Chapter Text
Log Entry
Mission Day: 688
Finally rescued. Something that I had waited eighteen months for, something that occasionally I wasn’t sure was going to happen. Mars threw so much shit at me, testing every mental and physical limit I have and a few I was unaware of. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t die there.
Now, my Wikipedia page will say something like, “Mark Watney of NASA survived 549 Sols on Mars.” I sorta wish it wouldn’t say that. I wish it could say that I was part of a successful Mars exploratory mission with the rest of my crew. No one wants anything to go wrong on purpose and I am included in that group. In one of the emails I got while still on Mars, someone referred to me a true American Hero. A man who was able to survive the unthinkable.
I don’t feel much like a hero. I was in a bad situation and did what I need to do to survive. Besides, don’t heroes die for their cause?
Maybe I’d make a good motivational poster. A picture of me with the text “At Least This Isn’t Mars.” That sounds better than being a hero.
Laying in Beck’s cot, Mark stared at the starkly white ceiling above him as he waited for the pain medication to kick in to allow him a better range of motion with his cracked ribs. Beck told him to shower as soon as he could but the combination of medication, the bed and knowing that he wasn’t on Mars caused Mark to quickly fall asleep. He slept for almost thirteen hours before naturally rousing himself from slumber.
Sitting up on the cot, Mark winced and held his chest. Somehow a couple of busted ribs was more painful than the other injuries he sustained on Mars. Save for being impaled by the antenna fragment. No one was around and frankly, Mark was thankful for it. Despite having been alone for so long, a little bit of privacy still went a long way. Especially now. He wasn’t the same person that launched into space with the rest of the crew all those months ago. His wit was the same but he was different.
The first indication of so was when Beck was helping him out of his spacesuit to get the x-rays of his chest. Chris had the same look on his face when he had removed his helmet but it wasn’t because of the smell (something that he grown used to at this point). It was the state of Mark’s body. Malnourished and emaciated, despite having access to the vitamins his body still took longer to repair and heal bruises and cuts that Mark had received. Beck’s face showed shock but mostly concern.
“Rations.” Mark quickly spoke up. “What are you gunna do?” His question had been rhetorical. Beck nodded silently before helping Mark to his feet and across the room to get the pictures of his chest. After settling on the table, Watney looked to the Doctor. “Don’t… tell anyone. At least not right away.” Mark wouldn’t be able to hide the state of his physical condition from the crew for long but at the moment he didn’t want to worry his friends any more than they already were.
With his own robe wrapped around his frame, Mark treaded carefully through the personal quarters. The rest of the crew had woken long before him and were off engaged in their daily schedules. Watney was ready to get back to work but knew he had to take care of himself first. A task that Commander Lewis would insist is far more important that his Botany experiments.
Making it to the showers, Mark turned the water on first to warm up before he disrobed and stepped into the stall. Save for the hot bathes that he had created for himself to sooth his back while on Mars, he hadn’t the chance to shower for a year and half. The original plan was only to be on Mars for thirty days, use some deodorant, dry shampoo and then shower once back on Hermes. The lack of showering caused other issues, also not having clean clothes but those problems were trivial compared to staying alive.
Each crew member was allotted a ten minute window to showering each day. With six total people it was an hour of showering a day. Although with his injured chest preventing quick moment, his body generally protesting against him and having over a year’s worth of Mars dirt stuck to him, Mark took the liberty of taking longer than ten minutes. He used Martinez, Vogel and Beck’s ten minutes as well. The three of them could manage a day without a shower. Mark had earned the forty minute shower.
His spirits felt lifted already. Removing the feeling of Mars from his skin was the first step in getting back home. They had 210 days left and each passing one he would be closer to stepping foot on Earth for the first time in over three years. Stepping into the common space, he looked at himself in the mirror. His skin pulled gauntly over his skeleton. He showed his teeth, he had run out of toothpaste long before a rescue had even been devised. He was more upset at the poor state of his teeth than he realized he would be. It wasn’t something he paid attention to while on Mars but now it was an obvious problem. One that would have to wait the seven month trip home to be taken care of.
Hermes had medical supplies and items for possible dental injuries but it wasn’t an entire dentist’s office. There was nothing to fill cavities or repair chipped teeth. Only medicine to keep the pain at bay until the ship returned home. At least there was toothpaste and Mark could prevent the damaged enamel from getting any worse. The first time he brushed his gums bleed but it felt better than before.
