The light in his eyes went out. The feeling of having a full stomach lingered not just the feeling of something restricting his throat threatening to close it and prevent another gulp of air coming down the passageway. To be even more specific, it felt like he was being drowned when he wasn't being held underwater and breathing perfectly. There were times in the day that he can feel this strange feeling slip into his left lung in a rather unique emotional way different from having a injury that resulted from a toothpick being swallowed. Pieces of heaviness falling down into his stomach coming down his intestines had become a old friend. The edges of his right eye leaked the occasional tear after he cried the first five nights in prison. The distinct feeling of sadness dangling in his heart had become acquainted to him. What peace that Smith had before the trial was all but gone replaced by the fresh grief that stung and haunted him. Like band-aids had been peeled away, the old wounds opened, letting out the nastiness of all his grief.

Living in the present featured moments of abrupt crying. The prison food was awful. Low grade, ungentle, and unappealing food staring back at him that was just lumps of color. His stomach felt full. There was no desire to eat the food laid in front of him on the tray. But he had to eat. He had to live out the rest of his life paying for his mistake. How could he eat with with guilt laying in his stomach? Why did he survive? Why couldn't they have survived? It was unfair to him. Space was unfair. Life was unfair. He clung on to the bed sheets pressing his face against the pillow letting go of a fresh dozen of tears and sobbing. The pain of losing family didn't go away after being without them for a year. Smith didn't talk to the therapist in the next few sessions only staring out the window, defeatedly, yearning for freedom and his family. Moving on from such a loss wasn't going to be easy. It was difficult as it was landing back on to Earth purely blind using the radio traffic from Alpha Control as his guide. The therapist had decided to go about it a different way, asking about how he survived after losing them and slowly he was opening up about it.

Things were going to get better. The feelings were going to get easier to bare. That was very certain for Smith. Things are going to get easier as the pain grew softer, eased, and more comfortable to live with from day to day. It wasn't going to be easy to find that peace once more carrying himself for another day. The will to survive was strong for the doctor. It would have been a much better existence that the Robinsons hadn't died so suddenly on him. Able to make his goodbyes. He was sure the Robinsons felt the same regarding the matter but being happy that they were together and safe. Safe from certain danger. The pain would have been easier to deal had the Robot survived the initial event. It was a selfish wish. Pure and simple from someone grieving for the most kind family. A family that had been his family. No matter what everyone had said about his feelings for the Robinsons and motives staying with them, most of them were half right and half wrong. In the beginning, they had been a pest that could be rid of in exchange for a return to Earth. In the beginning, they were nothing more than strangers to him. How he wished they were still strangers to him.

He didn't open the package on the counter from across the bed in the first two weeks. Weeks that felt a eternity by himself. When in reality, he was surrounded by hundreds of people in the same facility. Walking aimlessly, invincible, to people who were just transparent figures who paid no heed to him. It was a on-going hell that he had made for himself. The Jupiter 2 offered no companionship not even her engines, her scanners, or the other parts of her. The automatic pilot to the ship provided a means to a imaginary companion who left him as soon as he was walked out of the ship with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had hoped that the Robinsons never got the chance to see the undignified cuffs on his hands being guided out of the Jupiter 2 upon their return to Earth. But that his wish had been granted at a terrible cost was heartbreaking. It made Smith take back all his wishes in the last few years to reach Earth.

There was a certain calm that echoed through the facility. Knowing what was going to happen next became a calming and reassuring assurance. Different from the unpredictable day to day being tense, lonely, and scary period aboard the Jupiter. The dreams of that day had become few and between. The nightmares were fading in his first two weeks in prison. He had stopped expecting the Robinsons to come to his rescue a long time ago. Too long. If it meant keeping the Robinsons alive in his mind then there it was nothing to talk about. Compared to life aboard the almost empty haunted vessel, doing tasks alongside people felt like a kinder work day. Only these people didn't say a hello or two. That was good. He didn't feel the need to chatter endlessly as he used to be. They had a strict rule regarding talking. Only talk when spoken to outside of the cafeteria. The cafeteria was free range for the convicts to speak with each other freely. Smith was fine with that but some inmates were not.

He was handed a set of papers one morning. He sat down on the bed then gradually opened it in his cell. One by one they read his certificates being revoked for psychology and practicing medicine. The only thing that he had left was his name. He briefly closed his eyes then tossed all the papers away into the trash can. The family name 'Smith' had become forever ruined, linked to his mistake and a mass public assumption. A lie, fake news, and a story without the victims to come and elaborate behind the journal's entries. It was a low point in his life. Surrounded in darkness. He raised his head up high toward the wall across from him. Things were going to get better. Good enough to smile, to laugh, to be happy, to be content, and at a point in his life that was yanked out from underneath him.

He didn't see any hallucinations of the Robinsons anymore when the letters came in and that is when it hit him harder that they were gone. Never going to be standing in front of him speaking. He missed the Robinsons, dearly, but to move on was to cherish them and look forward toward the future. To dwell the present as his Aunt Maude used to encourage him. He was alive in familiar surroundings, familiar species, he wasn't trapped aboard a flying death trap, and he had hit rock bottom. His eyes caught size of the yellow packaging on the counter laid underneath piles of medical books that had fallen sideways landing on to it. Presently, he wasn't a doctor. Presently, he was a convict. Presently, he had to do the thing that he enjoyed the most.

"Court yard hour!" came the loud, alarming shout that made Smith jump.

Smith looked over toward the door then stood up to his feet. His cell door rolled open and he joined the growing line of prisoners. They were guided out to the massive court yard that had various equipment. A group of prisoners began to play basketball, some centered together to a set of chairs and began a reading circle. The convicted officer stopped in the middle of the courtyard. The former doctor saw a familiar field from ahead that consisted of a desert like scenery with few patches of grass, dead trees, cactuses, and sweltering heat. It was golden to his eyes with hints of sparkles that stood out similar to the sand on a beach.

He was tempted to approach the fence. A temptation that he had been resisting since his first court yard time. And yet, he needed to say goodbye to turn the page up into the next chapter. He wanted to say the words but they could not come out. He approached the fence tapping his fingers together then came to it and pressed his fingers against the cold, silver barbs. From his mind's eye, while his body was pressed against the gray fence, he looked on to view the Jupiter 2 on ahead with the Robinsons in attendance at the table glowing golden with optimistic chatter without him. Smith grew a small, sad smile then closed his eyes trapping the treasured imagery into his mind.

Then he turned away, opening his eyes, heading in the direction of the exercise equipment.