It wasn't a craphole, Hurley thought. Bad things had happened here but that wasn't the island's fault. It was a long time ago that Shannon had given that address when he was taking a census of the survivors.

Everyone was gone now, most through death. Those last desperate days it had all come down to him and Jack. And Hurley wanted it to be Jack. But Jack was a doctor and a leader and his instinct was to take care of others so he sacrificed himself. Hurley felt sad when he thought of all his friends but the sharp grief had passed. Maybe it had to do with becoming the island's guardian. He hoped it didn't mean he would stop feeling things. He didn't think so. He still felt stuff but it didn't seem to matter as much.

The fish smelled good. He had just started eating when the Man In Black walked across the beach.

"Are you going to share?" he asked.

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day," Hurley quoted. "But teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. Want to learn?"

When MIB glared at him, Hurley laughed. "Just kidding. There's plenty."

As MIB helped himself, Hurley said, "They made a movie about you. Men In Black. Okay, so that's plural but you're kind of plural yourself. I mean, you can be way more than one person."

"If I was off this island I could see that movie."

"I'll tell you about it."

"Please don't. I'm going to find another loophole, you know. And I will kill you."

Hurley rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Lighten up, dude. We're on a beautiful beach at sunset with grilled fish for supper. We're living the dream."

"One man's dream is another man's nightmare."

"The problem is you're a pessimist. You're worse than a pessimist. Your glass isn't half empty, it's broken and the water is spilled. You need to think positive."

"I have nothing to look forward to except escape."

"Aw, c'mon. Desmond is popping in next week. He'll have new pictures of Penny and little Charlie."

"Desmond doesn't like me and the feeling is mutual."

"You started it. Throwing him in that well was cold. You should say you're sorry."

"I do not apologize. It's against my nature."

"We can all change. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery."

"Did you learn that in the mental institution?"

"Sure. Therapy can help."

"If you let me off the island, I'll commit myself for observation."

"I'm not feeling the trust. And you've got a one-track mind. Hey, what did Antarctica say to Australia?" Hurley paused a moment. "No continent is an island!" Hurley laughed at his joke. "Like 'No man is an island' - get it? I just made that up."

"I could tell." MIB was biting his cheek to keep from smiling but Hurley saw it.

"Almost, dude. Can't fool me. You'll laugh next time."

They sat in silence watching the sun drop below the horizon. If he was stuck here for eternity, MIB supposed there were worse companions than this big lug. Jacob, for example, had no sense of humor. At least Hurley – Hugo Reyes, MIB corrected himself, determined to keep his distance – was decent company. A little too cheerful but never mean-spirited and he didn't hold a grudge.

"The scenery has always been good," MIB admitted. "But there's nothing to do. Why don't you stop a passing ship?"

"We've talked about this. You don't play well with others. And you didn't want to make more holes for the golf course. Which would have been awesome. But I have another idea. You could turn into people I'd like to see again. Dead friends."

"You used to talk to dead people without my help."

"Yeah, that kind of went away. So how about it? Dead friends. That you killed or caused to die. You owe me."

MIB sighed. "All right. But not Libby. That would be too creepy even for me."

I'll win him over, Hurley thought with satisfaction. A few more decades, we'll be playing the Island Open.