Hurley's packing up a backpack when Libby runs up, wanting to know what happened with Sawyer: "You beat him up?" Hurley does not want to talk about it, especially when he's stuffing a huge tub of Dharma Initiative Peanut Butter into his backpack. Libby smiles at him, somewhat sadly, but again with genuine compassion. Hurley notices her looking at him. "That's a lot of peanut butter," she says gently. Hurley says he's going to need a lot of protein where he's going. And where's that? "Back to the caves. No one lives there anymore, so I won't bother anybody. I'm going to live alone, be one of those guys. You know, the crazy guys. With the big beard and no clothes, who's naked and throws doody at people." I'm sorry, did he just say "doody"? Libby pleads with him not to go, but he says she can't help him, that no one can.
Hurley's walking through the jungle. From behind him, he hears the sound of fabric ripping, and the bottom of the backpack tears open, dropping the peanut butter on a rock; it breaks, spreading its creamy goodness all over the ground. Hurley grabs a big leaf, and uses it to try to pick up as much of the peanut butter as he can -- and then shoves it in his mouth, looking miserable the whole time. And just like when he was eating the "fish crackers," he senses someone watching him. Again, it's Dave, standing right in front of him. "You're not here!" yells Hurley, which earned him a coconut in the gut last time, so he might want to be careful. Dave just stands there smirking. "You're in the hospital. You can't be here," says Hurley, a lot less confidently. "Sorry, dude. I'm here," says Dave, who doesn't look sorry at all.
Back in Dr. Brooks's office, Hurley has apparently FINALLY done his homework. He's reading from his piece of paper, which is folded and creased so badly that I bet Dr. Brooks deducts marks. "I like that I have a good relationship with my mom. I like making my Grandpa Tito laugh. I like chicken," he says. Brooks points out that the last one isn't about him. "I like that I like chicken?" offers Hurley. Heh. Brooks asks him how it felt to write that, if it was difficult. Hurley says he might have messed up some spelling, but Brooks is getting at the fact that Hurley didn't say anything about the way he looks. "Are you comfortable with your appearance?" he asks. Well, maybe not after hearing your tone of voice, doctor. Hurley shruggingly says that he can't really do anything about it, and Brooks tilts his head in an "oh, really?" no-bullshit way. Very, very haltingly, Hurley says, "If I, uh...if I...wasn't so fat...they never would have...died." Brooks watches him carefully. Hurley looks like he's just about to burst into tears; Brooks leans forward and gently tells him that there were twenty-three people on a deck built to hold eight. Sure it wasn't fifteen, sixteen, or forty-two people? "And it would have collapsed whether you went out there or not," says Brooks. "Yeah, but I did walk out there. And it did collapse. I killed them," says an anguished Hurley. Brooks reminds Hurley that after the accident, he was almost catatonic: "You stopped talking, you stopped going out, you stopped sleeping...but you never stopped eating. Because that's how you punish yourself." And also stay alive, though, right? Hurley's having trouble with this, and he tells Brooks that Dave's right about him, that Brooks is nothing but a quack. This doesn't bother Brooks a whole lot; he leans back in his chair. "Dave doesn't want you to lose weight, does he?" Hurley angrily says that Dave cares about him, that Dave is his friend.