"You're being moved to another prison in New York," Davis said, once the door opened to Smith's cell. "And put into general population. That's all they would say."

Smith propped his last book into the box gazing at the lieutenant.

He looked down toward the box.

There was a lot of reluctance to leave the prison the same way he came.

The feel of cuffs, the feel of a square object between his wrists and the familiar ankle bracelet digging into his skin that made it hard to walk properly only to do a slow shuffle. It wasn't a experience that he liked to do a repeat of in the near future. Smith sighed, knowingly, as Davis closed the door. He shook his head. He was yanked out of the opportunity to be left to a much desired existence. He didn't mind this existence but he would object to that one. Being transferred from military to civilian was puzzling. Couldn't he have been transferred to another military prison? It felt like he was being thrown away by the United States into the general population that could as well spell his untimely demise. Smith wasn't going to go down so easily if they thought they could wash their hands of him and never have to be responsible for him. He was going to be brave just as much as he was terrified.

He slipped the pocket watch into his pocket. He looked up toward the window letting in a fresh pool of light that was blinding to the camera then refocused moving out to reveal Smith alongside the window staring out observing the fields. Being moved from a comforting, barren desert to a calming, green scenery didn't stir the typical joy that Smith had felt. Only it bounced more to Smith's eyes that was brighter than how he had viewed it as a dark shade months ago. The sky's bright blue intensity stood out to him in a welcoming way that didn't terrify him but he knew better. He knew better. He knew he was safe. There was no need to yank him out into space for the time being. He could welcome danger that Earth had to throw at him. It wasn't as terrifying as facing aliens who threatened to take him away for their selfish reasons.

The sight of hawks gliding in the air made a small smile appear on his face. The man sighed, watching the hawk disappear into the distance. He could make out shapes among the cloud drawing himself out of a pleasant memory. He spotted the shapes of animals and furniture among the clouds not just the stereotypical perception of cloud spaceships. One of the clouds bore a great resemblance to the flying tin can that he had desperately put together time and time again during the year long flight. Smith gazed down toward his cuffed hands. His hands bore healing scars from all the care that he had done to the bridge and to the external hulls very carefully. Not only the fading burn marks from the visit by dream Penny. Looked like a dent had not been done to the ship. At least, until he had landed into worse attacks nearing the end of the long journey that sent the Jupiter falling down to planet side to perform emergency repairs when so close to home.

The scenery changed before his eyes from the highway to the country road to a paved, well traveled road.

Smith could see up ahead there was a long facility with the shape of fencing on the top of the walls that were being curved and thin. Unexpected dread settled inside the man.

"DANGER, DANGER!" Smith heard the Robot's voice. "Doctor Smith!"

Smith looked over in alarm at the source of the voice to see that he was surrounded by stone faced men and women. He turned his attention off them toward the oncoming facility. He was thankful the Robinsons weren't here to see this. Smith believed that he had heard and seen the last of his hallucinations months ago. The long bus drove through the open gate to the prison and the door loudly closed it with a loud thunk. Most of the prisoners were recent convicts still in the outfits that they had been arrested in after being found guilty. The door to the bus opened then he was lead out in a single filed line. Smith observed the large fence that displayed the large courtyard that didn't look any different from the one at the military prison. All except for there being a gray wall that blocked view of the outside world. It quickly became apparent that Smith may never see the outside world from behind these walls. He didn't pay much attention to the prison warden's speech, the laughs, the sound of men yelping then being dragged away clutching onto their injury crying out of pain.

He was handed a new prison uniform after walking in to the prison. It was a three piece jumpsuit. Black v-neck shirt, black pants, and orange long sleeved shirt set underneath the black uniform that had his prison number with his name set underneath it. His ankle cuffs were released and so were the hand cuffs that made his skin cry out of joy with the momentary freedom. He rubbed his wrist then stepped forward into the gray stall and closed the door behind him where he changed into it. He sneaked in his silver wrist watch and the grandfather's watch. Bitter reminders of what he had lost. The only physical reminder that he had left of his family that he could take with him around the prison. The silver wrist watch was slid into his pocket while changing as was the grandfather's watch. He tossed aside the orange jump suit and the white shirt with it. Truth be told, he was afraid. Very afraid about what laid ahead of him.

Smith was guided down the hall where he heard "BooOOoo!", demeaning shouts to his character, and the clattering of metal in the very first moment that he walked between the long halls of cells.

"You are a piece of shit!"

He held his head up high looking down the long cell block.

"Traitor!"

The small group came to a stop in front of what was presumably his cell.

"You asshole!"

The cell was less larger than the one in military prison and the bars were slid open.

"Perfect," Smith commented.

Smith slid the box on to the counter then the door behind him was closed. He looked over toward the much thinner, less wide window from across with larger bars that seemed thick to him. He could make this place a home. He observed the stale, white wall that had visible signs that there used to be posters hung here. He slipped the wrist watch out of his pocket then slid it onto his right wrist feeling the cold, prickly metal cling on to his skin. He tugged at the other sleeve uncurling it so that the red thin band couldn't be seen on the other side. Smith set up the series of books on the shelf making a quick organization. Smith sat down onto the cot then took out the watch and flipped it open to observe the Robinsons. A blanket of security and safety wrapped around the convict.