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Then we get the credits, over some slow-motion shots of Jack staggering around and passengers running aimlessly this way and that. There's a nice shot of Jack looking into the cabin, where a dead person's hand artfully hangs into frame like a boom mike on a cable-access show. The young guy brings Jack a handful of pens, because he didn't know which one would work best, and Jack seems to recall that he was kind of a wad to the guy, as he graciously accepts them rather than saying something else bitchy.
Jack stumbles off to an especially fetching bit of beach to tend to his own wounds, but finds he can't reach the big gash on his back. Luckily, at that moment, a woman who looks quite a bit like Kate Beckinsale walks out of the jungle, rubbing her wrist and looking dazed. Jack asks her to sew him up, and when she's dubious, notes that it's cool; he's a doctor. I like thinking of this as an all-purpose justification for pretty much anything you might ask someone to do. "Could you please place this Butterball turkey on your head? I'm a doctor, I'd do it myself, but my hands aren't clean." (A friend of mine, in his first year of medical school, recorded an album of obscene songs titled Don't Worry, Baby, I'm Almost A Doctor.) After some give and take, she agrees to help. Jack hands her the bottle of vodka; she looks as if she'd enjoy drinking it, but instead pours it on her hands per Jack's instructions. She looks at the sewing kit he scrounged from a dead person's luggage and says, "Any color preference?" Rather than asking her to weave him a rainbow friendship bracelet in his back skin, he says that black is fine.
As dark begins to fall, we see that the castaways have started two bonfires on the beach: the Cool People bonfire and the Loser Bonfire. A scruffy blond dude lights a cigarette. The pregnant woman stands in profile, looking down at her prosthesis. She is one skinny pregnant lady. Hurley stacks up airline dinners: beef on the left, fish on the right. One of the guys who helped Jack pull Leg Injury out from under the wreckage sits on the beach -- you know, ruminatin'. We meet Sayid and Charlie; Sayid is from the Middle East, Charlie from the Shire.
Meanwhile, Fake Kate Beckinsale is stitching up Jack's back. She asks him why he doesn't seem afraid and he goes off on this long speech about fear that I won't even relate because its writerly details and the circumstances of its telling and the one glistening tear Jack cries while telling it are so ludicrous as to beggar belief, so I'll just point out that the whole point of it is that if you're scared you should count to five.