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He tells Will they are the same.
Ben Adler leans down to meet the boy’s eyes and calls them equals. Implies they are the same species, the same unnamed creatures that find wholeness in metal and stars. In the void of space.
Will has never been the same, not with his family, not with other children. Not even with Robot, though he has always come closer than anyone.
Until now.
There is a part of the boy that wants to deny it. They are not carbon copies, Will knows what is happening to Scarecrow is wrong. He says nothing, but swears to himself Ben can think what he likes.
They will never be the same.
***
Scarecrow reaches for him like Robot once did. The metal claws could draw blood so easily, even without meaning to.
Earlier, Will had been so scared of this creature Penny needed to cover his mouth with her hand. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t conjure that same fear now. Will sees the burns and missing parts and feels the phantom aches in his own flesh and bone. He knows there is pain, and pain makes violence.
His heart beats wildly in his chest and where there should be horror, he only finds pity.
Even after Scarecrow strikes, after Ben forces the robot back in the box, he is still sorry.
***
In his sleep, Will sees fire blasting from his hands and burning into innocent men and women. Their screams merge, one on top of the other, until there is a choir of misery and death. There is another type of fire rising in his chest, as he kills them. It is not fear, it is not anger. It might be rage.
He knows he is thirsty for blood.
***
Sometimes, while his mom is away working and the rest of his family find themselves something to do, Will sits in the halls to look at the stars. For some reason, his parents find it in themselves to send Penny to school and not him. He thinks they expect him to go on his own. Instead, he reaches for Robot and cries when he can’t find him. And watches.
Eventually, Ben finds him. Most days, the man doesn’t do or say anything, just stands close enough for Will to notice him but far enough not to intrude, and waits. The boy chooses to leave when the memories and wishes grow too heavy, whispering a goodbye to the lights and walking away, Ben by his side, back home.
Other times, Ben comes closer, leans on the wall, and talks. He tells Will of his wife and his sons, of what Scarecrow was like at first, all those years ago. Will never says anything, but he listens; eagerly, even. Pictures the lab and the gentleness in the copper robot Adler speaks of. Sees, in his head, the boys playing in the park and their father, unsatisfied and so guilty, dreaming of space.
At night, before he sleeps and dreams of death, Will remembers being a small child, always with his eyes to the sky.
***
Finding Robot is the best thing that has ever happened to him. He is the happiest he has been all year, smiling and laughing and never pretending it's genuine. He feels whole, like he hasn’t been since they separated. Since Will betrayed his friend.
Now he will make it up to him, for the rest of his life. He will be worthy of Robot.
Always to the side, close but never too close, Ben watches them with sharp eyes. Almost like his mom used to watch them, or like Judy still does. Only there is little fear, and more wonder. And, maybe, a bit of resentment. Will tries really hard not to see it, not to think about it.
He is proud of Robot’s drawings, of his kindness and heart and everything that makes him great. Will shares a glance with Adler as Robot grieves and sees the shock, maybe even regret.
Will doesn’t say it, but believes Ben should be sorry. Will would never put Robot in a box.
***
One of the many times Ben takes him to Scarecrow’s room, which is little more than four walls and dimmed lights, Will sees something he shouldn’t. It’s fast, and sudden, and it takes a while to sink in.
It’s one of the days Scarecrow’s too tired to do much other than glower, and both Adler and he know it’s not gonna get them anywhere, whatever they try. He’d rather let the robot rest anyway, he can’t imagine how tired he always is. His lights speak of a lot of pain.
Ben takes the chance, they are already there, after all. Usually, he teaches Will of robotics, engineering, physics. Everything he’s learned since meeting ‘Crow. He loves it, loves the learning and the talks, even the company.
Will is taking some notes when Ben stands, searching for a tablet, and leans over. The man’s shirt rises just a little, almost nothing, but it’s enough for the scars to show. There’s many, one right next to the other, like bursting stars. Will’s hand reaches for his own scar, high on his arm. There is almost no clear skin on what little of Adler’s back Will can see, and he remembers the look in the man’s eyes when he first saw the boy’s scar.
The moment passes quickly, and Will doesn’t say anything about it the rest of the day. Or the next, or the next. And then it is too late and there is no one to say anything to.
***
When Adler tells them to all go in together, and have Robot enter the Resolute by their side, that same knowing he sometimes has, tells him Ben has just done something big. He doesn’t know what it is, and doesn't think he would like to find out. Still, it feels almost like a victory. Like, maybe, they can be alike after all.
