Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 689 (1)

I can’t get to sleep. Not that I couldn’t but I’m just not tired. The rest of the crew went to bed hours ago, they are operating off of Earth time. I’m still on Standard Martian time. I wonder how long it takes to get over Mars Lag.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 689 (2)

Why doesn’t pi end? I mean, I understand that it is an irrational number and goes on forever and literally doesn’t have an end but why doesn’t somebody just say this is where pi ends? There is no surprise, it is just gunna be another random integer. Pi, you greedy little shit of a number.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 689 (3)

Uuuugggghhhhhhhhh.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 689 (4)

Okay, fuck this and fuck pi. I’m going to go find something to eat.

 Hermes was quiet save for the ambient noises of beeping, circulating air and machinery humming. It sounded a lot like the Hab did and it was oddly comforting. Mark shuffled from the crew’s quarters, enjoying the temperature change. His room was sweltering but the high heat wasn’t something that bothered him much. It wasn’t as bad as driving around with an RTG in a small enclosed space.

Rather thankful that he didn’t have to leave the artificial gravity to get to the mess hall and Rec, Mark turned and stared at the empty room. The cabinets were stocked full of rations, on top of the ones that Hermes still had on the way home. There were food packs everywhere. A sight that almost brought a tear to Mark’s eye. No more minimal calorie intake and more important, no more potatoes. Sifting through the disposable foil packs, he grabbed some trail mix, not wanting to make an entire meal.

Mark had eaten two and half meal packs yesterday when Lewis had brought him something to eat. He tried to finish the third but he reached the point where he literally could not get another bite down without feeling the need to vomit. He made it eighteen months on Mars without getting sick and he wasn’t about to throw up his second day on Hermes.

Watney moved to the next white cabinet door and pulled out a grape juice after deliberating what to drink. Having something other than water for the first time in about a year was incredibly refreshing.

With his back turned to the entrance of the Rec, Mark was unaware that Martinez had joined him. “Mark, what are you…” Rick stopped midsentence when he saw Mark visibly jump. Startled, Watney dropped the closed food and drink to the ground and whipped around to look at the pilot.

“Jesus, Martinez.” Mark breathed, shaking his head. His heart raced in his chest.

Martinez stared for a moment. “Are you okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized as he crossed the space towards his crew mate.

“Yeah, I’m good. You’re fine. Just, uh, not used to other people being around.” Mark admitted with a bit of a shrug and a lopsided smile. He had meant for the answer to be lighthearted but Mark could tell the remark make Martinez uncomfortable. It was a difficult situation. There was no way to ignore the fact that Mark had been left behind on Mars, it was a glaring issue but it was one that everyone wanted to ignore. That however was impossible. “Should have you guys wear bells or something.” Mark continued, hoping to bring ease back into their conversation. His comment caused Rick to grin and Watney returned the gesture.

Looking to the dropped items Mark carefully bent over to pick them up, being mindful of his aching ribs. “Let me get those for you, man.” Martinez chimed in and reached for the drink. Mark was going to protest that he could handle picking up two things from the ground but Martinez moved faster than he did and had the food in his hands before Mark could even get close to reaching.

“Thanks.” He took the trail mix and beverage before turning to take a seat. “What are you doing awake?” Mark finally asked.

“It was time to get up. It’s almost six in the morning.” The Hermes operated off of Coordinated Universal Time. There were several clocks on board. One with UTC, another for the current time at Cape Canaveral, another for Houston and the last for JPL. Although, all of the employees at the respective locations went with UTC for the ease of the crew members, but it was still nice to know the current times.

“Oh, didn’t realize how early it was.” Mark said as he ripped the top of the foil pack off and dumped some of the mix into his hand.

“I was going to ask why you were awake, actually.” Martinez leaned over and stole a peanut from Watney’s open hand, popping it into his mouth. The action received a narrowed look from Mark but Rick just smirked.

After washing down the mix of salty and sweet with the juice, Mark shrugged. “Not tired. Probably pass out some time later. Gotta adjust back to the mission schedule.” Normally, Mark would pick out the raisins from the trail mix and let Johanssen eat them but this time he consumed every piece. Silence hung in the air longer than either of the men would have preferred. Normally the pair wouldn’t be able to shut up but now it seemed awkward. “You can ask me anything you wanna know, by the way.” Mark spoke up after finishing off his grape juice. “I mean, I may or may not have an answer for you but feel free.”

