TRAUMATIZED

This is an AU based on the third-season episode, "Target Earth."

            The alien duplicates had taken over the Jupiter II, and were piloting it to Earth, to invade. The real Will and the real Dr. Smith had managed to stay aboard, and had been doing their best to thwart the alien mission. Smith had been caught, and had been manhandled by the duplicate John and Don and imprisoned in the space pod. Will was still at large hiding around the corner of the hatch bay, just beyond the inner airlock.

            A meteor hit the Jupiter; the ship tilted crazily; and Will fell out of hiding. Right in front of the alien John and Don. They advanced on him. Will winced in fear and flattened against the wall.

            John bellowed, "But first, we'll get rid of this little meddler!" He roughly seized Will's upper arm and yanked him forward.

            Don violently gripped Will's other upper arm, and the two men forcibly dragged the child across the upper deck.

            Hours later, the aliens having been defeated, and the humans having been restored to their vessel, the real John and Don, basking in the joy of their own control room again, began to realize that Smith was more quiet, meek, and reserved than usual.

            "You got that impression, too?" John replied to Don's observation on the subject.

            "Normally, I'd be expecting him to be preening and prancing his pompous self around here about now," Don pointed out, "since he and Will single-handedly conquered those invaders. Instead, he's, as Smith would say, 'lurking in the nether-regions' of the ship."

            Both laughed.

            Then John sobered. "Come to think of it, we haven't seen that much of Will, either. You know, maybe he'd be the one to ask."

            Don nodded. "But like you pointed out, he's not up here for us to ask, either. It's as if they're both hiding."

            John looked doubtful. "Well, hiding may be too strong a word."

            Don eyed him. "Let's find out." He picked up the intercom microphone and activated it. "Smith?"

            A timid voice said, "Yes, Major? Sir?"

            John and Don looked at each other. Sir??

            Don hesitated, at a loss for what to say next. "Uh, what are you doing down there?"

            Now the voice was fearful. "Nothing, sir, I assure you. Nothing at all. I'm just sitting here."

            Don looked perplexed.

            John reached for the mike. "Smith, are you all right?"

            "Yes, Professor. Sir. I'm fine."

            "Would you like to come up here a moment?" he suggested experimentally.

            "Oh please. Let me stay here. May I?" Smith sounded downright subservient.

            The pitiful plea stopped John, who helplessly replied, "Sure. Stay there. Robinson out." He thumbed the switch and asked Don, "Now what do you make of that?"

            Don speculated, "Do you suppose that Smith did something wrong while we were gone, and now he's afraid we'll find out?"

            John answered, "But Will, too?" He thought for a moment. "Would Will hide, too, to cover for Smith?"

            Then, they both chorused, "Yes!"

            "Let's see." John reactivated the switch. "Will? Can you hear me, son?"

            "Yes, Dad." Did the voice sound anxious?

            "Come up here please, son."

            "Yes, Dad." Did the voice sound reluctant?

            John looked at Don. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

            Will emerged from the elevator and remained by it, on the opposite side of the room from John and Don where they sat at the main viewport. The two men exchanged glances.

            "Come here, Will," John encouraged him.

            Will walked with obvious reluctance to within three feet of them, and stopped. John and Don rose in concern. Will flinched. John reached out and laid a caring hand on Will's upper arm. The boy winced and pulled back from him.

            "Will!" John was thoroughly worried now. "What is it, son?"

            Will seemed to wilt in resignation. "All right. I guess I can't avoid telling you." He sighed.

            "Tell us what?" Don urged.

            "Your duplicates." Will was clearly uncomfortable.

            "What about them?" John prompted.

            "They...they were very rough with Dr. Smith and me. They hurt us. And...I know it's irrational to transfer our fear to you, but...I...I just can't...."

            "Hurt you?" John was alarmed. "Hurt you how?"

            Will considered, and then said, "I guess I'd better just show you." He reluctantly, painfully, pulled off his shirt to reveal the massive purple-blue bruises on his upper arms.

            John gasped in shock and rage. "Oh my god."

            Don surmised, "Smith, too?"

            Will nodded. "Dr. Smith, too."

