I do NOT own "Fantasy Island".

OPENING SCENE "RUN, RUN!" Roarke's yell rang through the air until the ringing of the

bell, and his assistant TJ hollering "De Plane!", simultaneously matched

the movement of the magistrate bolting upright in bed, drenched in sweat.

"Mr. Roarke, the plane..." TJ appeared in the doorway when the boss

failed to walk out the front door. TJ was Tattoo's nephew and was, almost,

his spitting double. The only difference was that his hair was brownish-

blonde.

"I'll be there." Mr. Roarke did his best not to snap. TJ never finished his

sentence, but instead shut the bedroom door and headed back outside.

Get it together was the order he gave himself as he got dressed for the day.

Going to the bathroom, he intended to wash up and get out the door - only,

when he looked in the mirror he saw her. Blinking his eyes she was gone.

You promised her, let go. But all the man could do was grab the side of his

head and let out a horrible scream of pain.

The scream was not heard near the docks as TJ paced back and forth

wondering where his boss was. Not once in six months had he been late.

The early-morning bell rang and Roarke would be by his side. If anyone

had pushed time it had been TJ, in spite of his Uncle Tattoo's warnings.

"Darn nightmares, wish I knew what they were about," TJ muttered and

breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Mr. Roarke stepping out of his car and

straightening his tie. "So, who is our guest?"

Before the man could answer his employee, a high-pitched squeal of

delight filled the air. A dark-headed twelve-year-old child ran - more like

bolted- to Roarke and threw her arms around his waist. "Daddy, Daddy! I

just knew you'd send for me."

Mr. Roarke hid the shock waves which hit his system and welcomed his

and Cassie's daughter to the island. But his eyes shot a clear question

towards the woman who stepped off the plane.

"Darling, why don't you go play with the other guests in that field over

there?" Maria pointed her niece in the other direction. "I see children

there." The young gal needed no other words of encouragement. Only when she

was out of earshot did Mr. Roarke bite out any words to his sister-in-law.

"Answer my question." His voice was hard.

"You didn't ask one."

"I shouldn't have to speak it, I know you saw it as I looked over Betty

Mae's shoulder."

"She's your child. I'm tired of taking care of her," Maria hissed. "You

give other people their fantasies and help cure their ills. Well, dear

brother-in-law of mine, fix your own!" Her voice was not loud, but it was

sharp. When Mr. Roarke said nothing she tacked on: "I'm no more happy

with what happened; what little I know, other than you are alive, and my

sister…" Her voice trailed off and then picked back up again. "But the

fact remains that Betty Mae is your responsibility, not mine. Good-bye."

With that she turned and climbed back onto the plane, leaving Mr. Roarke

holding the bags she'd brought and a heart questioning whether he could

handle raising a daughter any better now than when he'd sent her to live

with Cassie's kin.