The hatch was slid open. Judy was the first one to enter the space pod then fall into her mother's arms. What she heard from the young woman was disturbing. Fragments about the horror that she saw became real in the woman's mind. She can see it in her minds eye. Judy told her enough about the threat that she knew it was one of a kind. Maureen stroked the back of Judy's head in relief that her little girl had returned safe and sound. She saw Don come in then lean against the wall with a chest wound then press on the injury. Don gave a nod in return as she was hugging Judy. She closed her eyes. Her family was going to be okay. Her family was going to be okay. Will was going to wake up.
She opened her eyes as Judy stepped out of the hug and moved to the side. The door closed behind the expectant man. Maureen had a small audible gasp at Smith. He was in a strange two piece uniform that was mainly black with white sleeves that had dark outlined shapes. There was a long cut along the right side of his face that was still bleeding. She turned her attention up now absorbing in how much Smith had changed. He had bags under his eyes that were more visible than before. He had changed from a cowardly individual into a miserable, sad old man.
"It's the mustache," Don said. "Isn't it?"
"Doesn't really scream Smith at first glance," Judy agreed.
"Partially," Maureen said. "I understand you did not stay long."
"Not long enough, madame," Smith said. "If I stayed a few more minutes. . . William wouldn't be in a coma."
"It wouldn't have mattered if you stayed a couple minutes," Maureen said. "Time goes differently between here and our little corner of space."
Don came to the console then flipped the switches above his head.
"It has been two weeks," Judy said.
"You would have had to stand there for hours for the Robot to catch your energy signature," Maureen approached Smith.
"And Penny?" Smith asked, softly.
"She is in a rough patch right now," Maureen said.
"What kind of bad rough patch is it?" Smith prodded.
"She has bad nightmares about the collapse," Maureen explained. "I think they will go away as soon as Will is back."
"It doesn't happen overnight," Smith said. "when it comes to cases like these. . . ." Smith paused looking back at a distant memory. "Healing for her will take time."
"And you?" Judy asked.
"I never healed," Smith said, resting down to a chair.
Maureen came over to a cargo container at the back end of the pod. She flipped it open then dived into the box searching around for a portable medical kit. She found a dark gray suitcase with the plus sign in the center. She took the suitcase out then came over to Smith's side and placed placed it onto the table. She slid open the compartment then returned toward Smith. She was used to making improvised sutures when he was unable to attend. She gently dabbed away the blood from his face all the while cleaning up the wound. Maureen went to work using the suture. Smith was silent, extremely still not speaking a word. The space pod flew out of the asteroid through out of the slowly closing door then darted into freedom. Familiar, uncertain freedom. The space pod flew into a familiar warp leaving the evacuated pods behind. She sutured up the wound with care and precision. She looked down toward his hand to see a long, curved scar in the palm. Big enough that she could visualize a diamond.
There was heavy guilt in his eyes. He had walked around three months as a shadow of himself. Carrying survivors guilt on his shoulders wherever he went. She didn't want to think about how many times he wished that it was him who had been under the rubble not Will. She gently reached her hand out toward Smith's hand, grabbed a hold of it, and squeezed his hand. Smith's grayed eyes acknowledged her in a very tired kind of way. Wordlessly, it was conveyed to Smith that Will would have felt the same if it were him who survived. Smith nodded in return, understandingly, then pat on her hand. The map appeared on the screen displaying the spaceship that they were heading back towards.
"Rogers mystery rations anyone?" Maureen offered.
"Yes," came Don and Judy.
Maureen came over to the small pack that Tomlinson had packed for them. Smith expected for the stinky mystery bars to be taken out only instead to face a pleasant smell. Smith slid the box over toward himself. The Robot must have refined the food to make it more appealing for consumption. The mystery bars were even more thicker than before and wider to be mistaken as a chocolate bar. It had been a long time since he had eaten chocolate. Smith turned his attention over to Don as the women looked for the chairs as the ship was in autopilot.
"Zip your uniform down," Smith said.
"You don't look too well yourself," Don said.
Smith raised a brow.
"Doubting my medical capabilities, are you?" Smith asked.
"No, no, no," Don said. "It is just that. . ."
"I look very sick," Smith finished for him. "I get that often."
"Why is it that?" Don asked.
"I don't feel alive as you do, Major," Smith replied, as Don unzipped the uniform. "What a nasty cut you got there."
"And would you like a mystery bar, Smith?" Maureen asked, concerned
"No," Smith said, carefully taking out the instruments to start suturing. "I had some breakfast-egg-noodles for dinner."