There was nothing for his broken ribs other than more pain medication. It was better than the analgesics in the Hab. Beck had access to long-lasting anesthesia to inject around the nerves to dull the pain in Mark’s chest. Although sudden movements, bending wrong and lifting his arms too high above his head still hurt like a bitch.
With the crew’s quarters still abandoned, Mark made his way to his personal bunk. It hadn’t been touched. Everything was right where he had left it when everyone departed from Hermes in the MDV. Walking over to his desk he opened a drawer and pulled out his personal data stick. The one he had forgotten. He had been pulled aside by Vogel to be updated on his chemistry experiments one last time before they headed to Mars. The pair had gotten distracted and lost track of time and Mark barely had enough minutes to spare to get ready to leave. He realized once they were setting up their bunks in the Hab that he had forgotten it. Originally it wasn’t a problem but that was when he thought he was only going to be without his own entertainment for thirty days. Not eighteen months.
Mark was looking forward to watching Doctor Who, Battlestar Galactica (the 2000 remake not the one from 1970’s) and listening to his own music. Rush, The Smiths, They Might be Giants and Ratatat. Also reading his own books. Great science fiction authors of Terry Pratchett, Philip K Dick, Douglas Adams and Heinlein Clarke. Returning the thumb drive to the drawer he got dressed. His once custom fitted clothes no longer fit, they hung off his shoulders and arms and he had to really cinch the bands in the sweatpants to keep them on his hips. Despite the ill fit, the clean clothes felt better than the soiled clothes he had been wearing.
Carefully sitting on the edge of his own bunk, Mark reached to the drawer adjacent to the bed and pulled out a family picture. A photo taken at his away party, it had been a huge shindig. Held at the local banquet hall most of Mark’s family attended and people from the neighborhood stopped by to wish him luck. So many people had made an appearance, so many people he didn’t know personally but they knew him. They were all part of the reason that he worked so hard to survive.
The picture was of him with his parents. They all looked so happy, even his mother, despite the fact that she had been crying off and on the entire day. Always repeating how much she was going to miss her only son. She was proud but being the caring mother she is, she was only expressing her love. His father had been so excited, boasting to everyone he met that his son was going to Mars. Mark tried to get his father to tone it down (it’s not like he was the first person on Mars, he was the seventeenth). No matter what Mark tried his father would go up to people on the street, in the supermarket, elated. “Did you know that my son is going to Mars?”
Mark couldn’t wait to see them again. Out of everything he missed on Earth, his parents were the two people he missed the most.
A knock at his open door brought him out of the memory of the going away party. Commander Lewis stood quietly, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
“Commander.” Mark started to stand but Lewis quickly stepped into his quarters and had him remain seated, he did as he was told.
“How… are you feeling?” She asked, the question seemed loaded even though it was a natural one to ask.
Mark took a moment to answer. “Better now.” His answer seemed to satisfy Lewis. He saw her relax, relieved that the answer was short and not a long winded confession about his mental and physical state. Watney knew how busy Lewis was and she already blamed herself for leaving him behind, he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was adding to her guilt.
“What do you need from us?” Melissa’s voice was professional, like always. Even when the crew got a beer on a Friday night she still had that command aspect in her words.
“Something to eat.” Mark responded quickly, rather unable to stop thinking about getting to consume something that wasn’t potatoes or vitamins.
Lewis nodded. “Of course, I probably didn’t even need to ask. I’ll go get you a meal and bring it back –“
“No, no,” Mark cut her off. “I can go to the mess hall to eat.” She stared down at him and he almost shrunk away at her glare. “Or, I can eat it here. That seems fine. Dinner in bed.”
“What would you like?”
“Literally, anything.”
The Commander smiled and nodded, she turned to leave but stopped to look back at her long missing crew member. Lewis reached out and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back. We’ve missed you.”
Mark’s lips twitched into a smile. “Good to be back. But I bet I missed you guys more than you missed me.” Lewis smiled in return and started to leave. “Also,” He called after her, “Why is it so damn hot in here?” Mark asked as he pulled at his shirt collar from the heat in the room. “Did you break my ship while I was gone?” He could hear Lewis’ chuckle grow quieter as she moved away from his room. Mark smiled, unbelievably thankful that he was part of a crew so dedicated to each other.