At eight thirty-three in the morning on the road to Los Vegas appeared two orange figures laid on the floor that regained their color set across from each other like two dolls placed parallel to each other with their heads meeting. Franklin started to laugh as Smith turned over to his side, squeezing his eyes, moving his hand onto his side. Franklin propped himself up to his feet. Smith placed his head on the paved road bending his figure up then placed a hand on his forehead while his figure trembled. What sobbing sounds were coming from Smith were drowned out by the man's cackling.

"You cheeky old bastard," Franklin said, his back to Smith. He turned back in the older man's direction. "So you did have it in you-" He stopped. "You really cared about it."

"Him," Smith correct, wiping off tears from his eyes. "I will never let myself get close to anyone else after today," he lowered his hand. "Space calls for me every so decade," He placed his hands onto his knees gazing toward the morning sky. "and because of it people die around me."

He wore a tired, exhausted, irritable expression turning his head toward the young man then lifted himself to his feet on his own covering a part of his side.

"You can't be serious," Franklin said.

"Don't believe me as you like," Smith said. "Now you will know how it feels to be not believed."

"They will believe me," Franklin said.

"Do you have evidence?" Smith asked.

"No," Franklin said.

"Collaborating reliable witnesses?" Smith asked.

"Yes," Franklin said.

"No," Smith said.

"You're a eyewitness to what happened," Franklin said.

"I am not," Smith said. "I am unreliable. Who would believe Zachary Smith. . . a saboteur, murderer, former spy?"

"They will believe me," Franklin said.

"Here is the evidence," Smith said. "you came back without Waltercoth, you escaped from prison, and helped out another prisoner from hospital." he gestured toward the ground. "I don't see a alien spear lying around. . . ." he clasped his hands together. "Do you?"

Franklin looked down toward the ground.

"No," Franklin said. "Ooh shit."

Smith turned then walked away, pressing his small hand against his side.

"Where are you going?" Franklin asked.

Smith closed his eyes with a sigh then turned toward the younger man.

"To find the nearest town and turn myself in," Smith replied. "You blockhead."

Smith turned away from Franklin continuing in the direction that he had started.

"Be that way," Franklin said, rolling his eye then walked on in the opposite direction.

Franklin walked further and further away into the landscape.

He came to a stop observing the familiar surroundings. He had driven down this road a long time ago with a car packed with friends singing to music and being in better spirits. He was headed the wrong way. The nearest town was behind him rather than ahead. He turned away with a groan. Having to face the old man again? What a tragedy. What was the universe trying to tell him? To put aside his anger at Smith for what he had done? Exactly what Eyepatch had told him. He walked in the direction that he had came in through the hot, steaming temperature. He saw a distant dark limp figure laid alongside the road. Franklin grew alarmed and looked back at his memory of the vicious firing by Smith. Smith had stood tall, confident, and very upset with his shoulders raised pressing on the trigger. It seemed like everything had gone in slow motion when in fact it was occurring rather quickly. His eyes were on the targets that were struck and began to fall from the blast. One of them had pressed the trigger to a weapon that resembled a baseball bat with several small items flying out. He came to the older man's side then peeled the man's hand off the side and saw his bloodied hand. Franklin laughed, raising his head up toward the sky.

Proof. Proof. PROOF.

"We have evidence after all," Franklin said, lowering his head down toward the old man with a smile. "Smith."

Franklin slipped up the pong from the hole in the belt including the metal pressed against it then slid it out from around the man's figure and took out a handkerchief from the man's pocket. He pressed the handkerchief against the bleeding injury then wrapped the belt around the man's waist. Franklin took out his handkerchief then placed it under the belt. He made the belt tighter to make sure the handkerchief was tightly placed so it wouldn't fall out. Smith was seemingly unconscious. Franklin observed the small pool of blood that seemed to have been gathering along the man's torso staining the dirt. Smith had lost a decent amount. Franklin lifted the well aging man up to his feet then swung his arm onto his shoulder keeping a hand placed against his waist and held on to the man's loose hand. The younger man walked alongside the road heading down the road watching for passing vehicles.

"What planet are we on?" Smith asked.

"Earth," Franklin said.

"Feels like Preplanis," Smith said. "is it Gulbaris? Did we get dropped off here?"

"Earth," Franklin said.

"The second planet we were stranded on for a year," Smith said.

"We're on Earth," Franklin repeated, annoyed.

