LOCKE: Why wouldn't I light the fuse?

HURLEY: Maybe because I was running towards you, waving my arms, yelling "don't do that?"

LOCKE: Well, you've got a point there.

HURLEY: Really? Wow, usually you're, like, Mr. Haha. There you go. Life's not so bad, right? I mean, sure the Others are coming to, like, eat us all -- and every once in a while someone blows up all over you, but you do get to sleep in every morning.

JACK: Uh-huh. And the numbers?

HURLEY: What?

JACK: "The numbers are bad" -- that's what you were yelling right when I tackled you.

HURLEY: Yeah, that's kind of a long story.

JACK: I've got time.

HURLEY: You'll think I'm crazy.

JACK: Try me.

HURLEY: Awhile ago I was in this kind of psych ward, and there was this guy, Leonard -- and all the time I knew him all he ever said were these numbers -- 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 -- over and over and over again. And they kind of got stuck in my head. So, when I got out -- well, actually a couple of months after I got out -- I was buying a frozen burrito and I thought, hey, I should play the lottery. And I guess those numbers were still stuck in my head so I played them. And I won 114 million dollars. That's when it started happening -- my grandpa died, my house caught on fire, the chicken joint that I worked at got hit by a meteor -- well, actually meteorite. Okay, so tonight I see the same freaking numbers on the hatch thing -- just written on the side -- and that's why I tried to stop it -- because that thing is cursed, man.

JACK: You were in a psych ward?

HURLEY: I'm not crazy

JACK: You have a fracture-dislocation of your thoracic lumbar spine with multiple crushed vertebrae -- your back is broken. Your spleen is ruptured and bleeding into your abdomen and that has to be stopped. I'm going to perfrom surgery and repair as much damage as possible. But even the most optimistic result puts the likelihood of retaining any feeling or mobility anywhere below the waist extremely unlikely.

SARAH: Oh.

CHRISTIAN SHEPARD: Dr. Shepard, may I have a word, please.

JACK: So, what did I do wrong?

CHRISTIAN SHEPARD: You did something wrong?

JACK:You're frowning.

CHRISTIAN SHEPARD: My face is always this way.

JACK: Dad, hey, c'mon, let's hear it.

CHRISTIAN SHEPARD: You might want to try handing out some hope every once in awhile. Even if there's a 99 percent possibility that they're utterly, hopelessly screwed, folks are much more inclined to hear that 1 percent chance that things are going to be okay.

JACK: Her spine's crushed. I tell her that everything's going to be okay -- that's false hope, dad.

CHRISTIAN SHEPARD: Maybe. Maybe, but it's still hope.

JACK: I'm going to fix you.

JACK: Small world.

DESMOND: You a doctor then? So what's your excuse?

JACK: Excuse?

DESMOND: To run like the devil's chasing you. My excuse - I'm training.

JACK: Training for what?

DESMOND: A race around the world.

SARAH: You're yanking my chain, right?

JACK: No.

SARAH: Then how come I can wiggle my toes?