***
Ben’s voice calls him a traitor for everyone to hear. A criminal. To be hunted.
It hurts more than he is willing to admit, that voice. He thought they were friends, or starting to be. That, maybe, they weren’t so different after all. That they could fix things, with Scarecrow and the Resolute and everything else.
Turns out he was wrong.
***
At night, he dreams of killing his own people. He sees them fall, sees them burn. The part of him that is Will Robinson remembers the bursting stars that will be left on his skin. The other part, that is the old Robot, is all glee.
When mornings come, sweat covers him whole and his hands shake. The old rage is long gone, it was Robot’s, he knows. Now there is something else, something like vindication. He dreams of murdering his own people and it feels like justice.
When he doubles over the toilet bowl, he fears the feelings are his own.
***
Will can’t help but feel lonely when they are all gathered in the hub, planning or eating or talking. He loves his family with all his heart. He is not like them. The boy has always known it, and it stopped paining him a long time ago.
Finding someone who isn’t as different opens up the wound, though.
***
Ben Adler wakes shaking too. There is fire in his dreams, and pain, and bursting stars. They cover him whole, swallow him up.
He feels no rage, no victory. All there is to his sweating frame both in dreams and wakefulness is regret. Sorrow. And resentment. For the betrayal. Scarecrow’s, Hastings’, his own. He never knows.
***
Convincing Ben to help him is both the easiest and hardest thing he has ever done.
It forces him to sacrifice Robot, and makes him want to die. He swore to be a better friend. And swears to save his companion now, after they have saved Scarecrow.
Ben holds him back, holds Crow’s hand, helps him tie the robot down. And he is so gentle every time, like a friend. The way it should have been from the start.
Will looks into Adler’s eyes and sees fear, of what comes next, of what Hastings will do, of himself.
He thinks they might be the same after all.
***
Lighting makes him shake from then on, the very thought of it, of sand. Death seems to follow him wherever he goes.
***
Will makes his way back to the Resolute with tears in his eyes. He speaks of Ben’s death, of them saving Scarecrow, of everything Hastings’ has caused. No one ever seems to listen to him.
His sisters blink and nod and are as supportive as they can be. They never met Ben, barely spent time with Crow, hate Hastings for their own reasons. His words and grief tell them nothing.
He realizes his family doesn’t know. Not about how often he was with Ben, or how he was the only other human Will knew who had a connection with a Robot. They don’t know of Adler’s words as they met and as he died.
His promises, that sameness, are for Will to bear alone.
***
During that year they spend on their own, the nightmares change. He no longer dreams of Robot’s kills, but his own. Sees Ben Adler sacrifice himself over and over, sees him be covered by lighting and sand. Hears the strike, and the fire, and feels the fight grow back into Scarecrow’s core.
When he wakes there is no rage, no glee. Only regret. And as the others go with the motions and worry for themselves, resentment grows.
***
He thinks he understands it now, how a man so good can become so twisted. Will lies all the time, pretends to be the same as darkness festers, makes deals with Smith and sometimes, he even hopes for Hastings’... something. He doesn’t know if he wants the man dead, he does know he wants something to happen to him.
Will wants him to pay.
Sometimes he thinks Hastings might have been right all those months ago. He thinks he might be more loyal to the robots than to humans. After all, he’s willing to give SAR a chance. Hastings doesn’t get that privilege.
***
The robot city hidden beneath the surface is the greatest discovery he has ever made. Maybe, that humankind has ever made. The others don’t seem to understand it, not like he does. Penny lets him explore, and Robot nods along, but no one else is buzzing with excitement and anxiety and fear and want.
Will Robinson is an explorer, he discovers and unearths and documents. It’s in his blood.
As he makes his way through the caves, he can’t help but wonder what Ben would think of it. If he would have brought his own notes and desires and dreams. The ones the man had shared with Will in a better time.
It is both bitter and sweet to know Ben Adler will never see this place.
Will misses him, he thinks they were the same. Will still hasn’t forgiven him, not completely, and knows that, if he were still alive, trusting him would be stupid.
***
There is lighting.
Death in blue strikes over a darkened sky.
Will Robinson is dying.
Robot carries him in his arms as he once carried Scarecrow, as Ben once dragged his companion. It seems human and robot cannot bond without it coming to this. Death and light.