Mark’s dynamic with the rest of the crew had been thrown off kilter. It seemed that none of them were sure how to act around him anymore. He wanted them to be normal so that he could return to a normal life. The pilot stared at the botanist, he had plenty of questions but wasn’t sure how to ask them.

“How do you feel knowing that you,” Rick paused, his eyes searching his friend’s face. “…have probably broken the world record for the number of potatoes consumed?”

They both broke out into laughter. “Feels like it should be a boy scout patch I should get to wear on my space suit.” Mark answered.

Their laughter continued, only to be interrupted by the Commander. She was smiling as she watched the men interact. “I see that you boys still are unable to behave around one another.” They grinned. “Mark,” She started. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Mark’s smile faded. “Sorry, Mom, didn’t know I was in confinement.”

“You aren’t, I just don’t want you to over exert yourself.”

“I think I can handle walking from my quarters to the Rec, Commander.” Mark stated, a hint of annoyance simmered under his skin. Rick glanced between the two, they both had a hardened look on their faces.

Standing, Rick clapped his hands together. “Well, the ship isn’t going to fly itself. Oh wait, yes it is. Still, going to go check on things.” He turned but stopped to look back at Mark. “Gunna need to catch up with you soon buddy. Have to tell you how awful the Cubs did.” Martinez excused himself to busy himself with his day’s duties.

Mark turned his attention back to Melissa. “I know my limits, Commander.”

She nodded. “I know you do, but you aren’t on Mars anymore and you are back under my command and I would appreciate it if you listened to me. I still have to get you home safely. We have seven months of travel in a ship that has been compromised.”

“I told you not to blow the VAL.”

Lewis pressed her lips into a line. “I’m still the Commander and it was my choice. It was the better move to save you.” She paused, letting out a sigh that released the tension in her shoulders.  “I need you to get better because you are still the ship’s engineer and we have an assortment of problems that need to be dealt with and I need you to help take care of them.” She admitted. It was then Mark noticed what looked to be sadness in her eyes behind the hardness of her commanding appearance.

Watney went quiet and he looked away from Lewis. “Okay.” He stood from the table and stopped in front of the Commander. “I’ll do what you ask to recover as you see fit but, please, do not micromanage me.”

“Fair enough. Go see Beck today, I know he has a lot to go over with you. When that’s done you can do what you want. That doesn’t involve working.” She finished with a smile.

Mark turned his head slightly from her, giving her a sideway glance. “Fine. You’re not going to be able to keep me from helping for too long though.” He informed her as he moved to leave the Rec. “I mostly kicked Mars’ ass, I should be able to handle the problems Hermes has to offer.”

Walking through the halls, Mark walked past Johanssen. He smiled at her and she barely smiled back then promptly busied herself into the tablet she was carrying, keeping her nose down to him as they walked by. Mark turned to watch her but thought nothing of it as he carried on. She was always a strange one. Watney found the Doctor in his quarters. He knocked on the door frame. “Morning, Beck.” Watney spoke up as Chris turned to face him.

“Mark, good to see you up.” He said with a wave to beckon him in the room. He patted the edge of his cot, silently informing him to take a seat.

“The Commander might disagree with you.” Mark stated as he minded his ribs while he sat down.

Beck shot him a curious glance but said nothing as he prepped the materials he needed for the exam. Setting down a tray on the table, Beck picked up his stethoscope first. He warmed the diaphragm before pressing it to Mark’s chest. Watney blinked, watching Beck listen intently to his insides. “Heart sounds fine, beating still a little slow but that’s okay. We’ll just keep an eye on it.” Chris moved to put the stethoscope on Mark’s back. “Take as deep a breath as possible.” Mark complied, breathing in as much as he could stand before his ribs protested the expansion of his lungs. “Probably didn’t even need a chest x-ray to confirm having broken ribs, I can hear them in there.” Chris said as he slung the stethoscope around his neck.

“Oh good.” Mark grimaced, bringing his hand to his chest. “Zero out of ten do not recommend traveling at twelve g’s.”

