Secret Best Friends
Summary: Set in series 3, during the episode "Left Behind". Before Charlie gives the game away, Hurley suggests Sawyer makes amends in one more way - a camping trip with guys! Oh how fun for Sawyer…
"Uh-uh, Por- Hugo. There's no way in hell I am doin' that."
"What's the big deal? It's just for one night. And you could do with earning extra points at this stage, dude. Sure, you've won over Claire and possibly Desmond but you still face banishment dude."
Sawyer let out an exasperated growl, fed up of seeing Hurley pop up just as he was beginning to relax. He was taking this whole "karmic retribution" thing too far and, to be honest, he was wondering if he was just being taken for a ride. Then he figured maybe not, seeing how Hurley couldn't pull a con off if it was attached to a cordon of rope carrying the label 'pull me'.
"But it's a whole night of you and Chucky," he pointed out.
"No nicknames, remember?" Hurley accused, pointing a large finger in his direction. "I won ping pong, ergo you're not allowed to use anymore nicknames."
"Chucky is a name I'm allowed to use," Sawyer replied dismissively. "Ain't a real nickname o' mine anyway. Everyone knows Chucky is a nickname for Charlie anyways. I should be allowed to keep that one, at least."
"Whatever." Hurley rolled his eyes. "Why are you against the idea of having a camp out with guys anyway?"
"Because it's you and Chucky," Sawyer emphasised. "It's like campin' with the Chuckle brothers. That wasn' a nickname by the way," he added quickly. "Jus' an analogy. Couldn' you have roped Jin in, somehow? He at least is decent company."
"I asked but he wants to stay with Sun," Hurley replied. "It's strange but I swear she's pissed at you or something, 'cause every time I mentioned your name she seemed to…I dunno…tense up."
Years of conning and lying had come in handy, as Sawyer had perfected the art of pulling poker faces. He felt guilty for roping Sun into the long con (no pun intended) but it hadn't been personal anyway. Besides, why wasn't she more pissed at Charlie who, if he remembered correctly, was the one who'd dragged her off in the first place?
"How exactly is spendin' a night with you and Chucky gonna make me look good, hm? If anythin' it'll make me look worse if I'm hangin' round a talkin' pig and a flea."
"Well, you need to show you can associate with others," Hurley explained, ignoring the jibe at his expense. "You hang out with the big people, you know Jack, Kate, Sayid etc. and now you just need to hang out with the, er, third class people. You know the people who don't go on those crazy ass expeditions into the jungle all the time. You don't get much more third class than me and Charlie."
"That sounds like a stupid idea," Sawyer snorted. "What's the poin'? 'Sides...I don't hang out with nobody. I don' need friends to get along, thank you very much."
"Just trying to help, dude," Hurley replied easily. "But if you want to insult me, go ahead. It'll be you that ends up further down the beach on your own. Good luck trying to catch a fish on your own..."
"Alright, alright!" Sawyer snapped. "I really don' know why I bother with this baloney. I'd love to come campin', Hugo."
"Good," Hurley beamed. "Meet us at the tree line in, like, ten minutes. I know a great little spot where..." He fell silent, pained by the words he'd almost said. He'd almost said where Libby and I were going to have our first date.
"You ok?" Sawyer asked, momentarily concerned for his friend.
"Yeah," Hurley replied heavily. "Just had a moment. Anyway...come on, let's get moving. Get water and food and stuff."
As he turned to walk away, Sawyer whistled to catch his attention. Hurley turned around, wondering what more the conman had to say.
"Yo, boss," he called. "Want me to bring some alcohol to liven up the party? Or can you and Charlie boy not hold your liquor?"
The taunting look in his eyes, the smug grin on his face and the ever so slight tilt of his eyebrows made Hurley even more determined to reform his friend, convinced there was a good guy - and leader - in there somewhere. The crux of the problem was that Sawyer seemed reluctant to be viewed as the good guy, therefore was unlikely to step up as leader any time soon.
He sighed, frustrated by his mission. Then again there had been much more complicated things which had been accomplished, such as persuading Charlie that life was as much about victories as it was about defeats. He smiled fondly, remembering the sheer joy they'd both felt at fighting fate and how their bond had tightened as friends.
