Someone entered the quarters over a hour later.

The sound of a door gently closing on its own came from behind him.

"And you must be Don West," It came from a sad, defeated man rather than the over-the-top, dramatic coward who was cool and composed when it came to his playing field. Smith slowly turned from the window feeling a little dead inside, in the direction of the individual. Smith couldn't see color clearly as he used to. It was like he were watching a old time picture. The man had a beard and a widows peak.

"No. . . Professor Robinson." John looked at Smith. "How long have you been out in space?"

"It feels like a hundred happy years. . ." He came over toward the table. He felt a little sick inside. His stomach twisting up. A headache coming on from his head. He placed his hands onto the desk. "At least, it feels that way being aboard the Jupiter 2."

"I wouldn't describe being aboard this ship as 'happy'," John said.

"You know the guilt of throwing a ship off course?" Smith asked.

"No," John said.

"Being personally responsible for it?" Smith asked.

John stared at the man.

"No," John said.

"Rather than completing a mission and being done with it?" Smith prodded.

"Now that part I understand," John said.

"Not being the source of their pain. They would be dead, yes, but they would have been together. Not having to bury one of their own in space," Smith said. "A fantasy. I know it was a fantasy because I was always meant to be there during the launch, because if I hadn't sabotaged the Robot and got stuck then the Robinsons would have died in cryostasis after six months in space," Smith shook his head. "I found that out the hard way after distracting the time merchant and going back one hour before lift off. . . For once, I was fearless yesterday. That got William killed. It should have been me. They would have lost their only doctor but it would have been enough." He came toward the window then combed down his face.

"Only doctor?" John asked.

"Only doctor," Smith said.

"What about Judy?" John said.

"Judy is a singer," Smith said, depressingly.

"I find that hard to believe as she is the one who treated you," John said.

"Then your Zachary is dead," Smith said.

"He did," John said. "He made sure we left Alpha Centauri while he distracted Global Sedition. Playing them like a fiddle. . . and then you know what he did? He set it up to take them with him should they try to kill him. We're still trying to find a way back to our time."

"How long did he last?" Smith said.

"Two years," John said. "Very difficult years."

"Of course, I have to outlast my counterparts," Smith said. "Of course."

"Where are you from?" John asked.

"Sweet green and beautiful Earth," Smith said.

"You're from a alternate universe," John said.

"Alternate universe inhabitants don't lose color in their eyes," Smith said.

"They don't but maybe they do. You're a first," John said. "and I am going to have Don turn this ship around."

"No," Smith said, shaking his head. "I can't face them."

"Face who?" John asked.

"The professor and the madame," his voice carried a certain fondness to them and great respect. "Popping up would be painful for them. I like to spare them that."

"At least they know what happened," John said. "They think you're dead."

"Let them," Smith said. "Because for all I am concerned, I am dead."

A certain realization dawned on John.

"I can't face William's cor-I can't." he shook his head. "I can't do it! I can't face the man who gave away five years of his life for me and I took away his son's life! All hundred years of it! I can't go back through that cave without my best friend alive and well. If I went back, I would be exiled for good and shunned. I . . . I can't. . . I can't go back, you see?"

"How old was Will?" John asked

"Fifteen," Smith said. "Fifteen. . . Fifteen. . . Would you be very angry if your Zachary was responsible for it?"

"I would be," John said.

"There is no reason for me to go back," Smith said. "This time can't be forgiven."

"You were with them for five years," John said. "Surely, you've done even worse things than that."

"No," Smith said. "This is the worst." Smith sighed. "I was bound to leave the Jupiter 2 party in the first year," He turned from the table toward John. "people like me don't last long in space."

"You are here," John said.

"Because of William," Smith said, with a pained look on his face.

"Will is capable of doing that," John said. "Talking you out of your purgatory."

"No, you don't understand, it was for his emotional well being," Smith said. "Sometimes that applied to duplicates of me taking my place and my certain doom."

"Duplicates?" John asked.

"You are a very lucky man," Smith said, a faint but pained pleased look appeared on his face. "My counterpart was probably on his last straw with you."

"Yes, he was," John said. "We would have abandoned him at a space station with the right kind of people if we hadn't came across Alpha Centauri colonized by Global Sedition and found Dimondium to save our dying planet."

Smith's face fell at the last part.

Smith knew by the inside that his counterpart did it for money just like he did. And his employers might not have been aliens, but in fact environmental activists who had abandoned him to his fate with the Robinsons. A constant defining moment in his fate in however way it happened. Smith sat down into the red, warm chair clasping his hands. He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to reply. And he didn't have any words to say. The green, homely planet being full of smog and darkness and a planet killing itself was cracking him bit by bit. He could see the dried up bodies of lakes in his minds eye. And yet, the idea that his counterpart loved Earth as much as he did was eyebrow raising. Uncomfortable, mean, and predictable to him. He couldn't speak up for his name. There was nothing good to speak of it in defense. He had doomed the Robinsons and perhaps-

"Did Earthlings get off Earth?" Smith asked, in a small voice looking toward John.

"We found a ship in our first space adventure," John said. "Earthly origin. They made it off."

Smith closed his eyes and regained his bearings then opened them.

"I am sorry," Smith apologized, looking up toward John. "It was a mistake to betray you." John started to approach Smith and reached his hand out for Smith's shoulder. "Please," John's hand stopped. "Don't." John took his hand back.

"When do you feel like you can come out of this room and be alive?" John asked.

"Alive. . ." Smith said. Smith looked up toward John. "Being alive has different meanings to different people, Professor."

"Are we ever truly alive?" John said. "That's a good question. I don't have a answer for that."

"Me too," Smith said. "I don't feel alive."

"When you feel like yourself then you're alive in my book," John said, then walked out of the room leaving Smith who was rubbing his chin.