Work Text:
INT. PRESS CONFERENCE ROOM – DAY
The room is packed with reporters and flashing cameras.
The microphones crackle. Hurley, Sayid, Sun, Aaron ( In Juliet's arms), Juliet, and Sawyer take their seats along a long table.
A spokesman introduces them as the “Oceanic Six.”
Karen Decker, polished and professional, steps up to the podium. The Oceanic Six sit behind her, looking stiff under the cameras.
KAREN DECKER
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Here are the facts as we know them.
Oceanic Flight 815 departed Sydney, bound for Los Angeles. On September 22nd, it crashed somewhere in the South Pacific.
Karen points at the map to show the trajectory.
Against impossible odds, six survivors—James Ford, Joanna Miller, Hugo Reyes, Sayid Jarrah, Sun-Hwa Kwon, and baby Aaron—endured 108 days on an uninhabited island.
They were discovered by local fishermen, who brought them ashore to the tiny island of Sumba.
(turning slightly, with a small smile)
Now... I’m sure we’ll all agree—your survival is nothing short of miraculous. And might I add—
Applause erupts. The questions begin immediately, a dozen voices shouting at once.
REPORTER 1
Ms. Miller can you tell us what happened after the crash?
JULIET
(steady, rehearsed, pretending to be drowning victim Joanna)
The plane broke apart. We were in the water… but by some miracle, some of us survived. We made it to an island. It was… uninhabited. We had no way of calling for help.
REPORTER 2
And you lived there… for how long?
SAWYER
A hundred and eight days. Not that anyone’s countin’. (grins, jerks his thumb at Hurley) Well—except maybe him. Fella always managed to sniff out the supplies. Didn’t lose a pound the whole time. Guess the island had a soft spot for big guys.
(nervous chuckle from the crowd, Hurley shoots him a wounded look while the cameras click).
REPORTER 3
Sawyer, you’re saying only six of you survived? What about the other passengers?
SAWYER
(flat, guarded)
They didn’t make it. Current carried ‘em out. Sharks. The ocean doesn’t do mercy. (leans back, exhales). Try more Gilligan’s Island, less Hilton.
The lie hangs heavy. Juliet shifts Aaron in her arms, the baby fussing. She presses a soft kiss to his head.
REPORTER 4
Ms. Miller, you gave birth on the island, correct? You must have been six months pregnant when the plane crashed.
JULIET:
Yes. It was a hard birth—breech, prolonged labor, and blood loss. I delivered him myself, with nothing but the sharpened shell to cut the cord. We both lived. That’s what matters.
Sawyer leans back in his chair, arms crossed, trying to look bored—but there’s the faintest flicker of admiration and pride in his eyes.
SAWYER
I did my part too—kept a warm cloth on her forehead, and kept a steady supply of imaginary peanut butter sandwiches.
The reporters blink, thrown by the odd remark, jotting notes they don't understand while Hurley lets out a snort that he quickly covers with a cough. Sayid rubs his temple. Sun shakes her head in disapproval, realizing Sawyer has, in his own sideways fashion, slipped into Charlie’s role in Aaron’s life. And Juliet shoots Sawyer a side-eye—equal parts warning and amusement.
REPORTER 5
(Glances at the group and focuses on Sawyer)
There are rumors that other survivors stayed behind. Is that true?
The table stiffens. Hurley looks down, fidgeting. Sayid’s eyes flicker toward Juliet and Sawyer.
SAWYER
(snarls)
Rumors. Nothin’ but. Don’t print ‘em.
REPORTER 6
But Dr. Jack Shephard was also on your flight. His name isn’t on the manifest of the dead. What happened to him?
The silence is louder than the flashbulbs. Juliet and Sawyer exchange a quick glance. She’s calm, he’s bristling.
JULIET
Jack… didn’t make it.
REPORTER 6
Didn’t make it when? On the island? During rescue?
SAWYER
The Doc did everything he could to aid the wounded. In the end, he burned out.
(beat, looking dead at the reporter)
Truth is—Jack burned brighter than the rest of us. Problem with candles like that? They don’t last.
JULIET: (misty-eyed)
Jack was a true hero. He willingly gave up his seat on the rescue boat. He saved us.
REPORTER 7
The fact is Dr. Jack Shephard—by all accounts a brilliant surgeon with a stellar reputation—vanished somewhere between the crash and your rescue. Are you asking us to believe that a man like that simply burned out? Is it possible he's one of the survivors rumored to have been left behind?
Sawyer and Juliet exchange a look.
SAWYER AND JULIET IN UNISON:
No, he didn't make it.
REPORTER 8
What about the fugitive, Kate Austen? Her name’s also missing.
The room goes still.
SAWYER
Kate didn’t make it either. She— (he stops himself, grinding his teeth) She’s just... gone.
Murmurs ripple.
The questions keep coming, but the weight of the lies sits heavier than the flashbulbs. Hurley stares at the floor, shaken, mumbling the numbers under his breath. Sawyer’s jaw eyes are distant, jaw set, as if he’s still seeing the deck of that chopper, Jack’s body disappearing into the waves, Kate’s face left behind in the jungle.