Truthfully? He couldn't imagine getting through each day without Charlie, because both of them were like brothers now and, in a strange sort of way, he wanted to forge that sort of connection to Sawyer.
"Bring the alcohol," he decided, grinning at him. "I'm guessing this is one of the only times you'll ever raid your own stash, so we better make the most of it."
Sawyer chuckled and walked off, but not before giving Hurley a mock salute. As he walked off he mused over that thought that if Hurley wanted a good leader, he wasn't exactly a bad candidate for one himself. He was cheerful, ridiculously optimistic, popular and was definitely someone you could always count on. If that didn't spell out 'leader', what did?
"Are you mental, Hurley? Have you actually flipped your lid?"
"Why is everyone so negative about the idea of a campout?" Hurley complained. "God, would it kill people to be co-operative for once?"
Charlie grinned, amused by his friend's minor tantrum. He was in the midst of his evening shave, having forgotten to do it earlier on account of looking after Aaron whilst Claire went to talk to Sun. He stroked what was left of his stubble and then turned his attention on Hurley, who'd just asked him to embark on a campout with the camp's most socially awkward being.
"We don't run in the same circles as that guy," he pointed out. "He's normally either flirting with Kate..."
"Who isn't here..." Hurley interjected.
"...Or he's busy being part of the A-Team," Charlie finished. "Face it, man...it's not going to happen. I mean it's a nice thought trying to get him to be part of the 'community' but he's not exactly a social guy is he? He'd never go for it."
"He's already said yes," Hurley explained. "All we need is a yes from you, dude."
Charlie folded his arms and mock glared at his friend. "So, everyone knew about this little campout but me?"
"Pretty much, dude."
"Why is it just us three?" Charlie demanded. "Why isn't Jin coming with us...or Desmond?"
"Considering what you told me the other day, I'm pretty sure you'd rather stay away from good ol' Desmundo at the moment," Hurley returned with a grin. "And Jin's under the thumb of Sun at the moment, which is weird considering it was like only a month ago that it was the opposite way around..."
"You're going off on a tangent, Hurley," Charlie reminded him, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. "If it really means that much to you, I'll do it."
"Great! That's the spirit!" Hurley grinned. "This'll be a blast, I know."
"I fail to see how," Charlie joked. "It's you, me and a jackass; define the fun in that! Although that sounds like an epic film title..."
"Who's the one going off on a tangent now?" Hurley teased. "Come on, dude. Victory or death, right?"
"Right," Charlie echoed. "I'm only doing this for you, ok?"
After watching Hurley nod and then walk away, Charlie flung the towel he'd been using over his shoulder and strolled towards Claire's tent. She was holding Aaron up in the air and blowing raspberries against his stomach. He smiled; it was a lovely, homely scene against the backdrop of something darker and more mysterious.
He slowed down his footsteps, wanting to savour the scene before him. Aaron was, in so many ways, an unlucky child; he'd been born on an island, snatched from his mother twice, been mysteriously ill and lived in a makeshift wooden crib with very little prospects like the rest of the survivors. In other ways, however, he was an extremely lucky child; he had a mother who loved him unconditionally, he was everyone's own little miracle as he'd survived an island birth and he was doted upon by a man who may not have been his father but felt the same bond towards him.
"Look who it is!" Claire whispered to Aaron, the moment she spotted Charlie. "It's Charlie! Mummy's very, very, very best friend."
"Is that all I am?" Charlie demanded teasingly, leaning in to say hello to Aaron.
"You know you're more than that," Claire murmured, raising herself slightly to kiss Charlie's lips softly. "But try explaining to Aaron about islands and plane crashes and meeting handsome strangers who sweep you off your feet. I think he's a little young for that, right?"
"He knows there's more," Charlie declared, sweeping Aaron into his own arms. "He's a clever little bugger and he knows I've been around too much to just be a 'best friend'."
Claire grinned. "You're in a good mood," she observed. "What gives?"
"Hurley's invited me on a campout with him and Sawyer," Charlie said, with the air of someone who is resigned to their fate. "I've got to meet 'em by the tree line in ten minutes."