"Not that much different from this planet except it had three moons," Smith said. "Remember, Don?"

"Oh my god, you're hallucinating," Franklin said. "You must have lost a lot of blood."

"Dancing under the moonlight with Judy thinking no one was watching. . ." His eyes slowly fluttered close, briefly. "I was watching," he grew a guilty look on his face. "I was unable to sleep so I watched young love dance in front of the forcefield and my. . . you were quite dashing together." Smith sounded so nostalgic looking off into the distance though he were at the bridge again in the front seat watching them dance outside. "So perfect for each other that was complimenting both of your attributes. Young, pretty, handsome--we are neither of that, anymore. Are we, General? Too old to be pulled into this situation?"

Franklin shifted toward the distant road behind him hearing the sound of wheels and loud humming.

"You are," Franklin said. "But I am not." Franklin stepped forward unwrapping his hand from Smith's waist and waved his hand frantically at the approaching vehicle headed his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey!"

"Being twenty years younger than your friend always helps," Smith added.

A silver green van approached the two coming to a stop in front of Franklin. Smith observed the subtle differences ranging from the big wheels with dark gray blocks in the center lacking tires, the sleek upper frame that was more wide, a black strip that divided the two colors in half, it lacked a rail up front but instead had a glass yellow addition on the lower half, there were two sun roofs that were halfway open being obvious as day, and the doors to the side were slid open to a light gray large interior that had a black family wearing concerned looks. The van was certainly different from the one that he had seen over thirty years ago. More rounder edges, certainly.

"He needs help," Franklin said.

"Andrea, move your chair back," came the woman up front.

One of the two children moved their seats down and slid it forward stepping aside.

"Thank you," Franklin said, moving the man into his arms then brought him inside the van and came to the back.

Franklin slipped the smaller man against the window then the door was closed and the seat was set from behind him. He slipped up the man's legs in order to give himself some more room then rested his eyes. The electric van sped through the very humid scenery. Franklin felt the last of his sweat come down his skin turning his head away. He looked up toward the sun roof in the direction of the blue sky feeling a new found appreciation for being home, again. Earth was kind compared to what was found in outer space. The passing clouds from above seemed like a fluff cotton balls in the atmosphere that seemed calm and serene when really it was fierce and turbulent. The desert scenery was replaced by city buildings. They were several miles away from the prison as determined by the very familiar holographic figures moving from along the buildings. Franklin opened his eyes observing the calm older man man who had a stubble going on and his hair was scattered in a untidy way with sad eyes.

"I am sorry, General West," Smith apologized. He lowered his gaze toward his lap with cupped hands. "I never meant for it to turn out this way."

"Apology not accepted because you are apologizing to my father not to me," Franklin said. "Smith."

Smith had a hand on his injury.

"Much as I am confused as to why you're acting like this, two can play at this game," Smith said.

"Uck, game?" Franklin said. "This isn't a game."

"My amusement is running thin, General," Smith said. "It is only fair I repay it."

"Uh, no it isn't," Franklin said.

"How rude," Smith said. "How you wound me."

"Wait," the other woman turned in her chair. "Wait, wait, is that old guy the actor who portrayed Doctor Smith?"

"The once and only," Smith replied.

"What do you think happened to the Robinsons?" The other woman asked. "In the show."

"They avoided death by cruel means and returned to Earth living happily ever after," Smith said. "Just like real life. If someone were to adapt it into a show."

The other woman looked over in confusion toward West.

"Franklin West," Franklin said. "And that is really Zachary Smith. Real genuine article."

Andrea and her sister gasped.

"OH MY GOD!" The driver, a brown woman, shouted loudly making everyone's heart leap.

She came to a stop then looked over in horror and terror at what she was witnessing before her eyes taking in the man's appearance then her eyes shifted toward Franklin like a animal that had been cornered trying to figure out a way out of this situation. She turned her attention on to her partner. She drove onto the street where people jumped out of the way as the brown screeched incoherently making the car fly over a series of cars over her sheer will. Franklin was moved from side to side by the sheer speed the woman was going taking unnecessary moves just to get there. Her partner made the call to the hospital on the way over the bumps that were in the form of cars. She tapped on the touch screen then looked over worryingly. The brown woman came to a stop at the emergency room entrance. The back door to her vehicle was opened by two doctors.

"Which of you is hurt?" the second doctor asked.

"He is," Franklin said, pointing toward Smith as the gurney was brought over.