Beck smirked. “Noted.” He said quickly before moving on.  “Make sure that you take as deep of breaths as possible, broken ribs obviously prevent that from happening which could possibly lead to pneumonia, put your state of malnutrition on top of that you’re looking at a very real chance of that happening.” Beck went on to explain how the complications would lead to even more problems and what they could do to prevent that from happening. Mark stared at him, listening to the words come out of his mouth but he wasn’t comprehending them all. Not that he didn’t understand what Beck was going on about, it was basic preventative practice. He just hadn’t been talked to for so long he sort of just enjoyed listening to another human being speak.

“Roger that, Doctor.” Mark finally spoke up, affirming that he understood everything he had been told. They would watch his breathing, keep him on pain killers to alleviate the pain for the first few days and start antibiotics if necessary.

Grabbing a chair, Beck sat down across from Mark with a tablet. “I, um, I hate to do this but as your doctor for the time being and to make sure your medical record stays detailed, I need an account of everything noteworthy that happened to you on Mars.”

Watney blinked lazily and then squinted. “No, it’s fine. I understand, makes sense. Where to start…” Mark clicked his tongue a few times. “Well, obviously the beginning, I got impaled by an antenna fragment in my abdomen. Pulled it out, gave myself some stitches and was on antibiotics for a few weeks.”

“Can I see where?” Beck asked idly, his voice professional as if he was trying to detach his personal connection from Mark. Not that embarrassed, Mark pulled up his shirt. There was a white scar from his poor suturing skills. Chris nodded once and made a few notes. He looked up, silently prompting Mark to continue. The Botanist went on from there, going into detail when Chris asked and stopping to allow him to keep up with his typing. There were a few times that Beck would stare at Mark incredulously, such as when he explained how he blew himself up or was in the airlock when it rocketed him fifty meters away. The looks continued as Mark detailed how the rover rolled but he managed to not sustain any injuries in the accident. Watney got distracted while accounting his injuries on Mars and didn’t realize that Beck had stopped writing things down. The tablet was pressed to the Doctor’s chest under crossed arms.

Mark stopped talking and stared at Chris. “Do… you need me to go back?” He asked, unsure why Beck had stopped.

“I’m sorry, Mark.” Beck finally spoke up.

Suddenly, Mark’s chest felt tighter than it had just moments ago. This is what he wanted to avoid. His crew mates, his friends, looking at him different for what he went through. Watney could see on Beck’s face the same sadness and anguish that he had seen on Lewis’ earlier. The same look that Johanssen had and she had barely looked at him. The look of guilt.

“Don’t be.” Mark said quickly, trying to rectify the situation. “I’ll be fine, honestly. You just patch me up, tell me what to eat and I’ll be good as new by the time we reach Earth.” He managed a smile but it was forced. Mark knew he was lying, it was going to take longer than seven months to recover from being stranded on Mars for eighteen months. In fact, Mark knew that he would never really get over the whole ordeal and that bothered him. He was going to try his best to get the life back that he had before that sand storm hit and he had to get himself healthy first. His physical appearance did nothing in his favor. It was a blaring reminder of how close he came to dying on Mars. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah, we can be. Take it easy, watch the ribs and don’t hold back on getting calories in you.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice to eat something.” Mark said as he stood up from the cot. He stopped, Beck still watched him. “Thank you. For coming back for me.” Watney didn’t allow Chris the chance to respond, he squeezed the Doctor’s shoulder on the way out of his quarters and turned to go get some much needed sleep.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 690

Somehow if feels like time has stopped, now that I’m off Mars that year and half there felt like nothing. Well… not nothing but yeah, it’s only my third day on Hermes and it has seemed like an eternity. If the mission had been successful I would have been home for over a year now, but instead I have seven more months in space. I am really fucking tired of space and NASA and being an astronaut right now. I want to skip forward and be healthy again.

Beck has me on a 2,500 calorie a day diet until I get my weight up. Given we can’t actually take my weight properly since we have no gravity but I started out weighing about one hundred eighty-seven pounds and well, I don’t really wanna think about how much I weigh right now. Might rival Johanssen. NASA literally messages us every few minutes asking for updates. Every time it is the same, status unchanged, not dead, will message if status changes. Then what do they do? They message us again. "Status?" I’m gunna insist that Johanssen turn off the comms, guidance and telemetry be damned. I’m complaining but I feel like I’ve earned the right to whine a bit.