"Since when did Sawyer become your playmate?" Claire teased. "Hurley, I can understand but Sawyer? Did he steal something of yours so that now he owes you a favour?"
"I don't need favours to make friends, Claire," he replied, miffed. "I'm extremely lovable and cute and that does it every time."
"That you are," she whispered, staring deep into his eyes. "Where are you going?"
"I dunno," Charlie said with a frown. "Hurley didn't specify where it was we would be camping. I'll be fine, though."
Aaron squirmed inside his arms and clutched his finger, as if trying to confirm that Charlie was the one who was holding him. He giggled in delight when Charlie pulled a face and tickled his beautiful, bare, baby belly. Claire watched this display with unconcealed joy.
"I'll be back in the morning," he informed her. "You don't need to worry, Claire. I'll be fine."
"How can I not worry when that's all I do?" she fretted. "I worry about you more than you know, Charlie. But I trust Hurley. And Sawyer," she conceded after a pause. "I trust them both to bring you home safe." She inhaled deeply. "And I trust you to be safe."
"Wow," Charlie whispered. "It's been a while since I've heard you say you trust me."
She smiled wanly and held out her arms as he gently delivered Aaron back to her. He smiled and tucked a stray bit of hair out of her eyes before leaning in and kissing the top of her head.
"See you later," he called cheerily, as he stood up and started to gather his stuff together.
She waved him off and left her hand in mid-air, wondering why she felt this strong tug of concern whenever he disappeared beyond the horizon. When she eventually lowered her hand, it hovered around the spot where he'd kissed her and suddenly she felt as giddy as a schoolgirl.
She missed him already, even before he'd disappeared out of sight.
Ten minutes quickly passed and soon all three of the campers met up. Sawyer, predictably, was the last one to arrive. He made a big show of his arrival, clearly stating that he didn't want to be here. Hurley and Charlie exchanged glances, both silently thinking what have we let ourselves in for?
"Howdy boys," Sawyer greeted them, smirking like he had some big secret. "It's a nice night for campin' ain't it?"
"Come on," Hurley said cheerfully. "Let's do some male bonding."
"Male bonding?" Sawyer repeated. "Now hold on there, Jet- Hugo. This ain' gonna be some sort of weird, no-strings-attached-threesome kind of thing? 'Cause I don' remember signin' up for that."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "It's just a campout, Sawyer," he reminded him. "Just because your mind has been muddied by the shocking amount of pornography you have, doesn't mean all our minds are."
Sawyer's smirk slipped off his face. Outdone by a gnome, he thought bitterly, I really have hit rock bottom.
They walked along the beach for a few minutes, before Hurley surprised them by cutting into the jungle. Watching Sawyer getting beaten by brambles and branches was amusing for Charlie - up until the point where they turned on him too. They bit and tore into his cheeks and dodging them seemed to make things worse.
Eventually they came to a clearing of thin, pale barked trees and Hurley, being the confident man he was, pushed aside the branches with ease and led them through to a quite astonishing sight.
A quiet stretch of beach lay before them, presided over by the glorious late afternoon sun. The ocean glittered and sparkled as the sun's rays danced on the surface and the whole scene seemed like a view destined to be slapped onto a postcard. Though the island concealed terrible dangers within it, a few treasures occasionally slipped through the net and, it was safe to say, this was one of them.
"Sayid said this was where he and Shannon used to come on their dates," Hurley explained, somewhat dreamily.
He liked this place but there was always that reminder hanging in the air, a reminder of what could've been. If he'd only remembered the blankets...so much could've changed.
Charlie and Sawyer exchanged a look, both of them slightly uncomfortable with that information. It was like stirring up ghosts. Considering Shannon had never been a prominent member of camp anyway, it made them feel guilty that they were invading what was essentially her and Sayid's territory.
"Well?" Sawyer said. "What now?"
"Now?" Hurley grinned as he pulled Sawyer's rucksack towards him. "Now we drink!"
"You brought booze?" Charlie gasped. He grinned as if it was a helicopter Hurley had pulled out of the bag as opposed to bottles of alcoholic liquids.
"You betcha," Sawyer replied smugly. "Now who's sitting at the kiddie table?"