Franklin leaned forward sliding the unconscious to his side into the care of the doctors.

They pulled up the side bars and moved the otherwise occupied gurney quickly from the scene.

Franklin leaped out of the van and closed the back door behind him. The van sped off away from the hospital. The young man watched the older man be taken away from him. This time felt final. As though it was the last time that he would ever see Smith again as the doors closed before him and relief finally hit the young man. He looked down to see his trembling hands were covered in Smith's blood. It fully dawned on him that he got someone killed up there feeling his heart sink down from his chest into a river that carried it away ever so gently lowering his gaze toward the ground feeling down. All of his anger toward Smith was redirected at himself. He had let himself be controlled by revenge, a stupid thing, a very stupid thing. The sound of loud, intrusive sirens surrounded the young man.

Officers came out of their cruisers and held their guns out demanding him to hold his hands in the air. Franklin held his hands up in the air then allowed himself to be cuffed and shoved into a car rather rudely. The car door was slammed and the officers drove off with him to the station. The bad feeling sunk down taking him over. He let out a sigh with a lowered head. The familiar cuffs were pressed against his skin in a rather uncomfortable way. When he looked up, they had parked at the station and getting out of the car. He moved himself to the side. Franklin came out of the cruiser then was guided into the station where there were long stares coming from those around him and taken into the interrogation room. He seated down into the slick, cold chair and his cuffs were removed then placed back on and shackled to the floor. The two officers left him be.

"What have I done, mom?" Franklin asked. "What have I done?"

Franklin looked up toward the ceiling then pressed his back against the chair, closing his eyes, regretfully.

He sat there sinking in his disappointment in the silence.

A nice chance from the intense, uncertain time in the station.

He lowered his gaze down toward the table that had a notepad and a pen. He picked up the pen and went on to write his confession on the paper. After that, he was bored sitting there rather depressed with his hands on the edge of the table. He couldn't see what was going on from the other side of the mirror but he theorized that it had to be two cops debating how to best start the questioning. Time was ticking by quickly from outside the walls. The door randomly opened letting in two officers wearing grim looks on their faces. He had to tell them the truth and he had evidence on his side.

"Lieutenant Waltercoth, Smith, and I were transported to a station out in space," Franklin said. "I was betrayed by my employer, Lieutenant Waltercoth was murdered before my eyes by a strange machine that fired at every part of her body, and we watched her die," he sighed, lowering his gaze toward the table. "Smith and I were taken to a holding cell. While we were in there, they played with us. One of us, actually," the camera moved to the side to the operation table where the doctors were busy repairing the damage done by the machines. "Smith came to a few hours afterwards. I got out, tried to find the transport room and instead found this green thing waiting for me. It came back for me and revealed itself to me. A anti-matter Robot somehow got here and was there this entire time. We made a escape but the anti-matter Robot was destroyed. Smith fired at everyone. He got hurt by a strange weapon that sent these small things. Then we were transported back to Earth."

"Smith made it through," came the reply. "But there was nothing that you described in him. You are lying to us."

"What happened to Lieutenant Waltercoth?"

"We know you did it. Why did you do it?"

It hit him.

"Larry, stop it," the male officer said, glaring at his colleague. "He doesn't need that."

Smith convulsing after Franklin had pointed out the lights in the wall.

"Yes, he does, Hank," Larry said. "Where is the knife? Your friends refuse to cooperate about your whereabouts."

"I knew you were alive! That blast was transporting you somewhere!" Smith insisted. "I knew it! I never doubted you for one moment!"

"Can't you tell this man is depressed?" Hank asked, gesturing toward the silent man.

"That wasn't really nice of you to scare me like that, you ninny!"

"He is not depressed," Bob said. "He is not being cooperative."

The host of the rebooted Unsolved Mysteries stood in front of Alpha Control walking alongside the rails, "According to Zachary Smith, he had watched the Robinsons burn alive before his eyes--" the clip played before the screen with stunt doubles with obvious signs of CGI flames drifting off their figures that were being consumed by the flames. "and unable to do a thing to kill the flames."

"I have no idea where her body is," Franklin said. "Probably floating out in space somewhere or maybe worse. . . her body vaporized." Just like the Robinsons.

No evidence to bring back that it happened the way it did.

No eyewitnesses to back him up.

And Franklin never felt so horrible in his life for treating Smith the way he did as it occurred this was how he felt being interrogated.