At least there is no sand.
He finds it difficult to think, to see. But he can feel, and in his chest there is more than Robot and their shared consciousness. Around that ring everything heightens, he feels thousands upon thousands of signatures and wonders if they will welcome him, wherever they go after lightning strikes.
In the masses, two of them feel familiar.
Red, copper, rage and sand.
Gentleness, regret, resentment, and lightning.
He smiles as Robot sets him down and thinks, Wait, I’m coming.
***
The kids look nothing like he imagined they would.
He struggles to see Ben in them. Instead, he sees him in the man’s wife. In her eyes.
Will realizes he isn’t looking for a nose or a smile, but sadness.
When they leave he lets himself cry for the first time all year.
***
He rises from his bed, both while in the hospital and after, almost every night. After waking from a nightmare. Will walks to his mirror, takes off his shirt, and stares at himself.
The skin on his body, once plain and smooth, is rough and calloused. Scarred. His chest has one large line right at its center, and a much uglier mark to the side, where SAR’s blade broke through skin, bone and muscle. Twice.
And his star, bursting, right on his arm like it’s always been.
He remembers the skin on Ben’s back, glanced at so long ago. Will remembers and wonders if Ben stared at himself like he does now.
***
The family moves on. So he does too.
Will gets on the first ship he finds and flies off, Robot at his side.
Together they discover, unearth and document.
Planet after planet, system after system, galaxy after galaxy. They make friends, they run for their lives, they live. It is beautiful, and exciting and everything Will always wanted and struggled to find.
On bad nights, Robot thinks about Scarecrow and aches. He misses his family, his friend. Wishes they could have saved him. Maybe brought him along. Helped him find a home.
On bad days, Will thinks of Ben Adler. He likes to believe he has managed to forgive the man, instead being swallowed by pity and sadness and crushed hopes. Maybe, if things had been different, they would work together now. Maybe, Ben would be in prison like Hastings and Will would visit. Maybe everything would be the same.
Neither Robot nor his boy ever have any answers. Just wishes.
***
Whenever he is planetside, the Adlers ask him over for dinner.
No matter how much he may not want to go, Will always shows up. The boys are growing up, no longer the little things in Ben’s stories, nor the ones who visited him in the hospital so long ago. Neither of them want to be scientists, and he can’t help but be relieved.
The smile on Anna’s face says she is too.
Ben’s pain, his mistakes, all of it, ends with him.
After the kids go for the day, Will stays with Anna to clean the dishes, put away the food, and talk. They share memories of Ben, and stories of what happens in their lives now. It’s like a friendship, if an ever-weighted-down one; by memories and grief.
“You remind me so much of him”, she says, and neither of them ever know if she means it as a good thing.
***
Eventually, Robot and he leave their ship grounded for a while. They order and reorder their discoveries and records, they work on labs and Intelligence and meet with important people who think important thoughts and make important decisions.
It is the Governor who, after one of those meetings, gives him a key.
To Ben’s office, and his lab. Which had been closed and sealed for years. Will doesn’t know what to do with it.
Throw it, burn it, bury it, frame it.
In the end he does neither and goes to bed.
***
It is during a weekly family dinner that he brings it up.
It’s late, all the food eaten, and they are just letting themselves talk about anything and everything. Will, for his part, indulged in one too many cups of wine. He feels the light blush on his cheeks, the fond annoyance glowing in Robot’s chest, the amusement in Penny’s eyes.
It’s hardly the first time, for him or anyone else in their family. It’s not like he’s properly drunk anyway. Only loosened, just enough, it seems, to open his mouth.
“They gave me the key to Ben’s work.”
All light chatter floating over the little room shuts down in a second, his sisters, his parents, Don and Robot turning to him. He’s slouching on the couch, a glass of water Judy had brought him in his hand, the other clenching and unclenching over his jittery knee.
“Oh?”, his mom asks, eyes narrowed. She’s smiling, would even seem calm, if not for those eyes. She’s always been sharp, his mom.
“Mhm”, Will sighs, taking a sip, “the Governor. Guess she decided if anyone could figure out what to do with all of it…”
Judy tries really hard to smile at him. “Well, that’s good, right? That she trusts you with Ben’s work.”
“I think she’s hoping I’ll destroy it.”
The smile drops dead.