Hurley passed around the small bottles of liquor. Sawyer's smirk re-emerged; he couldn't wait to see how these two acted whilst under the influence. He could hold his own liquor but, more impressively, he could also hold other people's. Back in the real world, he usually began drinking before the other mindless binge drinkers wandered in and was usually the last to leave, and he could still manage to walk back to his motel - barely.
"How 'bout we play a little game to pass the time?" Sawyer suggested with a devilish grin. "You boys up for it? A little 'I never'?"
"I never what?" Hurley enquired.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. If it wasn't so damn sad, it would've been hilarious. Though he was a positive, strong figure in camp, Hurley wasn't the brightest crayon in the crayon box. He was naive, but in a strangely endearing way.
"The game's called 'I never'," he explained. "You say something you never did, an' if you've done it you drink an' if you haven't done it, you don' drink."
"How does that work?" Charlie inquired.
"Learn by example," Sawyer replied. "I never been in love. Now if either of you have been in love, you drink up."
Charlie drank up right away, confident that the way he felt about Claire could be defined as 'love'. Hurley just looked confused...as he generally did.
"I'm not sure if I have," he said. "What do you do if you're not sure? Do you take half a sip or something?"
Sawyer chuckled. "Love ain't somethin' you forget easily, Deep-dish," he said. "So you can safely assume you ain't been in love."
"Nicknames!" Hurley shouted.
"I agreed to a stupid campout with you, so the leas' you can give me is some leeway on the whole 'no nickname' front."
Hurley fell silent, annoyed by the way Sawyer could charm or talk his way out of any situation. Then again, he did have a point and he didn't want to push him away when he'd made so much progress already.
"I never voted," Charlie chipped in.
Sawyer drank up and, again, it took Hurley a few minutes to work out that he had voted so rushed to drink. He slopped some down his shirt, cursed, and then started to laugh at his own misfortune. Charlie laughed too and Sawyer just rolled his eyes...again.
About half an hour later, the sun rolled across the sky and was beginning the slow process of sinking into the horizon. The sky simultaneously became a dusty red in colour, and the first of the stars stuttered their way into view.
Along with these changes, the 'I Nevers' were becoming filthier and filthier, much to Hurley's dismay, and more and more alcohol was being consumed leading to the occasional slurred word, the odd stumble of movement and the rare blink of someone who was trying to focus his eyes on something but, due to the amount of liquor consumed, was finding it difficult.
"I never had a threesome," Sawyer called. He winked at Hurley, knowing full well the poor guy would never have had such luck and, with another callous wink, drank from his own bottle.
What surprised him was that Charlie was drinking too. He'd never imagined the scallywag could be capable of such deeds and the shock was so great that he dropped the bottle he was holding and his eyes widened with surprise.
"You?" he demanded. "Seriously? Are you actually bein' serious?"
"No word of a lie, mate," Charlie slurred. "I've had about shix in my lifetime."
"Shix? Shix?" Hurley repeated. "You are wasted, dude. Maybe you should slow down with the drinking?"
"It's your go!" Charlie sung.
"Oh...is it?" Hurley sounded out of it, like he was stoned or just intoxicated. He paused as he tried to think of a good 'I never' to do. "I, er, never had sex in a public place."
Coming from him that sentence sounded so out of context that even if he'd confessed to a murder, it would've made more sense to hear. Sawyer, naturally, didn't drink because he always kept it in the bedroom. He'd never found it appealing to roll around like animals in a public place, though he'd spent some very amusing afternoons startling couples from their passionate lovemaking.
Charlie winked at both of them and proceeded to finish off his bottle, before tossing it away and roaring with laughter at their shell shocked expression.
"When? Where?" was what Sawyer wanted to know.
"Dude..." was all Hurley could muster. "That's nasty."
"My mate used to own this bus," Charlie explained. "This big, red bus. We used to tour in it and one night we picked up these girl groupies. Liam and the other band members went off to get us something to eat from the local chippie. Next thing you know, this girl... she's coming on to me and clothes are flying off."
"I don' think that really counts," Sawyer said dubiously. "S'gotta be in a really public place. Like in a lift or somethin'."
