The next day, Mary was found sitting on the beach, staring out at the ocean with a blank look on her face. Jack had looked after her for a few minutes and then, deciding that she probably wasn't going to move anytime soon, went off. Over night, he had begun to wonder if Mary had a mental illness; he wondered about this possibility only because he had never seen any person, especially a child, look at anything with such a blank and resigned look on her face.

The child's pupils were dilated, so she obviously saw her surroundings and everyone in it. But Jack thought that if a part of the island were to explode in some sort of fiery mess, that Mary would just go on staring at the water with that odd look on her face. She didn't speak when spoken to; she didn't even turn her head to see who was talking. Her legs were drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them, and her head rested on her knees. Her doll was somewhere on her lap, although Jack didn't know where.

Then there was the matter of those two little marks on Mary's forehead. They looked like scars- old ones at that. They seemed to give Mary a sorrowful quality, a quality that border-lined ominous. Mary, apparently, had no memory of how she got the scars, and didn't respond when Jack asked a second time. Jack had the feeling that Mary remembered and knew more than she was letting on. But what in the world could have happened that would make her lie and conceal her past?

Had Mary been hurt? Perhaps abused by someone? Is that why she wouldn't speak about her past, and shying away when someone so much as hinted at it? Mary still hadn't spoken, much less looked at anyone (With, of course, the exception of Locke) since she was brought into the camp the night before. In the morning, she had trailed wordlessly behind Jack down to the beach, where she planted herself softly into the sand and assuming her position as though she had done it routinely for days.

Jack took another glance at the beach, making sure that there was nothing that would be a possible threat to Mary. She was far enough from the forest where jack didn't have to worry about whatever the world was in there attacking her. And she was far enough away from the water where it wouldn't be a threat if it rose a little. But there was still the matter of Sawyer. Jack thought that Sawyer was untrustworthy, and after having heard about the polar bear incident and watching the Marshall incident himself, he really couldn't say that he trusted Sawyer around a small child.

But Sawyer was no where to be seen, so Jack relaxed a little. The last thing he needed was another incident with the other man. Taking one last look at Mary, Jack disappeared into the forest and back to the caves.

Sayid and Hurley were working on some permanent shelters on the beach, when the subject of Mary arose. Sayid assumed that Hurley had thought of the topic because Mary was sitting about ten yards away from them, occasionally glancing to see what they were doing.

"That kid kinda creeps me out," Hurley said, stopping to look at Mary. Sayid raised an eyebrow at him. Mary seemed like a shy, quiet little girl who wasn't very comfortable around adults. In fact, it wasn't just the adults that she didn't talk with. Walt had tried to talk to her, but she hadn't spoken a word. Mary had simply nodded, shook her head, or shrugged. Some children were like that, and some weren't. It didn't mean she was creepy.

"Why do you say that?" He asked, also stopping his work. Hurley shook his head.

"She's just… creepy. She doesn't talk, she just sits and stares at the ocean all day." Sayid shrugged.

"So? Kate stares at the ocean every day and you don't think she's creepy, do you?" Hurley glanced down. In all truth, Kate did creep him out. Being a fugitive and all. But he wasn't about to let Sayid on to that.

"No," Hurley lied.

"Well there you go then." Sayid said. There was a pause.

"Then there are those things on her head," Hurley pressed on. Sayid sighed, knowing that Hurley wasn't going to drop this any time soon. So, he played along.

"What 'things' on her forehead?" He asked.

"Those little circles. She had one above both of her eyes, and they're both the exact same size. And to make it just a bit more gross, they are GRAY scars. Who has GRAY scars?" Hurley asked.

"Some people. Besides, they could just be birth marks." Sayid pointed out.

"I dunno dude. The kid looks like she could sprout horns any minute." Sayid chuckled.
"What- are you calling her Satan's daughter or something?" He asked, the amusement in his voice incredibly clear.

"No, no… just… uh-oh…" Hurley muttered. "Dragon alert at three o'clock." Sayid turned around- and had to bite his lip sharply to keep from laughing. Sawyer was sulking as he tromped along the beach, moving in a path that would eventually cross into Sayid and Hurley's. The reason Sayid had to bite his lip was because of Sawyer's appearance. He was soaking wet, his clothes clinging to his skin, which was equally as drenched.

He saw Hurley and Sayid's looks as he passed by them. If looks could kill, they both would have been burnt to a crisp. "Not. A word. From either of you." He warned. Sayid looked down, and Hurley somehow managed to keep his face straight.

"Hey dude… did you fall into a lake, or was there a tidal wave in the middle of the jungle today?" Sayid couldn't hold it in any longer, and apparently, neither could Hurley. They both burst out laughing. Sawyer glared at them.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. That's so funny I forgot to laugh." He sneered. "The day I tell you how I got like this is the day the Doc stops being Superman." Sayid and Hurley didn't hear him. They were laughing far too hard. None of them saw it, but from a few yards away, Mary stared at them with a strange look on her face. It looked like she was trying to smile, but long since forgotten how to.