I am just ready to be home. Really could use some Gino’s right now.

Mark spent a majority of the day lounging in his room or in the Rec when the heat in his quarters became too unbearable. Just because it wasn’t as hot as an RTG didn’t mean that he had to suffer in the higher than normal heat. He reluctantly obeyed Commander Lewis’ request that he takes it easy for the first few weeks. They had sat down and discussed when he would be allowed to return to duty. They decided when NASA believed that his physical readings were as close to normal when he left is when he would be allowed to resume his tasks on Hermes. Meaning, he could exercise at the same speed and duration as before, his ribs were completely healed and Beck believed that his weight was in a heathy range. They couldn’t get an actual weight but Beck could take body fat measurements and figure out his weight pretty accurately from that.

Actually, it was more like Lewis telling Mark that they would wait for clearance from NASA to let him work again, more than it was a mutual agreement. But as she stressed several times over, she is his commander and he’s no longer on Mars and he’s got to listen to other people again. Mark knew this, before he was great at following orders. A crew member that would do anything without questioning it. But after spending 549 sols figuring out almost everything by himself and listening to only himself, it proved difficult to accept guidance from others. Mark knew what was best for himself and his choices were obviously good ones. He survived living on Mars alone. (Save for the few times he almost killed himself but who wouldn’t run into some mishaps?)

Now, sitting alone in the Rec, Mark faced one of the large panel windows, watching the ship rotate around the vast star studded space. There was one spot brighter than the rest, Earth. His eyes stayed focused on the distant planet. Finally breaking his attention he turned his gaze to the meal in his lap and took a few bites. Never again would he complain about getting something to eat, no matter what it was.

Vogel slipped into the Rec, spying Watney before the botanist realized that he had company. The chemist cleared his throat to announce himself in the room. Mark looked up to see the German. He had been busy the last two days. They had their reunion when Mark first boarded Hermes but they hadn’t the chance to sit down together yet. “Did you ever watch Star Trek?” Mark asked before taking another bite of chicken and rice.

Alex raised a brow and then nodded. “Ja, I was a fan of the reboot movies more than the older shows, however.”

“I wish we could warp home. ‘Scotty, Warp Factor 8. Let’s get home in about three minutes.’” Mark spoke as he turned his attention back to the window and stared at the speck that was Earth. Vogel didn’t respond right away, instead he watched Mark. He could understand the homesickness that Watney felt on some level, the entire crew of Ares 3 hadn’t been home in a long time but Vogel knew that he would never feel the same profound desire to get back to Earth as Mark did.

“Would you like to see how your experiments are going?” Vogel finally asked.  “We’ve been doing our best to keep them going but alas, there were even some things that we could not grasp. Plants can be tricky.”

Mark turned to look up at Vogel, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, let’s see how well you’ve guys have played botanist.” He finished off his meal, disposing of the garbage in the proper location before following Vogel. The chemist climbed the ladder quickly but Mark had a bit more trouble, he couldn’t reach over his head to grab the next rung. He took his time but soon the gravity lessened and he was able to float in the reduced g’s. They didn’t have far to go, it was a quick turn before going down the access hall to the labs. The gravity quickly returned and Mark winced slightly as he landed on the ground.

“I will admit that there were others who are better at understanding your experiment designs. Beck had little trouble but I assume his biology background came in handy. Johanssen on the other hand,” Vogel smiled before going on, “She wondered why you simply didn’t just play classical music to make the plants grow better.” The chemist laughed, amused at the memory. Mark chuckled with him but it was clearly a situation where someone had to be there to get the full effect of humor.

“Dang, why didn’t I think of that? I’ll have to tell her I might steal her idea.” Mark commented as he walked to his assigned section of the lab space. Under artificial lights there were plenty of plants growing in the reduced gravity. The trip home was supposed to include more tests of plants growing in Mars soil but that obviously didn’t get to happen. Not that Mark didn’t have plenty of data with how successfully plants could grow in Mars soil now. He realized that maybe he should sit down and write everything out that he did specifically before he forgot the details. NASA was going to want a full report of his time on Mars. Mark almost cringed at the idea of having to write out a summary of what could technically be considered eighteen months of work.