"It's a bus," Charlie said patiently, as if that fact explained everything.
"I wish we had a bus," Hurley said mournfully.
"Why?" Sawyer and Charlie demanded.
"Dunno," Hurley replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Be a cool thing to have, don't you think?"
"Ooh yes," Sawyer responded sarcastically. "There have been moments on this island where I've thought 'I wish I had a bus to help me out of this scrape!'."
"I miss that bus," Charlie said mournfully.
"Can we not talk about buses anymore?" Sawyer said loudly. "You sad pair of pillows!"
It was probably down to the alcohol, and maybe something else, but if he squinted really, really hard he could actually see Hurley and Charlie as pillows. And that, he told himself firmly, is how you know your limits. Seeing your friends as pillows is NOT a sign that you're sober enough to drive home.
He was surprised how much he was enjoying the company of Hurley and Charlie. They weren't exactly what you'd call the coolest people in camp but he knew he had no right to judge people. After all he knew first impressions were not reliable things to go on, as tonight had proved. For the first time in a long time, he felt almost happy and content with his life; although that warm fuzzy feeling inside his chest might just have been the liquor he'd consumed.
Still, it was nice to pretend for one night he'd had friends. Kate had always stuck by him, to a degree, but sometimes a woman's company wasn't enough. There was still a part of him inside which wanted to make friends and not be the most hated person around. During the day, he couldn't care less about these feelings but the nights...the nights were the worst.
Listen to me, he thought to himself. I sound like such a sentimental ass. What is wrong with me? I've jus' had a good night is all. No big deal. Tomorrow you will wake up as the same jerk you've always been. That's the way it's supposed to stay.
"I'm bored with 'I never'," Hurley complained. "We should have a sing-song, or something."
"Yeah!" Charlie sat up, his eyes rolling around like snooker balls. "That sounds fun! What shall we sing? I'll start!"
He promptly cleared his throat, sang a scratchy, high pitched version of a song no one recognised and then slumped into a giggling, mass heap of clothing. Hurley started laughing then, but his was a huge guffaw of a laugh, the kind you expect giants from fairytales or Hagrid from the Harry Potter saga to have.
"Wha' the hell was tha'?" Sawyer demanded. "Seriously? Are you both a bunch of lightweights or wha'?"
"Says the guy who's been swaying from side to side for the last ten minutes, even though he's sitting down," Hurley retorted.
Charlie suddenly bolted up and rubbed the back of his neck. Wondering what the hell he'd collapsed on, he pulled his guitar from his belongings and then gave Sawyer the biggest grin he'd ever seen.
"Now it's a party!" he declared. "I shwear to drunk I'm not God, so I can shtill play the guitar. Any requeshts?"
Ignoring the urge to laugh at Charlie's absurd sentence, Sawyer requested 'Wonderwall' only because it was the only song he'd constantly heard which hadn't become annoying by the third time. Hurley, now in a heap by the feeble fire he'd built, seconded the motion, though his voice was muffled due to the fact he was now facing the ground.
"I can't 'member the wordsh," Charlie complained, after playing the beginning chords over and over. "I know there's a wonderwall in it shomewhere..."
"We can figure this out," Sawyer mused, now revelling in his drunken stupor. "It can' be tha' hard to work out."
"We should make our own vershion," Charlie said excitedly.
"Let's do it!" Sawyer crowed, slapping his hand against Charlie's in excitement.
"Dudes..." Hurley called. "A little help?"
With merry laughter, Charlie and Sawyer stumbled to their feet and, with enormous effort, they helped roll Hurley over so that he was no longer in danger of suffocation. Then, instead of going back to their spots, they collapsed beside him and stared dumbly up at the moon, which had risen into view above the ocean.
It was breathtaking. The sea now appeared to be pearl white and the mist which surrounded it made the whole scene look hauntingly beautiful. The waves started to lap up towards them but they were enough up the beach to avoid getting soaked. Hurley's leg, however, was stretched out like a log and when the waves surrounded it, he gave a sharp yell of alarm and moved swiftly out of the way.
In short, it was the fastest they'd ever seen him move.
After a few more drinks, they had moved on from butchering legendary songs and had arrived at attempting drunken conversation.
