Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sherwood Schwartz. This story is based on Angel On The Island from season one, so there will be similarities, but hopefully it's different enough. The message of support and friendship is basically the whole message of Gilligan's Island and that's mainly what I wanted to emphasize. T x

Simona

by Teobi

"Thanks for letting me come with you, Professor," said Gilligan cheerily as the two men made their way through the jungle. The sun was climbing in the sky to the East, dusting the treetops with golden light, sending slim fingers through the foliage to warm their faces.

"That's quite all right, Gilligan," the Professor replied, although he wasn't really feeling the sentiment. He had wanted to work on his own this morning. There were times when the presence of six other people in close proximity fought against his desire to be completely alone. But that morning Gilligan had been annoying the Skipper so much that the academic had thought it wise to separate the two sailors before any more harm was done to the pleasant tranquility of the day. Sometimes even loners had to do what was right for the good of the group.

They pushed their way through the jungle as Gilligan chattered like a bird, telling one Skinny Mulligan anecdote after another until his voice became a sort of lulling background noise. Not altogether unpleasant, the Professor decided. Gilligan wasn't one of those people who needed constant confirmation that you were listening to them. He didn't stop every minute or so to wait for a response, or drop questions into his conversation that required a reply. He just ran along like a clockwork toy, a little monkey playing the cymbals, telling his funny stories happily to anyone or anything that listened.

After a while the Professor found the medicinal plants he was looking for, and they stopped to pick a few. Gilligan went silent for a moment, and that's when they heard it.

"Sssh!" said the Professor abruptly, putting his hand up in case Gilligan started chattering again. "Gilligan, did you hear that?"

Gilligan cocked his head to one side, the way an animal would do. They held their breath until the strange sound came again. A low sobbing sound from somewhere ahead of them and to the left.

"It's Ginger!" the Professor whispered. "And she's crying!"

Gilligan's face fell. "What should we do?"

"We should find out what's wrong," the Professor replied firmly. "She may have fallen and hurt herself!"

With that thought in mind, the two men hurried along the path and pushed through the bushes until they came to the small clearing where Ginger sat on a boulder, her fur wrap pulled tight around her shoulders. She was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and her cheeks were pink from crying.

The Professor rushed to her side, crouching down next to the boulder. "Ginger, what's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

Ginger turned her face away and looked down at the ground. "Nothing's wrong," she stated flatly.

"I don't believe you," the Professor replied. "We heard you crying. People don't cry for no reason."

Ginger wiped her eyes and tightened her fist around the handkerchief. "I can't believe I came all the way out here to be alone," she said irritably. "This is supposed to be a deserted island!"

The Professor remembered his own thoughts about Gilligan and blushed slightly.

"There's just no escaping from people," Ginger finished, then blew her nose delicately.

"I'm sorry, Ginger. If there's really nothing wrong, then we'll leave you in peace."

The Professor got to his feet and was about to usher Gilligan out of the clearing when Ginger put her hand on his arm.

"I'm the one who should apologize," she said. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I don't like people to see me upset, that's all. I don't mind if you stay."

"If you're certain...?"

"I'm certain," Ginger smiled, and her reddened eyes immediately brightened.

Gilligan and the Professor found places to sit, and settled themselves close to Ginger.

"You don't have to tell us what's wrong," said the Professor, "but sometimes a problem shared is a problem halved." He glanced sideways at Gilligan. "Although in some cases, multiplied."

Gilligan grinned back, unaware that the Professor had just teased him. Ginger looked at the happy expression on the First Mate's face and she laughed, her first laugh of the day.

"I don't mind if you know," she said, shifting her weight on the boulder to get comfortable, smoothing her gown over her knees. "I was listening to the Hollywood Report yesterday evening. They said that the latest production of 'My Heart Lies Bleeding' had finally been cast, and an actress called Rita Hepburn was playing the character of Simona." Ginger's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the Professor. He could tell, even before Ginger told him, that she had suffered a crippling blow.

Ginger paused, but this time it was not for dramatic effect. It was so that she could compose her thoughts and rally her defences so that the telling of her story didn't bring her to tears in front of her friends.

"I've always wanted to play Simona," she continued, twisting the handkerchief in both hands. "Always. She's such a wonderful character. She's strong, she's resilient, but she's also fragile and frightened. She's everything- and she's a real test of an actress's skill. It's a beautiful play and will make a wonderful movie, and I didn't even get the chance to audition. I know I would have nailed it. I just know. It's the part I was born to play, and now I'll never get the chance."

The Professor exchanged a look of concern with Gilligan. For once Gilligan was sitting quietly, his face devoid of all expression.

"I don't want to say anything bad about Rita, but I know I would have done a better job. This would have been the role that marked me as a serious actress. No more 'Rain Dancers of Rango Rango' or B Movies where I'm chased by a monster in my underclothes. 'My Heart Lies Bleeding' would have made them sit up and take notice of me at last." Ginger thumped her chest with her open hand. "I have that passion within me. I have that hunger. I'm not just an aspiring starlet. I'm Ginger Grant, and I can act, dammit!"

