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Fandom: Gilligan's Island.
Summary: Gilligan collects rocks.
You can find all sorts of things on a beach, mainly rocks. Gilligan loved to pick up rocks - shiny rocks, round rocks, rocks that, when you squinted at them, looked like things (his favorite in that respect was one that bore a resemblance to a hen laying the state of California). He'd bring them back to the hut he shared with the Professor (although he often thought of him as Roy, now), who would tell him what sort of rock it was, and it would end up on a windowsill or behind a door. Months later the Professor would be surprised that Gilligan still remembered exactly what he'd been told about any particular rock. There was no one perfect rock - many rocks were perfect, in his estimation.
The one he'd found this morning was perfect in every way; shaped like a small egg, milky white with a shimmer of color hidden inside, it's smooth surface seemed made to rub one's fingers over. When he first showed it to the Professor he said, "Quartz."
"Really? It feels different that the other quartz I have."
"What's different about it?"
"I'm not sure." He put it in his pocket and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully over it for the rest of the day.
Much later, in the evening, he took it out again. "It's gotten prettier," he commented, and handed it to Roy for him to see. The colors had gained strength, and blazed in the warm glow of the oil lamp.
"It's lovely! Will," (Gilligan loved it when the Professor called him Will - he was the only person who did, and then only in private.) "I was wrong. I think what you've got here is an opal. You could get a pretty penny for that ... if we were ever rescued."
Gilligan smiled and set it on the windowsill.