"This is...this nice," Sawyer slurred, leaning on his back and gazing at the stars. "I never woulda thought..." He paused. "I've forgotten wha' I wanted to say. Bitch of a son!"
Hurley found that particularly hilarious for some reason and found he needed to sit up to appreciate the faux pas. He clutched his stomach as wave upon wave of laughter hit him. Charlie was near enough dead at this point; his body was crumpled in a heap and the occasional snore escaped his mouth.
"S'jus' you an' me, Barbar," Sawyer said. "S'looks like Chucky's the firs' man down."
He looked at Hurley who was teetering on the edge of collapsing. His eyes rolled backwards and he succumbed to the alcohol, falling backwards and hitting the sand so hard that Charlie's body lifted up into the air by an inch.
"S'alrigh'," Sawyer reassured himself. "Shoulda known these boys couldn' take their liquor."
After struggling to get that sentence out, he gazed at the moon for a moment and wondered why it seemed to be moving. He let out a wild laugh, stared at his near enough dead companions, blinked twice and then slumped forwards, barely missing the fire which was just hot sparks at this point.
Charlie was the first to stir in the morning. He sat up and immediately winced. His head was pounding like a thousand drummers were drumming inside his head, and he felt strangely cold - more so than usual at this time of morning.
He glanced at Sawyer and Hurley, who were both still fast asleep and snoring as loud as a helicopter, and saw the array of empty bottles lying on the sand. From what little he could remember of the night, it had been a definite booze fest. He was surprised at how long he'd lasted, because when he'd started taking heroin alcohol had lost all appeal to him.
Hurley was next to stir. When he moved, as harsh as it may have sounded, the whole earth seemed to rumble. Glassy eyed and still out of it, he stared at Charlie and then clutched his head.
"Dude..." he moaned. "What...what happened?" "Alcohol," Charlie replied grimly, "that's what happened. You look bloody awful, mate."
"Thanks," Hurley replied grumpily. "So do you."
With the help of the other, they managed to stumble to their feet. It was only just morning they deduced, based on the fact that the sun hadn't quite risen yet and everywhere seemed silent. No life seemed to have woken up yet, barring themselves.
"D'you think he enjoyed himself?" Charlie asked, staring down at Sawyer's lifeless body.
"Most definitely," Hurley agreed. "Though he won't admit it. He'll go back to camp, bitch and moan about how unpleasant the night was, and then go back to what he does best."
"Making our lives miserable?"
"Yeah."
"Speak of the devil," Charlie said, nodding towards Sawyer.
The Southerner was stirring - at last. He blinked rapidly, groaned and clutched his head, before sitting up slowly and staring around him in mild surprise. For a moment it seemed he believed the empty bottles around him had been consumed by himself, and himself alone.
A loud, amused cough made him turn around and then he groaned as he saw two smug faces grinning at him.
"Are you two still livin'?" he groaned.
"Afraid so," Charlie replied. "So...we can't take our liquor huh? Judging by the state of you, neither can you."
"Shut it, small fry," Sawyer snapped, rising to his feet. "Jus' 'cause I passed out, don't mean I can't handle my liquor."
He stumbled around for a moment, briefly wondering how Hurley and Charlie had managed to duplicate themselves in mere seconds before realising he was suffering the after effects of his night of drinking. He winced, realising every little sound sounded like the effects of a rock concert inside his own brain.
"Need a hand?" Charlie asked, smirking even amidst the pain of his own hangover.
"Shut it!" Sawyer snarled, wanting to hit him but feeling too drained to even lift up his hands. "You were the firs' to pass out as I 'member it, so wipe that grin off your face."
"True as that may be," Charlie replied, "I'm not the one who looks like they've been dragged through a hedge backwards all night long. Look at the state of your hair!"
Sawyer immediately stumbled over to the ocean to see what Charlie was talking about. His hair resembled a punk rock hairdo, only wilder and more like a prickly bush. When had that been done?
"To answer your silent question," Charlie replied, his smirk widening marginally. "I think me and Hurley did that somewhere between the 'I Nevers' and the random game of 'Running into the ocean and then running back out' you invented." "Me?" Sawyer sounded incredulous. "As if I'd ever inven' a game that stupid."