By this time Gilligan's mouth had fallen open and the Professor's eyebrows had worked their way up to the start of his hairline. Both men were rendered momentarily speechless at the fire in Ginger's eyes, the barely contained fury and despair that she felt at the loss of the role she knew she was born to play. Neither of them were actors, they didn't understand the desire to get up on stage and perform in front of hundreds of strangers, but they did know what it felt like to suffer crushing disappointment. The Professor knew that great strides were being made in science, technology and medicine without him, and Gilligan knew that there were fancier boats helmed by weekend sailors going out on four hour tours that were better than anything he and the Skipper could ever offer, despite their years of experience.

"It's Cleopatra all over again," the Professor said quietly.

Ginger sniffed daintily, toying with the ends of her stole. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Cleopatra was the role she was made for, and now it's this Simona, and soon there will be another one and before long she'll be crying again. But you don't understand. Time is ticking, there's only a small window of opportunity when you're an actress. Once you get over a certain age there are only a handful of roles you can play. No more leading ladies - you're a wicked stepmother or a crazy old spinster whom no man will ever love. I don't want to be old before my time. I want to shine, to dazzle, to love and be loved, to captivate." She rose from the boulder and flung her arms outwards. "I want to conquer!"

Gilligan's eyes bulged out of his head and he fell backwards off his tree stump with perfect comic timing. The Professor stared at the boy with his feet up in the air, and then at Ginger, breathing heavily, her bosom rising and falling, her arms outstretched while beams of light created a halo around her fiery tresses and the fluffed up fur of her stole. He got to his feet and gave a round of applause.

"And so you shall, Ginger," he laughed, feeling a burst of the same passion that she was surely feeling. "So you shall!"

oOoOoOo

Once again, the stage was set. The lights were dimmed- or rather, the tiki torches glowed and flickered in the descending twilight. Out in the 'auditorium', six castaways sat in anticipation of the performance that was to come. Ginger had told them she needed no others on stage with her. She briefed them all on the plot, told them of Simona's heartache and grief over the loss of her entire family, who had been murdered by the man who claimed he loved her. Simona had lost everything- love, trust, her faith in humanity. And yet there was a fire within her that refused to be quelled. Simona was one of life's survivors, although she didn't know it yet.

The tiki torches appeared to grow brighter as the night got darker. The castaways whispered among themselves, their nerves tightening. They had no idea what they were about to witness. They wanted Ginger to impress them, and yet they unconsciously prepared themselves for disappointment. Ginger had been so adamant that this role was for her that they were afraid she wouldn't be able to meet her own expectations, let alone theirs. The Howells sat with their heads almost touching. Mary Ann instinctively reached for Gilligan's hand and squeezed his knuckles. The Skipper and the Professor cleared their throats and fidgeted in the front row, anxious for the show to commence. Time seemed to stand still as they waited.

When Ginger finally entered from stage right, she was so quiet and unobtrusive that they almost didn't notice she was there. Gilligan had been about to tell Mary Ann that she was hurting his fingers when her widening eyes and focused gaze made him look towards the stage. The Howells stopped whispering. The Skipper and Professor both sat up straight in their chairs. A tiki torch sparked as if on cue, sending a flash of light across Ginger's face. Her expression was stark and lifeless, her eyes glowed eerily empty. She looked drained, as though her spirit had been crushed. She moved slowly, with leaden limbs, until she was centre stage, and then she crumpled like a rag doll to the floor. Mrs. Howell gasped. Mary Ann's hand flew to her mouth and she crunched Gilligan's knuckles with the other, bringing tears to his eyes. No one said a word as they stared at Ginger- no one spoke and no one moved, lest they miss the smallest nuance of their friend's performance.

Ginger rose up onto her hands, her hair a burning curtain falling in front of her face. She began to speak softly, her voice as tremulous as a bird. She spoke of love and longing and betrayal; but as her monologue progressed she became stronger, more strident, anger and rage building until each castaway in the audience found themselves holding their breath, leaning back in their seats as if Ginger were personally accusing each and every one of them of murdering her family and taking everything away from her. She made them feel her sense of outrage and injustice, her loneliness, the desire for revenge that battled with her need to escape from all that was bad. She railed against the system, she scorned a society that didn't care, she pounded the air with her fists. She berated and begged and screamed with the pain of a lost and tortured soul. She prowled the stage like a caged panther, her green eyes blazing. The Professor watched in stunned silence as Ginger grew before his eyes, transforming from a meek, beaten woman into a towering pillar of strength fueled by a fury that nothing and no one would ever destroy again. Gilligan looked at Mary Ann and saw tears blooming in her eyes, each tear a perfect shining pearl clinging to her lashes. The Skipper's heart swelled for this woman standing tall before him- swelled and broke as he realized how vast was the distance that separated them, how unobtainable she really was. And yet- she gave him the sense that while there was still breath left in his body, he should never give up hope.

