I've only begun watching Lost in Space. My GOD do I love this show.

I watched "Time Merchant". It was legendary. I needed to write a fluffy little epilogue. I hope I got most of the canon right... I think the dialogue is adequate, if the technology isn't. Not that the show keeps its own technology straight (from what I've seen). The show encourages you to have fun, so that's what I did.

A single candle illuminated the console and a few surrounding feet like a flickering golden bubble adrift in a black sea. The candle had been neglected, Will Robinson saw. A delicate, pale yellow stream of wax drizzled down the side of the console, slithering between control buttons and rhythmically dripping onto the floor. The wick sputtered and crackled, and the flame drew its full height upward the ceiling and then returned to its original unstable position.

The state of the candle and the ensuing mess could not have been of less interest to Doctor Zachary Smith, who was deeply engrossed in the task at hand: eating all of the leftovers from that night's dinner. It was something he doubtless did often, under the cover of night, apart from everyone, growing fat on the labor of the others.

Now he was hunched over a plate of stewed something-or-other with a side of who knows what with cauliflower, and a lovely bar of synthesized, rendered plant protein of indiscriminate nature for dessert. He was eating the side with particular relish (the emotion, not the condiment) because he recalled that Don had been called away from the table toward the end of the meal, and had left all of his vegetables behind. Smith loved eating Don's leftovers in particular. They tasted like vindication.

There was a book on the console, held open by an aluminum glass of milk. Now and again, Smith would glance over at the book, but it was clear the food held more appeal. He had been on the same page for over an hour.

"I knew I'd find you here, Dr. Smith," said Will pleasantly.

He had heard the boy approaching and now turned an eye toward him.

"Indeed, my dear William. You have caught me. I must confess to growing a mite peckish in the dead of night, on occasion. Surely you wouldn't begrudge me these insignificant little leftovers? I do so abhor the wasting of resources."

The candle steadily dripped into an ever-expanding puddle.

"I guess it's okay. Mom might not think so, though."

"Then I suppose we shall have to keep this minor indiscretion between us, so as not to unduly upset the dear lady who works so hard for the sake of us all." Smith paused. "Although something tells me you haven't come all this way just to spy on me."

"No, I just couldn't sleep." Will settled down in the seat opposite Smith's.

"Ah, then what you need, my dear boy, is some warm milk." Smith gestured at his own glass. "Believe me, it is just what the doctor ordered for long, sleepless nights."

"That's a good idea." Will jumped back up again, full of boundless youthful energy. He crossed to the refrigeration unit and peeked inside. An empty pitcher stared him in the face. All the milk was gone.

"Hey, we're out of milk."

"Indeed?" Will could practically hear Smith's innocent blinking and his recollection."Oh, good heavens, you're right! This was the last glass, wasn't it! Oh, if only I had known you were coming, I would have saved it for you!"

"Where did it all go?" Will closed the door. "I could have sworn we had almost a full jug."

"Nighttime bandits, no doubt. Greedy gluttons with no concern for the morrow. I have my suspicions, of course... but I shall be gentleman enough to refrain from naming names."

Will slumped down in the seat.

"Well, never mind. I didn't come here for milk, anyway."

"Indeed?"

There was a long silence, punctuated only by the sound of Smith's chewing.

"Well?" he said at last, mouth still full. "Spit it out, my boy, or be good enough to let me get back to my book."

Will scrunched up his face, leaning over the console.

"Well, Dr. Smith, I was thinking."

Another long silence.

"Is that all?" Smith frowned irritably. "Well, thinking is a natural part of life, dear William, for most people anyway. Surely you should be used to it by now."

"It's just... how come you didn't tell Mom and Don and the others about everything that happened today? You know, Dr. Chronos, going back to the launch... all of that? I kept waiting for you to say something, but you never did."

Smith's eyes narrowed, then widened.

"Why do you think I should have told them?" Would there have been some advantage in it, of which he was unaware?

"I don't know, it just seems like you would."

"And what does that mean?"

Will immediately assumed a relaxed position, shook his head dismissively.

"I don't mean anything by it, Dr. Smith. I just wonder, is all."

A long sigh, and Smith ceremoniously snapped his book closed. The flame danced but wasn't extinguished. The plate remained on Smith's lap as he leaned forward conspiratorially.

"My dear, dear William. Have you, at long last, no head for temporal mechanics?"

Will frowned.

"Sure I do."

"Then you must be aware of the fact that time is a delicate, delicate thread, easily frayed, easily broken if put into the wrong hands!"

Will rocked in the chair. He was aware, alright. Dr. Smith had had just such "wrong hands" earlier that very day. Oh, yes, Will Robinson was well aware of the inherent danger of toying with time.

But now he asked,

"Whose hands?"

Smith shook his head somberly.

"Into whose hands, indeed, would we entrust our very futures? Shall we go spilling the details of our little foray into the stream of time itself to every Tom, Dick, Harry and, er... DON who may overhear? Risk polluting and tainting the flow of time until it is irreparably damaged, corrupted, unrecognizable?" He speared a piece of asparagus with an audible "clack". "No, my dear boy, no, I am afraid that for our own good, we must keep the details of the events between those of us who were present in Dr. Chronos' laboratory. No doubt your father would agree."

Will granted Smith the point, but "tsked".

"Gosh, Dr. Smith, I suppose you're right, but just telling them about it doesn't seem like it would be so bad. Everything that was gonna happen has already happened, hasn't it? And here we are, just fine. it was the past, not the future." He lifted his immense eyes. "I just really don't feel right keeping something this important a secret. It's like I'm going to be walking around lying all the time."