            "No wonder," Don realized.

            "I don't think they meant to; they were just yanking us around, but they're very strong. Like you."

            "That's no excuse," John muttered tightly, clenching his fist in fury.

            Will squirmed noticeably.

            John softened, realizing that his helpless anger was not helping Will. He opened his fingers and reached out a tender, gentle caressing hand to touch the darkened areas. "Oh, Will, I'm so sorry they hurt you!"

            "Well," Will tried to explain, "That's not the worst part. It's what they did to me up here." He indicated his head. "It was hard for me to be roughed up by people with your faces, and your voices." He looked at both of them.

            "And now you're afraid of us," Don realized.

            "I try not to be. But then, I keep reliving what happened, and I keep seeing how they looked at me, and I keep feeling what they did to me, and it's you...."

            "It's not us," John reminded him.

            Will was struggling. "I...I know. But I've never seen that look on your faces aimed at me before, and now I have. It's the way you two look at Dr. Smith when you want to clobber him."

            "I understand, Will." John knelt in front of him and slid careful arms around his waist and pulled him close, resting Will's head against his shoulder, carefully not bumping his sore upper arms.

            "They made me see you two hurting me," Will mumbled into John's shoulder, "and I've already fallen asleep and had one nightmare...."

            Don offered, "Psychologically, it's as if we did it."

            "Yes," John acknowledged. "But Will, I promise you, I guarantee you, we will never, never hurt you like that."

            "No, we sure won't." Don ruffled Will's hair fondly.

            "I believe you. Of course I do. It...it's just going to take time."

            "I know," John said. "I know you'll be all right, son. And if you're skittish around us for a little while, we'll understand."

            "Sure we will," Don agreed.

            John gently broke from the embrace and rose.

            "I...I feel a little better now," Will assured them.

            "Good." John smiled, and then turned to Don. "But now I guess we'd better go do something about Smith."

            Don nodded.

            "Be careful," Will cautioned them. "They really messed him up."

            "Worse than you?"

            "No. The same. But remember, he was already afraid of you two before this happened. I wasn't."

            They nodded.

            John tapped on Smith's door. "Smith?"

            A whimper was the only reply. John slid the door aside, and he and Don remained in the doorway, watching a terrified Smith who was seated on the bed and gazing at them in clear trepidation.

            "Easy, Smith." John held up a comforting hand. "We know what happened to you. Will told us. And we're sorry."

            "You know?" Some of the tension went out of Smith's stiff form. "Oh, Professor! Major! I...!"

            "We understand, Smith," Don reassured him, as the two eased themselves farther into the room.

            "You know, it's ironic," Smith mused. "For so long, you two have been tempted to get rough with me. And for so long, I've dreaded it, wondering what it would be like if you did, just how unbearable it would be. And now, I've had the horrible experience, and you haven't. It happened without you."

            John and Don smiled faintly in acknowledgement of the irony.

            Smith went on, "It's a pity it wasn't the other way around: you having the experience without me. You're the ones who would've enjoyed it." His voice broke. He sobbed, and his hands covered his face.

            The two men clearly did not know what to say. Presently, Smith's hands dropped back into his lap. He went on, "But I believe that Will got it worse than I did. Because he resisted them. I didn't." Smith met their eyes. "I couldn't." His plaintive tone and his frightened gaze touched them both deeply. "You both know that I'm afraid of you."

            "We know," John said softly. Both men moved closer, and were deeply moved by the poignant look in Smith's eyes. Don made a futile hand gesture in Smith's direction, and the older man leaned his sad, scared face against the major's side and sobbed against him.

            Don mumbled awkwardly, "We never meant to do this to you. I mean, this badly."

            Smith raised his gaze up to the major's face. "Thank you," he whispered.

            For his part, John could see that Don was a bit uncomfortable at the awkward closeness, and he seated himself on the far side of Smith, patted his hand, and gently drew the older man's head onto his own shoulder. Gratefully, Don moved and sat down on Smith's other side, and patted the hand that was closer to him.

            That was how they sat, with each younger man's hand covering the older hand nearer to him, when Will quietly entered the room. He saw, and smiled.