They all stare at him. Will is never this blunt with them, not even when he should be. He disguises and smiles and pretends, has done so since he was thirteen. Wine still fresh in his belly changes that now.
“Why?”, Don is the only one who dares ask. And he goes for more scotch while he’s at it.
Will shrugs, taking one long gulp of water.
“Why wouldn’t she? It’s what I would hope for, in her shoes. All those files and notes and records… they’re proof. Of Scarecrow’s pain, and Hastings’ corruption, and the lies. All the lies.”
His eyes dart from one face to another, Robot, his sisters, his mom, his dad, Don taking a drink. They seem… reluctant, as they meet his gaze. He has enough presence of mind to wonder if it’s because they’re scared he’ll start crying, or have some other kind of breakdown. If they’re right.
What they would say if he told them Ben is standing right behind them, by the hall. That, every once in a while, Will goes through life seeing ghosts and never knowing if he’s imagining them or not.
His dad sighs, leaning forward and drawing him away from the dead.
“And you? What do you want to do with it?”
“I have no idea”, Will smiles a bitter thing, “but I can’t destroy it. It’s…”, the ghost smiles from the hall, almost sorry. “It’s Ben.”
The ghost always smiles at him when he is haunting the boy. Or once-boy. Will is more man than not, really. Fully grown. And he cowers from Ben Adler like he never did as a child.
“There’s a lot we don’t know, isn’t there?” Penny stands from her chair, gently walking to the couch and falling beside him, “I spent years asking myself why you care so much about him and the Adlers. But there’s no way I’m figuring it out, because there’s a lot I don’t know. That none of us know.”
Not on purpose, but yes. The lies. Hastings’, Adler’s, Robinson’s.
“You could write a hundred more books with all of it.” She smiles back when he finds humor in his own poor joke. “You want to hear something horrible?”
“Why not?”
He’s right here, he considers saying. Chooses against. Goes for a different kind of horrible truth.
“I miss him all the time. And I’m sorry all the time. But every once in a while, I really, really, wish I’d never met him. Sometimes I think I’m glad he’s dead.” Penny oozes concern, and Don stops drinking to look at him, and nobody moves a single muscle. Even Robot seems to stop breathing, if he could breathe. “And then his sons ask me over for dinner.”
In the hall, the ghost hangs his head and walks away. Will is grateful.
“I don’t know why I always have to be the one carrying him.”
When he stands for another drink, it’s wine. Judy doesn’t say anything.
***
When they are on the Resolute, Will sees how Ben glares at Hastings from the side, sometimes. Whenever their conversations get to the man and he hesitates, questions, even refuses to hurt Scarecrow. Will doesn’t think Hastings ever notices, or cares.
During Hastings’ trial, Will glares at him from the corner of his eyes every day. Whenever they speak of the Resolute and Scarecrow and Robot and himself. Will sits in a suit and tie and glares. He knows Hastings notices and doesn’t care.
When Hastings is taken away in handcuffs, he passes by the Robinsons and Will glares at him openly. Hastings looks away.
It feels like justice.
***
The youngest Adler graduates with a law degree on a warm summer morning.
Will stands beside Anna and the middle Adler, wide smile on his face and pride in his chest. Robot chose not to come, still uneasy about large human crowds, though he will be there when they gather at the Adler’s house to celebrate.
Will thinks his own family may even show, now that they have been trying to understand all of this better. The relationships built after death and misery and pain. That Will is considered an honorary Adler and, to this day, tells the boys stories of their father. That he is the only one Anna can bring her not so charitable thoughts to, when it comes to her deceased husband.
Under the sunlight, Will claps and hollers when Stephen walks on the stage to get his diploma, proud tears gathering in his eyes. He doesn’t even bother pretending they aren’t there. He has seen that boy go from eight and heartbroken to the lawyer in training he is now, proud and wise and so much like Ben. Just… better. Happier.
When Alan, the boy’s brother whistles, Will joins and Anna laughs.
It’s the happiest the Adlers have been in a long time. Not even Ben’s ghost standing with them could stain that bright, warm morning.
***
After weeks of staring at that key, Will picks it up and opens Ben’s office.
He rifles through the drawers and desk and papers, sometimes stopping in a euphoric fuge at a great discovery, other times running to the bathroom in sick horror. Will understands, in a way Ben never did, what is jotted down in those papers. Torture. Unimaginable cruelty.
If he closes his eyes, he can feel it in his own body.