After thirty electrified minutes, Ginger's performance ended as quietly as it had begun, Simona's passion spent. She bent her head, took a step back and the curtain of hair fell down over her face. There was a stunned silence in the auditorium as the castaways reoriented themselves and regained their equilibrium, a silence that seemed to stretch out as Ginger stood motionless on the stage. And then suddenly, wildly, they leapt to their feet and burst into a round of rapturous applause that went on and on until the palms of their hands throbbed, punctuated by loud whistling from the Skipper and Gilligan, and cheers from everyone else.

"Brava!" shouted the Professor. "Brava!" He clapped and clapped, unable to tear his eyes away from Ginger. He felt a sense of immense pride, and also love; pure, unadulterated love for this woman who was unlike any other he had ever met. A woman who inspired him in ways he never knew, ways he had yet to discover. A woman who showed him each and every day that it was okay to feel; to live your life in technicolor instead of monochrome.

Ginger lifted her face, swept her hair back and smiled at them all. She retreated gracefully, always facing them, until she reached the rear of the stage, and then she slipped away through the door like a phantom, leaving nothing but charged air behind.

When she came out from behind the stage she was Ginger again. She returned to her friends and stood among them as they congratulated her on a stellar performance. They hugged and kissed her and told her she had brought the house down. Gilligan told her he would never, ever watch 'My Heart Lies Bleeding' if she wasn't in it, because no one would ever, ever be as good as she was. Ginger felt tears sliding down her face as she hugged Gilligan tightly, then embraced Mary Ann, who was crying like a little girl.

"Oh, Ginger, you were absolutely wonderful!"

"Three cheers for Ginger!" shouted the Skipper. "Hip hip, hooray!"

"Hip hip hooray!" the others chorused. "Hip hip hooray!"

Bathed in the warmth of her friends' love, Ginger found herself speechless, unable to string a coherent sentence together. But later on, at her special 'Opening Night' dinner, which had been suggested by Mrs. Howell- "after all, one must do things properly!", Ginger held up her hands for silence, then got to her feet and cleared her throat delicately.

"I would like to say a few words," she said, her voice low and breathy. She looked around the table, at the bright, gleaming faces and the delicious food they had prepared; the flowers they had presented her with and the table decorations.

"As you all know," she continued, "the role of Simona, whom I played tonight, was very important to me. 'My Heart Lies Bleeding' has been a favorite story of mine ever since I read the book when I was fifteen. Of course, no one has ever murdered my entire family," she broke off to laugh awkwardly, "but I always felt I could portray the wide range of emotions that the writers intended for Simona to have." Ginger stopped speaking long enough to lift a cup of water to her lips and soothe her vocal chords with the cooling liquid. "That's why I was dismayed beyond words when I heard last night that Rita Hepburn had been cast in the role. And while I'm sure she's fully capable, I'm not ashamed to say that I think I would have done a better job." She looked at each of their faces, trying to gauge their reactions to her speech, smiling bashfully at Mrs. Howell who nodded encouragingly. "Hopefully I demonstrated that with my performance tonight," she concluded, then slowly sat down as a strange, self-conscious flush spread over her cheeks.

The Professor raised his cup. Touched by the fact that Ginger was blushing, there was an even more soothing tone to his voice than usual. "You certainly did, my dear. You gave the performance of a lifetime, and you treated us to an unforgettable evening. I think I can speak for us all when I say we were truly floored by the strength of your ability."

Low murmurs of agreement resounded around the table.

"You're the best, Ginger," said Gilligan shyly. "I'll always be your fan, even if you try to kiss me."

Ginger laughed and blew him a kiss and he pulled back with a comical grimace.

"You were fabulous, Ginger," said Mary Ann. "I know it sounds as if I'm repeating myself, but you were!"

"Thank you, sweetheart," said Ginger, tenderly. "Would you believe me if I told you that all the while I was on that stage, the one person I really wanted to impress was you?"

Mary Ann's face lit up. "Really?"

Ginger smiled. "Really. You're like a sister to me, Mary Ann. Your approval means so much, whether you realise it or not. I've come to depend on you for your down to earth approach to life. Even if I go ahead and do exactly the opposite of what you've taught me!"

Mary Ann laughed happily. "It would be very dull around here if you and I were the same. I'm glad of our differences; you teach me a lot, too."

"A toast!" proclaimed the Skipper. "A toast to our very own angel on the island. Long may she reign!"

Cups raised into the air and joyous cheers rang out through the trees, down to the shore and out across the ocean waves. And even if no one heard them but the seven castaways of Gilligan's Island, Ginger knew that those castaways loved her more than any theatre full of strangers ever would, no matter how loud the applause, or how many encores they called for.

Her friends would always love her, and she would always be a star in their eyes.

Simona would live to fight another day.

The End