"You did," Hurley replied earnestly, grinning as he remembered. "As I recall you liked it so much, you ended up doing it all by yourself for most of the night."
"As if," Sawyer snorted, splashing his face with cold water. It felt wonderfully refreshing, though perhaps a little too refreshing as certain things came rushing back. "I remember running. I ran a lot." He groaned and then flung his head in his hands.
"It was a good night," Hurley said simply.
Charlie and Sawyer stared at him, struck by the simplicity and honesty of those words. It was true - they'd all survived a night together and, better yet, had come out of it as friends…almost. They'd all managed to forget, for one night, that they were stuck on an island which was filled with mysteries and hidden dangers. Last night…they had lived purely for the moment.
"I'm goin' back to camp," Sawyer announced, somehow managing to flatten his hair so it looked almost as good as new. "See you boys later…"
"Un-friggin'-believable," Hurley muttered, once he was out of earshot. "He didn't say 'thank you' or anything. What a total douche!"
"It's Sawyer," Charlie pointed out. "What did you expect? A bunch of flowers and a little thank you note? Being grateful isn't his style. We had a good night; just leave it at that, Hurley. Plus," he raised his eyebrows wickedly, "we've at least cleared his stash of alcohol. That, my friend, is what they call a silver lining."
Hurley grinned and patted his friend on the shoulder, realising he was right. Then, supporting each other in every sense of the word, they hobbled back to camp.
Later on, when everything was more or less settled, Hurley decided to pay Charlie a visit to see how he was doing, only he received an unlikely visitor at the mouth of his tent. He peeped and saw Sawyer there, looking socially awkward as usual.
"Hey," Sawyer said softly.
"Er…hey," Hurley replied, startled to see him here. "What's up, dude?"
"I was jus' lookin' through some stuff and I found this," Sawyer said, passing him something.
Hurley took it warily and then stared at it. It was the present he'd wrapped up for his mother, which he'd thought long and hard about before purchasing. It was a little glass figurine of a couple dancing, their arms wrapped around each other locked in a tender embrace. He'd chosen it because it was his way of telling her that he was fine with her reunion with his father, that he'd let all his past frustration and bitterness go. He was surprised it had survived the crash in all honesty.
"When did you…take this?" he asked slowly.
"I dunno," Sawyer said with a shrug. "Musta been durin' the first few days we crashed here. I realised it was yours when I saw the note attached to it. I'm sorry I didn't give it back sooner; it's jus' I forgot it were there."
For Hurley, hearing Sawyer saying 'sorry' was like a miracle. A big smile came across his face because in his own mind Sawyer saying sorry was his subtle way of saying he cared. It was a sincere apology as well, with no trace of falsity within his voice.
"I know you never wanted to be a leader," he said slowly. "I'm sorry I tried to make you become one. But just for the record, dude, you would of made a hell of a good leader." Sawyer grinned at him and, amazingly, seemed to look almost shy at the compliment. It was probably a natural reaction for him, seeing how no one ever really paid him compliments, only insults.
"Jus' for the record," he replied, smiling a genuine smile for a change. "You woulda made a hell of a good leader too, Hugo."
"Hey, look at that! You actually said my name," Hurley rejoiced. "God, I wish Charlie had been here to see this." "How is the monkey, anyway?" Sawyer changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable with showing anymore of his good side.
"He's fine," Hurley replied, observing Sawyer carefully. "Claire's looking after him at the moment. I don't think she's pleased with the state we brought him home in but I think she was just worried about him."
"D'ya think I should surprise one more person and go over and thank him?" Sawyer asked, gazing over at Claire's tent where Charlie was currently asleep. "After all, it was a good nigh', an' I don' want anyone thinking I'm ungrateful."
"Nah," Hurley said, surprising them both. "I'll save you what little dignity you have left and let you go back to doing what you do best. You wouldn't be Sawyer if you were all…nice and things."
"Thanks, Hugo," Sawyer grinned. He exhaled deeply. "Can I jus' say one thing before we go?"
"Sure, dude. What is it?"
"That shirt makes you look fat."