Grabbing the lab book from under the table top greenhouse, Mark flipped through the pages. Daily recordings of growth, pH of the soil, bacterial activity, color appearance, turgidity, photosynthesis efficiency and a few dozen other variables for each type of experiment. They had all been carefully logged and included notes for most of the days. It was thorough, probably more complete than if Mark had done it himself. There was certainly enough information there for Mark to be able to pick up the work. Whenever that was going to be.

“Anything interesting happen?” Mark asked as he closed the lab book and replaced it to the proper location.

Vogel shook his head. “No, your plants have behaved.”

“That’s,” Mark flashed a quick amused smile. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, in general. After you guys… left Mars?” The question landed flat, realizing just a moment too late that it would cause some awkwardness to arise. Mark waited for the uneasiness to come but Vogel didn’t let the question bother him, or at least not as visibly as the other crew mates had acted around him.

“No, in fact it was a rather boring trip. It wasn’t until we found out that you were still alive did much activity come back to the ship. Then things really started getting back to normal when we made the decision to turn around to save you. Apparently, you’re awful jokes aren’t that bad after all.” Vogel said sincerely as he looked up from the tablet that he had been skimming over. Mark turned his head and tried his best to keep the smile on his face in check. 

“What do you call a pissed off German?” Mark asked, waiting patiently for Vogel to respond.

The chemist sighed. “What?”

“A sauerkraut.”

Alex didn’t want to laugh but he did, he shook his head as if he was annoyed that he was laughing. “See, awful.”

“I got plenty more where that came from.” Mark was about to continue when Johanssen landed at the bottom of the ladder leading to the labs. She looked surprised when she saw Mark. “Ah, Beth, you’ll appreciate this one,” Mark started but Beth turned and climbed back up the ladder without saying anything. The botanist watched her ascend and then turned his attention to Vogel. “What’s up with her?” He asked but Vogel only shook his head and shrugged.

“I do not know. Perhaps you should find out.” The German offered before pulling up some reference charts on his tablet, effectively ending their conversation.

Reaching the low gravity zone, Mark floated in place. He wasn’t to sure where Johanssen had gone off too but he had an idea. There weren’t too many places that a person could be on Hermes. The labs, personal quarters, bridge, reactor room, cargo hold, airlocks… okay, maybe there a lot of places a person could go. There is a specific spot around the cargo hold that has access to circuitry but also provides a view out of the bottom of the ship that isn’t obscured by another other part of Hermes.

The only problem is that it is through a rather tight fitting access tunnel. Mark would have been able to get through there no problem on a normal day but with his busted ribs the idea of crawling made him dizzy. Entering the simulated gravity, Mark made it to the opening of the access door. “Johanssen?” Mark called out. He knew she was in there, the door wouldn’t have been open if she wasn’t. There was no response. “Beth?” He asked, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a moment she answered. “Yes?” Her voice echoed slightly through the metallic port.

“What’s up?” Mark questioned casually. The two were close, as were the rest of the crew members but Johanssen and Watney shared a bond for the love of Dungeon and Dragons. She was one hell of a Dungeons Master. It took her a little bit to answer again.

“Nothin’, just doing the daily checks.” Mark swore he could hear a sniffle.

“I know for a fact that your schedule would have had this port checked this morning. No reason to check it again.” Mark went on, trying his best to not seem assertive. “What’s really going on?” He knew it had to do with Mars. Everything was going to be about his unplanned, extended stay on the red planet. It was silent, Mark shifted. “Beth… come on.”

“I should have warned you.” She finally said. Mark furrowed his brow. Even though Johanssen couldn’t see him, it was like she expected him to be confused, she started explaining before he had the chance to ask what she meant. “On Sol 6, in the sand storm. I am your assigned partner for emergencies like that. I saw the antenna coming and I didn’t say anything.”

Mark closed his eyes as he ran his hand over his face, his palm resting over his mouth. Watney exhaled deeply through his nose. This time he definitely heard a sniffle. “That wasn’t your fault, Beth.” Mark said as he moved his hand away. “There wasn’t anything you could have done, everything happened so quickly. Even if you did warn me that doesn’t mean I would have been able to move out of the way in time.”

