Actually, before Alabama kills me, I don't think Close Range by Annie Proulx (the collection that includes Brokeback Mountain (of Brokeback Mountain fame)) was ever banned anywhere. It was just called a banned books bin because the books contained "sensational" or "controversial" material. Meaning, the book store piled all the gay and interracial books in one bin at the front, called it the "Banned Books Bin", and called that good. Please don't kill me Alabama. . . Moving on!

"Is he ready to go?"

"Yeah, he's got fresh everything, a night of sleep, and Locke's still at the hatch for some reason. . ."

"Cool, cool."

"Are we really doing this?"

It was two days later, and Hurley was at Claire's tent, picking up everything Aaron needed for an hour or two with Charlie. He'd been disappointed yesterday when Charlie had run off into the wild, but he was back now, and looked like he needed to be cheered up badly. Claire acted like she didn't care about Charlie's feelings, but Libby had told Hurley about what she'd seen in her yesterday.

"Hey Hurley!" Libby had yelled.

"Yeah?" Hurley replied, walking across the fire back to his hut.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

Hurley shuffled over to her tent faster, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Shoot."

"What were you talking to Claire about?" Her eyes, innocently looking at his, made it impossible to lie.

"Uh, I'm setting up visitations for Charlie to see Aaron," he admitted, looking at her eyes. He'd grown accustomed to them in a way, but also knew he'd never know the real depth of them.

"Oh. . ."

"Why?"

"Hon–Hurley. . . be careful. With what you're doing," she'd said, looking absently at Claire, cooing to Aaron, telling him that Daddy wasn't around today. "She still. . ."

Hurley waited a moment for her to continue. After a while, he grew impatient. "Still what?"

"She still wants to be with him," Libby had said, changing the tone of every conversation that Hurley had with Claire onward.

And now, he remembered her asking, Can I see him? Later on? and knew, Libby was right. "Yeah, we're doing this." Dude, why are we talking like we're about to kill the President?

"I dunno, Hurley. I guess it just seems that important," Claire replied. It was a moment or two before Hurley realized he'd spoken aloud. "To all of us," she added, and Hurley again knew, she meant Charlie.

"Aaron'll be back in one piece, kay?" he said lightly, trying not to make this seem too big.

A tear escaped Claire's eye as she said, "Tell Charlie. . . tell Charlie if everything. . . that if everything goes alright. . . if everything. . . tell him he's on the right track. Okay?" She finished, her voice choked with tears as she wiped them off of her face. She looked at Hurley, who stood dumbstruck. "Okay?"

"Anything you want," Hurley said, conspicuously devoid of accent. "So," he continued, picking Aaron up and taking the bag with him, "Aaron'll be here before Locke gets back?"

"Preferably," she laughed. "I mean, have you ever had to explain to a man who has seven knifes on him at any given time that you just gave your child over to a junkie that he had to beat up to keep the child you just gave away safe?"

"Uhh, I can safely say no?" he answered, as they burst into warm laughter.

"Have fun, Hurley," she said as a burdened Hurley turned to walk away.

"I always do. . ." Hurley said, mostly to himself. I always do.

"Hey, Charlie!" Hurley walked up to Charlie's new tent out in "the suburbs" as Sawyer called them. Dick. Now don't you go around insulting others, Hugo, his mother chided him in his head. You have to remember that you weren't all that well-respected once. "Yeah, I know, ma. . ."

"Pardon?" Charlie said, sitting up and squinting at Hurley's silhouette. Hurley seemed a bit bigger than usual. Then, Charlie noticed the bulk of stuff Hurley was carrying. Along with–"Aaron! Oh my god, you weren't kidding! I thought you weren't–Oh my lord! I'm unprepared! What do I do?" Charlie stood up to take Aaron, or gesture in a big, dramatic fashion. Hurley wasn't sure of which. "Claire has all the–!"

"Dude! Chill!" Hurley laughed, "I got it all here, man. It's cool." Hurley handed him the bags so he could pile them at his sides, and lastly, handed Aaron over to Charlie. "You good?"

"Ohmygod. . ." Charlie said breathlessly, looking at Aaron again. "I never thought I'd. . ."

"Dude, never is a longer time than an hour allows," Hurley said sagely. "Also, you forget the fact that they gotta cram ads in, too, so we only get about fourty three minutes."