Sayid’s eyes are dark, already preparing to do damage control.
REPORTER 8
But there are reports—
SAWYER
(leaning into the mic, voice like steel)
Reports don’t know a damn thing about what we lived through.
There’s an edge of threat, enough that the room goes quiet for a beat.
Juliet places a steadying hand on his arm. He relaxes a fraction, then sits back, eyes hard and far away.
SAWYER: (snarls at first, then shifts gears with a salesman’s grin into full con-man mode)
Kate? Ever the adventurer. Survived longer than most. But one night she wandered out into the jungle, chasing God-knows-what. The next morning, a boar showed up at camp carrying her pack. Left us a keepsake—a wee toy airplane she was fond of.
REPORTER 9
(to Juliet)
How did you keep the baby alive all that time?
JULIET
(soft, practiced smile)
I did what any mother would do—whatever it took.
Juliet looked at Sawyer.
JULIET
We fished, gathered mangoes, and rationed carefully. Survival depended on every one of us contributing. Live together or die alone.
REPORTER 10
(turns abruptly to Sayid)
Charlie Pace—his disappearance has the music world in chaos. Drive Shaft sales have quadrupled, millions of fans are mourning, and everyone wants answers. What happened to him?
Sayid stills. His hands fold tightly together.
Before he can answer—
HURLEY
(blurts out, voice cracking)
Charlie’s dead because of the numbers! He—he knew they were cursed, man, he tried to warn me, but nobody ever listens—
The room goes silent, confused murmurs buzzing. Reporters exchange baffled looks. Cameras flash harder.
REPORTER 10
(excited, leaning forward)
Numbers? What numbers? What do you mean by cursed?
Hurley starts to ramble, panic in his eyes.
HURLEY
The numbers—4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42—they’re everywhere, okay? I won the lottery with them, but it was a curse, and then the crash, and then Charlie...—
SAYID
(interjects sharply, controlled)
What Mr. Reyes means is… Charlie Pace gave his life so that we might survive. He drowned bravely. That is all you need to know.
Hurley shuts his mouth, breathing hard, realizing too late what he’s said. He sinks back in his chair, avoiding every eye in the room.
....
LATER
INT. HOTEL SUITE – NIGHT
The Oceanic Six are crammed into a plush suite, curtains drawn, lights dim. Empty water bottles and untouched room service trays litter the table. The air in the room was like a rubber hand pulled tight, ready to snap at any moment.
Hurley paces near the window, wringing his hands. Sawyer slams the door behind him.
SAWYER
(pacing, furious)
You outta your damn mind, big guy? Standin’ up there talkin’ about some voodoo lotto curse like we’re all on a game show?
HURLEY
(defensive, shaky)
I didn’t mean to, okay? They asked about Charlie, and he died because of those stupid numbers! Somebody’s gotta know the truth.
SAYID
(sharp, cold)
No, Hugo. Nobody has to know. What you said only invites questions we cannot afford to answer.
HURLEY
But it’s real! The numbers—they’re bad luck, man. I used them in the lottery, and everything went wrong. Plane crash, Charlie, Jack—
SAWYER
(pacing, furious)
You're out of you're mind, big guy? Half those reporters are already writin’ “Oceanic Six eaten by aliens.” You just handed ‘em dessert.
(steps in close, voice low and mean)
And Jack? He jumped off that chopper ‘cause he chose to and not ‘cause of some mumbo-jumbo numbers on a lotto ticket.
JULIET
(calm, measured, though weary)
Hurley… I know you believe the numbers mean something. But telling the press only makes us look unstable. They’ll start digging. And if they dig—
She trails off, letting the implication hang heavy.
SUN
(quiet but firm)
We swore to tell one story. Together. If we break from it, everything falls apart.
Hurley stops pacing, looking at each of them in turn. His eyes are wet.
HURLEY
You don’t get it. Those numbers—they’re everywhere. They were on the hatch, on the radio tower… even back home, before the crash. It’s not just bad luck. It’s like the universe is stuck on repeat, punishing me. Punishing us.
The room goes still.
SAWYER
Universe out to get you? Son, the universe doesn’t even know your zip code. You drew a bad hand, that’s all. Don’t make it scripture.
SAYID
(cutting in, clipped)
Still, his fear is real. And if he loses control again in public… We’ll all pay the price.
JULIET
(soft, to Hurley)
Then we keep it here between us. You don’t have to carry it alone, but you can’t tell anyone else. Not if you want us to survive this.
Hurley nods slowly, but his lips tremble.
HURLEY
(low, almost whispering)
You’ll see. The numbers don’t stop. They follow you. They ruin everything.
A silence lingers. No one knows what to say. Sawyer finally grabs a beer bottle from the minibar, muttering.
SAWYER
Hell, if cursed numbers are our biggest problem, maybe we’re doin’ okay.
But the look on Hurley’s face says he doesn’t believe that for a second. Neither do the others.
A silence lingers—until the lamps flicker. The TV snaps to static, digital clock blinking 12:00 before blacking out.
Total darkness.
HURLEY (exhales, almost a whisper)
Told you.