His situation wasn’t anyone’s fault. Mark had expected Lewis to blame herself but to find out that Johanssen felt guilty about it was a surprise. Mark was the oldest of the crew and Johanssen the youngest. They had a twelve year difference between them and he sort of viewed her as the younger sibling that he never had. The last thing that he wanted was for her to be upset, especially over something that she couldn’t control.

“This was not your fault, Beth.” He stated firmly. She didn’t answer. “Please tell me you understand that.” Silence. “Beth…” After a few seconds there was a shuffling sound as she crawled out of the access tunnel, Mark moved back to give her space to jump down. He stared at her and smiled. “It was not your fault.” Mark repeated. Beth nodded once, her face setting as she calmed down. Mark pulled her in for a hug, she was careful to not squeeze to tight. “Tell me you believe that.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” She spoke with a firm voice, one that didn’t betray her words to be false.

“If anything I’ll have to have a stern conversation with the engineers that made that crappy communications dish.” She tried not to smile but he still saw her smirk and roll her eyes. “Now…” Watney started. “I vaguely remember you were informing me of the rogue you used to play and our conversation never had an end.”

She smiled at him for the first time since he was rescued and he knew that they were going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 693

I’m going to die. No doubt in my mind that, that is going to happen. The end is nigh. Tell my parents I’m sorry that I broke the lamp in the living room when I was younger. I blamed it on the cat. I was allergic to the cat, hated the cat. Thank god they got rid of that cat. Oh god, I’m dying. Can this be like The Sims and the grim reaper appears and then parties with the crew afterwards? Reaper seems so cool.

I want that job. Reap then party.

Reapin’ parties.

Wonder what sorta tunes the Grim Reaper listens too. Not disco music I can tell you that right now.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 694

Hmm. I wish I could delete log entries.

Let me explain yesterday’s. I failed at not getting pneumonia. It was hard to distinguish the fact that I was growing ill from feeling generally like shit. Starvation can do that to a person. Beck thinks I got the infection in my lungs shortly after being rescued. Fast forward to my little chat with Johanssen and our conversation about her Rouge. (Who is a badass.) By the end of that I could feel a tickle in my chest. Thought nothing of it. Spent a year and half thinking nothing of my injuries. I didn’t have time to. I had to stay alive.

The next day, that’s Mission Day 691, I woke up feeling down right awful. I went and saw Beck right away. He chastised me for a few minutes. “You should have come seen me sooner.” And “You’re lungs sound awful, you knew this could happen.” My favorite was, “I mean, Christ, Mark. Sounds like there is enough fluid in there for an aquarium how did you not notice?” I think he was exaggerating because the chest x-rays didn’t show that much fluid buildup.

But anyway, yesterday. Had a fever. Like… one hundred three point something, closer to one-oh-four. So, I was a little out of it. Chills, chattering teeth. I was glad for the broken heat regulator in my quarters. I hardly remember Beck administering medication. Antibiotics and a cough suppressant. It is a difficult situation. Beck doesn’t want me to completely stop coughing. So I can help force the unwanted mucus from lungs. But at the same time if I keep coughing I could agitate my broken ribs and make that problem worse. Leading to a collapsed or punctured lung and with pneumonia that would be bad. 

I haven’t gotten out of bed for three days. Except to use the restroom and such. Lewis threatened to restrain me after I pushed my limits and apparently almost fainted in the Rec. Personally, I don’t recall that but the rest of the crew was there and saw it happen. Martinez embellished the story. Saying I put my hand to my forehead and gasped like a damsel before fainting into Vogel’s strong arms. That might have at least made the situation funny.

I feel the worst I have in a while. The antibiotics are strong and making me even more nauseous than I was before. They can give you kidney stones if I don’t drink enough water. My chest has a continuous stabbing ache that even the pain meds are having trouble handling. Beck could up the dose but they make you constipated. Yay. Add on that I have no desire to eat anything. Being sick and all the medications have destroyed my appetite. Which, I have to force myself to eat because I need calories. The fever is causing more than normal to be used. Beck could hook me up to an IV to get the nutrition I need but right back to the problem of needing calories. Just like on Mars.