"I thought it was fourty two."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's fourty three. . ."

"In other news, what the fu. . .dge. . . are you on about?" Charlie stared at Hurley as if he'd just started babbling like they were on a tv show.

"Ah, never mind," Hurley said, taking a seat beside Charlie as he stood. "You gunna sit down, man?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Charlie replied, sitting in a practiced fashion without using his hands. "Hello, wee one. We haven't seen each other in a bit. And the last time was kind of a bad time for me, so you might not be that fond of me right now. . ." This was answered by Aaron with a hand to Charlie's face. "Hey, what are you–Oh! That's my nose!"

Hurley laughed at the pair of them, getting on as well as ever, like nothing had happened. Because to Aaron, nothing had happened. His father–Charlie's not his father–was someone completely separate from the guy who'd taken him to the beach, twice. Hurley waited the entire time, patiently, for Charlie to grow tired, for Aaron to grow tired, for the time to expire. In the end, he had to drag Aaron away from Charlie with the promise that he could see him again.

"When!" Charlie yelled at Hurley's retreating bulk.

"Maybe tomorrow? Depends on where Locke is!" Hurley turned back around, and started walking again. He stopped dead in his tracks as he remembered Claire's words. He turned to see Charlie turning a corner, around the forest. "CHARLIE!"

Charlie whipped around, his hair flipping wildly. "Yeah?"

Hurley started running back to where Charlie's new hut was. "Dude! Dude! I forgot something!" He stopped in front of Charlie, gasping and sweating.

"How far can you actually run, mate?" Charlie said concernedly. "I mean, before passing out from exhaustion, that is."

Hurley and Charlie cracked identical grins as Hurley replied, "Dude. Shove it. Anyway, Claire said, that if everything went well, to tell you, oh god. . ." Hurley stopped to take in a deep breath. "She said to say that if everything went well. . ."

"Well? Out with it!"

". . . that you were on the right track," Hurley finished, gasping. "Okay, I'm cool. I'm cool. . ."

"She said that? She told you to say that!" Charlie yelled in surprise.

"Dude! (gasp!) Whathe fu. . ." he paused to look at Aaron again, ". . .dge, did I just say?"

"You mean she–? Thank you! You fat, jovial, hilarious and frigging millionaire! YES!" Charlie ran off down the beach yelling and pumping his fists in the air.

"That guy is frigging nuts," Hurley said to Aaron. "And frankly, you couldn't have a better dad. Not-dad. Step-dad. Whatever. . ." Hurley took up his trek back to his tent again, with lighter spirits and heavier heart pains.

"So, how was it? Is Aaron okay? Does he need to be changed?" Claire yelled at Hurley as soon as he got in range, routinely taking Aaron from his arms, and rewrapping him and placing him in his cradle while asking more and more questions.

Hurley looked from Claire to Libby who was standing next to her. "Did you have to put up with this the entire time?"

"I think 'ex-junkie who's in love with a baby he's taking care of for the first time in ages' is easier than 'worried mother,' sweeHurley," she said.

"Swihurley? What is that, a new island language?" Hurley ribbed, chuckling.

"You shush about my Freudian slips, you," she replied with her eyes comically narrowed.

"Well?" Claire turned on Hurley again after making sure Aaron was completely fine. "How did it go?"

"It went well," he said, shrugging.

"Well? Did you tell him? What I told you to? Cos if you didn't, I'm not going t–"

"Yes, yes, I told him," he blew her off. "Are we good?"

"We're excellent, Hurley," Claire said, grinning. "Now you two go shag like bunnies," she said to Hurley and Libby, shooing them away. When their faces fell, she added, "What? You think everyone doesn't know? Feh, everyone knew Charlie and I'd. . ." She stopped, realizing she was about to tell someone who didn't know that she and Charlie'd.

"Pardonnez moi?" Libby said in a fake french accent. "Did someone–?"

"Oh, get lost, you pair of gossips! Don't think that doesn't include you too, Hurley!" she yelled at his laughing face.

"Yeah, yeah, we're leaving," he said, taking Libby's hand and walking away. Well, no need to be shy anymore. He and Libby walked back to her hut feeling proud of themselves. Well, proud of Hurley, anyway. Hurley had to admit, Hurley was pretty proud of Hurley. Speaking of pride, there was someone who Hurley had to talk to. . .