they had left, Gilligan asked warily, "Why do I have all these bandages?"

"You..." the Skipper trailed off, as though he couldn't find a way to tell the boy something.

"You took a bad fall," Professor contributed.

Gilligan's eyes widened in panic. "Oh no! I took a bad fall?! Howbadisit? HowmuchlongerdoIhave? AmIalreadydead? What–"

"Gilligan, you are not going to die!" Skipper shouted. He pointed a warning finger at Gilligan. "I don't want you to ever say that again!"

"It wasn't a serious fall, it just seemed serious," the Professor added.

"Oh." Gilligan sighed in relief. "Where did I fall from?"

"Uh, the cliffs," the Professor said softly, hoping Gilligan didn't hear.

"Oh, so that's why I woke up down there!" Gilligan exclaimed in realization.

Skipper and Professor looked at each other in confusion; normally Gilligan would have started to panic even more! Their attention was soon drawn to the sound of rock 'n' roll music from outside. Ginger opened the door, the transistor radio in her hands.

"You turned it to 'The Mosquitoes!'" Gilligan cried, bopping his head to the music and mouthing every time the group sang "Yeah, yeah, yeah".

"I knew you liked them," Ginger said with a smile. "Mary Ann does, too."

Just then Mary Ann walked into the hut doing the same thing as Gilligan, only she was careful not to drop the coconut cream pie or wooden bed tray in her hands. She gracefully set the tray on Gilligan's lap, placing the pie in the center.

"Gee, this looks swell Mary Ann!" Gilligan cried, grinning and shaking himself with the music. Everyone smiled at the two dancing with the music.

The Howells came in a few moments later, warily staring at Gilligan and Mary Ann.

"Lovey, I don't think anything can cure those two!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, shocked.

"Thurston, don't you worry," Mrs. Howell said with a smile. "These new age wonder drugs can cure anything!

Ignoring his wife's comment, the rich millionaire handed Gilligan the bamboo 'glass' in his hand, fixing the big blue flower sticking out of the top. "Here you go, my boy!"

"Thanks, Mr. Howell." Gilligan stopped dancing to take the cup. "What is it?"

"It's a–"

"We interrupt this program for a special news report," came to voice of the radio announcer.

"Shh, quiet down," the Professor said, holding his hands out.

"I-" When Gilligan saw the look on the Skipper's face, he shrunk back and decided it best not to speak.

"A Russian male arrived in Honolulu late last night clinging to a large piece of wood for dear life. He has been trying to get the Navy to search on a deserted island with the survivors of the Minnow, the charter boat that left Honolulu Harbor three years ago and never returned. Unfortunately, his directions could put the island anywhere between Antarctica and Moscow. He claims to know where the island is and that he can lead ships to it, but the Navy states that there is no island and that it is a trap by Russian militia. The man has been taken in for questioning.

"Now, back to our program of cheery, daytime tunes!"

"Well, we can assume that the man that they are talking about is Agent 222," the Professor said glumly, turning off the small, box shaped radio.

"How many people will it take for them to realize that we really are here?" Skipper asked angrily.

"Oh, well," Gilligan said solemnly, slapping his free hand down on the table, forgetting about the pie. The tray flipped over, sending the coconut cream pie flying toward Skipper, hitting him smack dab in the face. He sighed in exasperation as the pan hit the ground, along with the crust, leaving his face a white mess of cream and coconut.

"GILLIGAN!" he shouted, reaching for his hat, but then he got a better idea. He slowly reached out and grabbed the glass in Gilligan's hand. He brought it to his mouth, as if he were going to drink it, but as quick as a flash, Skipper turned the cup and splashed its contents on Gilligan's face.

Sputtering, Gilligan asked, "W-what was that for?"

"That was for being you, little buddy!"

The End

Well, this was the final chapter! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, and I hope you liked this chapter as much as the others. And thank you for the feedback, as well. I'm glad you all liked this story! I was a little wary when I started, this being my first fic, but thanks to the people who read my story I was able to move on to the next chapter and finish! Really, thank you for reading.

Aingeal