"A small price to pay, my boy! Better to scar the conscience than to destroy us all!"

"Dr. Smith, how could it destroy us all? It was the past. We're fine."

Smith's voice was rising now. If they weren't careful, the others would be roused. "The past, the future, the present! All one and the same to one who has the means to control time! The past could become the future again!"

A creaking sound in the floor, and the two jumped. When Smith spoke again, it was in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Think, William. Yes, our present is Dr. Chronos' future. His laboratory was destroyed... but think, boy, think! If he had had the means to become aware of the contents of his own time tape, in our past, couldn't he easily change his own history, come back again?"

"I suppose he could, sure." An unsavory idea.

"And think, William! Why, if everybody knew, do you really think our beloved ones would be able to resist temptation, as we must, should the day come again where Chronos darkens our doorstep anew?! Would your sisters or your mother or the indomitable Major West, could they, would they be able to find the strength within, to turn down the opportunity to change their own futures?"

"What? Well, sure they would!"

Smith cast an unguarded smile at the boy. Such a pure heart. Such a lovely soul. He could not conceive of skullduggery in another, for he didn't possess the trait in himself.

"I admire your faith, William," Smith said gently, and he genuinely did, "But I am afraid I cannot be so confident. In this case, it seems it falls to us to must protect them from themselves. What they do not know can never hurt them. Oh, would that I could relieve you and your father of the burden as well!"

Will shrugged.

"That's okay, we don't mind."

"Truly?" Smith swallowed dryly. "How very noble of you, to so readily share the suffering. The... pain." He took another bite.

Will shrugged modestly. He stared idly at the dripping candle.

"Well, I'm just sorry we can't tell them. They really ought to know."

"Now, William! Must I repeat myself? Our very fates may rest on our ability to keep quiet!"

"No, Dr. Smith, I just wish they could know what you did, that's all."

Smith abruptly stopped chewing his large floret of cauliflower. His eyes widened, and he cocked his head quizzically.

"What I did?!"

"Sure, what you did. Getting on the ship, going ahead with the launch, even though you didn't have to."

Now Smith choked, descending into a coughing fit. Through hacks, he blurted out, "Didn't have to?! Didn't have to?! Have you any idea what would have become of you all had I not?!"

"Well, of course I do. Dad and I saw the whole thing. You saved our lives. We woulda been goners."

Smith took a long drink of milk, and squeezed out a few indignant watery tears. "Well-put, my boy. Goners. Didn't have to, indeed!"

"You could have stayed," Will said simply, open-faced and wholesomely honest. "I guess I wouldn't have blamed you, really. It was a lot to give up."

Smith rounded on the boy, clutching the armrests of the red-headed child's seat. He drew back as he realized that there was no malice in Will's statement. It was the statement of one as at peace with death as with life. One who understood that there were battles which couldn't be won, and a vast universe which extended far beyond the self.

And Smith leaned back, still coughing.

"I could have stayed, nothing. Hear what you're saying, William. Leaving you all to such a fate. Going about this new life, knowing the true cost? How could I have lived with myself? It would have been unthinkable." His voice had grown raw from coughing, and as he spat the word "Unbearable", it came out as a tortured rasp that instantly froze Will's blood.

"Gosh, Dr. Smith..." he said almost inaudibly. "I don't know what to say."

Smith erupted in another long stream of coughs, and Will immediately leapt up and began clapping the older man on the back.

"Not so hard!" Smith sputtered. The child had grown remarkably strong as he approached puberty, and Smith shrunk away from the blows.

"Gosh! Sorry!" Will stopped. He stood idly by then, watching the door. They were bound to wake someone up, it was only a matter of time.

The fit passed after a fashion, and Smith sighed. Another long drink of milk. The ultimate drink, as it turned out. The empty glass clattered back down on the surface of the console, and Smith groaned.

"Oh, my boy, I feel unwell. Be a good lad, fetch me some more milk at once. Quickly."

"I can't. It's gone, remember?"

"Oh, the pain, the indignity," Smith moaned. "Laid low by a morsel of cauliflower."

"Sorry. But you should chew your food better, that's what Mom always tells me."

"Sound advice, if... untimely."

"I'll get you some water, hang on a minute."

The candle now listed far to the right, standing only a few inches high. It would go out in a few minutes, would melt down into itself. Will watched it for a moment, and then whispered,

"You were wrong, you know."

Smith sipped his water. He immediately went on the defensive.

"Wrong about what, pray tell?"

"When you said we didn't want you here. It's not true." He turned his flickering eyes on the doctor. "It's never been true, Dr. Smith. Not back then, and not right now."

Smith was silent, unblinking. What was this?

"And I want you to know that I'm never going to forget what you did for us. Ever. If you don't want the others to know, then I won't tell them. But I will never forget. And I just want to say thanks."

Smith felt a rush of hot blood flooding through him, slicing through his arteries and setting afire his nerves. Something not unlike a humble blush lit his face. It would have been humiliating were it not so pleasant. All his bravado and self-congratulation evaporated in the face of true appreciation, true affection and real gratitude.

At long last, appreciation for his sacrifices. At long last.

So many speeches he had rehearsed, and now he couldn't remember a one. Now, he was content just to... to be loved. Appreciated.

Loved. Loved, as it turned out, was better.

"Well..." was all he said. His voice was still raspy. He managed a brilliant smile, which Will Robinson eagerly returned.

The candle sputtered one last time and blinked out. The bubble burst, filling the room with inky, still blackness. The doctor and the boy lingered for a long, long time, until one, and then the other, dropped off to sleep.