Once he has separated all the horror from the marvel he buys a safe box and locks it away. He won’t destroy it, won’t hide the corruption and lies that built this planet, their society. He also won’t allow anyone to use it.
Ben’s work is his burden, some to continue, some to condemn, all to guard.
When he makes it back home he holds Robot tight and sobs.
***
During one of his many trips, Will and Robot find another desert planet -one of many- and land to explore. It reminds him, painfully, of the Amber Planet of his childhood. They have seen so many places, done so many things, and yet the past doesn’t seem willing to release them. Not even now, years later.
They find a canyon, bright red instead of orange, and follow the blazing light like moths to a flame. The geologist in his head is already theorizing about minerals.
It’s when Robot moves forward to analyze any possible dangers that something makes Will look over his shoulder. He moves slowly, already knowing what he’ll find and not sure he wants to see it.
With a sigh, Will turns, meeting Ben’s eyes head on. The man is smiling at him, also drawn to the red rock and sand. It must be nostalgic, if ghosts are ever fond of their dying place. For Will there is just a fist around his throat squeezing tighter and tighter the longer he looks. Ben doesn’t seem that bothered.
For the first time in years, Will dares to open his mouth and talk to the dead.
“What do you want?”
Ben’s smile falls, still silent as ever.
“You always show up, why?”
Was it because Ben had nothing better to do? Because he missed his former protegé? Because Will had been going steadily insane?
Even though the ghost says nothing, Will understands anyway.
Because you keep calling.
***
At night, shortly after coming home from work, both Will and Robot lock themselves in their rooms. They are exhausted, a bit grumpy, and in need of some privacy. For Robot, that means painting. For Will, it would usually mean sleeping.
This time, he stands in front of the mirror like he used to after his surgery, only it isn’t his body he examines. Instead, he remembers Ben’s face, and looks at his own. His left hand, shaking, rises to cover half of him.
In his head, Will replaces that half with Adler’s, and compares the two. The similarities; the bridge of their noses, the circles under their eyes, the intelligent spark, the haunted draw of their cheekbones. The differences; Will’s smile is kinder, Ben’s eyes were sadder, Will’s cheeks are pink and alive. Ben is cold.
He asks the mirror if Ben knew they would look a little alike when Will grew older. If the man suspected they could pass as family. If he would have liked it. The young man does, sometimes, when he is out with the Adlers and no one questions him being there, even if his hair is light and theirs are dark.
Other times, he hates it. Like now.
***
Sweat pooling on his brow, Will locks that safebox forever.
The rest of Ben’s work, the good in Ben’s work, become the bones of something bigger than either of them.
Will Robinson knows then what he will do with the rest of his life.
That night, the ghost stands at the foot of his bed with a smile wider than ever before, wider than it was in life, and reaches out to shake Will’s hand. For once, the younger man doesn’t run from the dead and complies.
He never sees Ben again after that.
***
When Will turns thirty four, Penny releases a new book. It’s deemed as half fiction by her editor and, just like all the others, an immediate success. The words, sweet and gentle and warm just like she is, bring to people’s hearts the story of a boy and a ghost who save the world from its own mistakes.
He hears his coworkers theorize who the pages are actually about, since in a half of fiction hides a half of truth. He shares mischievous smiles with her and they never tell the public, not for the rest of their lives. There are things not meant to be known, but kept safe in a locked box.
Anna cries when she reads it, sharing a glass of wine with him on the porch. The boys buy it, like they buy all of Penny’s books, but take years to read this one, and when they do they hold Will tight and he knows they hope their father feels their arms too, wherever he is.
Trinkets grow on the shelves covering the old office, the door now decreeing a newer name. Dr. William Robinson. No, not that kind of doctor, Judy always delights in telling whoever she introduces him to. Their parents simply say over and over that, in whatever way, they raised two Doctor Robinsons.
He works closely with Robot and the memory of Ben Adler to help the robots understand themselves, their culture, their cities. To help them rebuild what they want to hold onto and reassure them they are allowed to forget the rest. To let go.
At night, when he wakes from the nightmares that will never leave him but no longer burn him as they did, he sits on his bed and reads the book over and over.
During the days, when he spends time with the Adlers, or with the Robinsons, or in space, he is happy. Never alone. No longer haunted, but in company.
Will sees Ben Adler in his smile and is glad they were the same, once.