Smith was guided into the large, tank transport and seated onto a lone chair mumbling over and over: "It should have been me." Each time it was said, it sounded more sincere than it was before. Her companion glanced off toward Smith. He looked quite odd under the overhead light within the large transport. He noticed the man's color had become darker. His dark yellow shirt had turned to a white that contrasted against the gray skin and his v-neck shirt was pitch black with the v-collar being lighter. The young woman checked on Smith's hand wrapping it up in gauze. She placed his hand into his lap then joined her companion and Smith cupped his hands together. There were two benches on both sides of the vehicle. The ride to their transport was bumpy. And yet, despite all that Smith remained still. Motionless like he could not be disturbed by the bumps. He did not bounce against the seat.
Her companion looked over and watched him remain still, staring at him in disbelief, then back over in the direction of the doctor. They shared small glances over toward Smith. Roughly a hour passed as the camera showed the large, bulky transport heading toward a large spaceship that had a ramp lowered down to the floor. From behind it, there was a unique storm that had blue lightning striking the ground. The large transport came to a stop in front of the spaceship. Smith was lead out of the ship then up the ramp. He walked slowly compared to her companion who walked quickly and ahead of him. Smith came aboard to the bridge with a dazed, haunted look on his face. A thick fog of grief blinded him from paying attention.
Next Smith knew, he was sitting on a bed being thoroughly repaired. He had a shaky breath, watery eyes, and difficulty keeping his hands from trembling. The doctor walked out of his vision going over toward her companion. He couldn't hear a word that they were saying and he wasn't interested. His eyes felt heavy. It had been a tiring day for Smith. Will's voice calling for him repeated in his mind. He can see Will standing in front of him with part of his head covered in blood. His shirt torn in half while his outfit was covered in dirt. Pieces of diamonds sticking out from his skin. A large diamond sticking out of his head that irked Smith. A delicate process would need to be done to remove that diamond, let alone comforting Will while in operation and great care would be needed for his fingers to make sure he didn't cut himself.
Was it worth going into the cave?
No, it wasn't.
"Why didn't you stop and come back for me?" Will asked. "Why didn't you stop at all for me?"
Smith's eyes were on the questioning, once bright young boy.
"Why didn't you pick me up instead of taking my hand and leading me away?" Will asked.
Smith's once lively eyes were full of nothing as he looked on.
"You could have saved me, Doctor Smith," Will replied. "Or at least saved someone other than yourself."
The doctor walked past Will and he was gone in the blink of a eye.
"I am going to remove this gauze and fix your hand," the doctor said, bringing over a kit.
Smith only had a long, sad sigh in return as she cut away the gauze.
"Another person willing to help you?" Will asked. "Just like we did for you," Will tsked. "And you're doing nothing in return."
"It should have been me," Smith repeated.
"That's what they all think after a tragedy and disasters," the doctor said, as she used a small device to repair the injury. "It could have been worse."
"It should have been me," Smith emphasized. "Not him."
"You're right it should have been you," Will said, his voice lingering from beside him. "It would have been less painful for my folks."
"I am sure your family is worried for you," the doctor said, putting the device away.
"Oh, the pain. . ." Smith said, taking his hand back from the doctor. "The pain. . ."
"What did you just say?" the doctor asked, raising her head up.
"The pain, the pain," Will said, mockingly. "Is it not funny that you're in actual pain and I am not?"
Smith's eyes were aimed toward the dusted figure.
"It should have been me," Smith said.
"I knew someone who once said that a lot," The doctor said, pressing buttons. Smith was scanned in a blue light and a holographic screen appeared beside her with the results of the scan. Smith could tell that it indicated he was in perfect health and hearty. "We lost them awhile ago."
"It should have been me," Smith repeated.
"Do you feel internal pain?" the doctor asked. "My readings indicate you're fine but I don't trust the equipment."
Smith's eyes registered her.
"In the heart, dear. . ." Smith said, lowering his head down toward his hands. "just the heart."
The doctor brought over a padd device then tapped on it.
"Hold your hands out," the doctor said.
Smith's trembling hands relaxed then placed on to the device.
"Try to hold them still, please," The doctor requested.
She noticed the small cuts on his fingers.
"Where did you get those from?" The doctor asked.
Smith didn't reply.
"Rocks?" the doctor asked.
"Diamond hunting," Smith supplied, as the blue light outlined his fingers with a warm hum.
"There's no diamonds in there," the doctor said. "Why do you need diamonds?"
There was a light beep from the device.
"To use as currency. . . " Smith said, withdrawing his trembling hands placing them onto his lap. "currency. . . Currency, dear." he had difficulty going on. He cleared his throat with a shaky breath. "That is the second readily available currency accepted by space stations."
"Oh," the doctor said.
She stopped, looking over toward his ring. She slowly looked up from the ring toward Smith. There was life in his watery eyes. His watery eyes were full of grief. Shame, despair, and sadness was radiating off the man. She read the padd then looked at Smith with wide, shocked eyes and stepped away.
"It should have been me," Smith repeated, this time more softly.
The doctor retreated away from Smith.
Smith looked down toward his aged, small hands.
There were times where he had faced loss but none were as heavy as this one. Knowing it was his fault. His fault for losing someone close to him. These were hands that he once used to use Will as his shield. Hands that once held the unconscious boy after being zapped by the entity of the week. Hands that once tended to the boy's injuries to the best of his ability. Hands that had taken part in sabotage. They were just grayed, depressing hands staring back at him. The world around him was going slowly and everything was gray around him. He couldn't see Will mocking him or hear him for that matter. The room was dark and empty. He could see back into the days where he trained the Robinsons's mind for space, and as it turned out, that mind training being unnecessary. As someone who had no training for his mind to deal with breaking orbit, it was quite fascinating for that matter.
He could remember meeting the children for the first time. Will, babbling about being a space scout and how he was doing in the first summer. He remembered reading about the children's IQ, something that genuinely shocked Smith, making it seem logical that they were in fact the perfect family. Having to prod the conversation to start with Penny, a quiet girl who was busy imagining while he manned the machine. Her eyes wandered around the room lost in thought. Judy singing, providing a distraction for him when he came to think that never again would he see them after the launch. It was comforting at best. A memory that he could always hold onto. A memory that he will always treasure.
The simple fact was that he couldn't go back to face the Robinsons.
He couldn't face having to return with Will's limp body in his arms.
The screams coming from Maureen and John exiling him.
Don holding onto Judy as she wept.
Penny running away into the Jupiter holding on to Debbie.
And the Robot unable to decide what to do as Smith walked away perhaps for good.
Smith couldn't forgive himself knowing that it was his fault that Will was dead. He couldn't go back to such a forgiving, kind family with that added guilt on his mind. He looked up to see the doctor enter the room. Holding her hand out for the man to come and join her. He recognized the gesture then followed after her. The corridors were dark and foreboding as his soul once been long ago. The quarters were sufficient and different at the same time from the ones aboard the Jupiter 2. It was like a apartment with a view of space. How long he had been in the med bay was beyond Smith. He can see the white holes in the black screen. He came over to the side of the window where he leaned against it. The Jupiter 2 never had windows in quarters. They were small and comfy. It was relaxing to a point. Taking his mind off space and make him believe that he was back on Earth.
He put his hands onto the ledge.
"It should have been me," Smith said, slowly sliding down against the wall. Smith cupped the side of his face with his hand. "It should have been me."