So, three days later, I still have a fever but it is low grade and I have to try and eat something. This is the worst. I just want to be in my own bed. Not this bed but the one in my house. I wonder how my house is. Shit, I hope my family didn’t sell all my stuff when they thought I was dead for two months. Huh, going to have to ask them about that. If they got rid of my baseball card collection I might cry.

 Mark wheezed as he sat up on his cot. He brought his blankets with him, wrapping the fabric as tight as he could around his body. Wanting a sweater to wear, he slowly got to his feet. The minimal movement required to get the article of clothing left Mark panting. Which started another coughing fit. Through the wet cough he hacked up phlegm and spat it into a tissue before throwing it away. “Fuck me.” He breathed as he struggled to get the sweater on. Watney had to brace himself against the wall as a wave of vertigo gripped him. He needed to eat something. It had been at least twenty hours since he had anything. Other than the formulated energy drink that NASA sent with them.

Tired eyes looked to the door of his quarters. Mark wished he had a call button, a nurse button, a something to get someone in there. He felt a cough coming on, attempting his best to breathe through it but the desire and urge to cough won out. His chest almost exploded in pain, he winced through the spell. Watney bent at his waist, holding himself with one hand on the desk. It would have been one thing if he were able to expel any of the mucus in his lungs but the coughing wasn’t active. Almost like he was coughing for the sake of coughing.

Mark attempted to take one last deep breath. His vision blurred and the last thing he remembered was landing on the ground.

A rather morose veil fell upon Hermes when Mark fell ill. The crew’s spirits were lifted when he was rescued, they finally had him back. Wise cracking and being generally obnoxious. It was difficult to see him in such a state. They had all trained together for months, flew to Mars together. They were closer than some families. They all felt it when one of them was sick.

It was lunch time for them and they gathered in the Rec. Save for Martinez who was finishing up some of his morning tasks. Mark had made a point to eat with them when he could, so they could see that he was eating. Also to help ease the tension that was still present. (And so he could get used to being around people again.) But now the present crew members were down the botanist/engineer once more.

“I’m worried about, Watney.” Lewis spoke up, she had barely touched the meal pack that she had prepared. Everyone was picking at their food, thinking the same about Mark.

“We knew this could happen.” Beck spoke up. The doctor had spent the most time with Mark since he boarded. Even though a majority of that time was in a professional capacity. Chris sighed, finally digging into his lunch. “He’ll pull through.”

“How did he even get pneumonia?” Johanssen asked, speaking for what seemed the first time that day. Her question caused the present company to look to the doctor.

Chris shrugged. “It’s hard to say. The broken ribs restricted breathing, causing the lungs to not expand as far as they should. Thus making areas not open as far. If any bacteria got into his lungs and settled into those spots it would cause an infection. As far as where the bacteria came from, could have been anything. Something on the ship to the normal bacteria found in your mouth.” He paused for another bite. “Malnutrition can make you immuno-compromised it would have been amazing if it didn’t happen.”

His answer didn’t settle the crew. They exchanged heavy glances before finally following suit and starting their meals.

Martinez finished up the morning checks. It had taken him longer than usual, as he had a hard night sleeping and took forever to wake up. With his duties complete he floated towards the crew’s quarters. Descending backwards down the port ready for the increase in gravity. Even though Martinez was still staying in Beck’s room, his belongings were in his own. Whistling as he walked, he glanced through open doors. The crew was absent from their rooms, all in the Rec eating. Rick stopped by Mark’s room and poked his head in. The bed was empty but his eyes shifted and saw Watney’s feet. “Mark!” Martinez exclaimed as he rushed to the prone man’s side.

“Mark, hey, wake up buddy!” Rick shook the botanist’s shoulder, Mark groaned but refused to get up. “Stay there.” Martinez said, even though it was obvious that Mark wasn’t going to move. Jogging, Rick went to the Rec. The crew looked up to see him burst in to the common space, a worried look on his face. “It’s Mark.”

That was all Martinez needed to say before the crew was scrambling out of their seats. 

It only took Martinez and Vogel to get Watney off the ground. Beck had gone to his quarters to get his medical supplies. Once Mark on the bed, Lewis cleared out the room. The crew stayed in the hallway as the doctor and commander hovered over Watney. Chris listened to his chest and frowned. “Decent bit of fluid buildup.” He said as he slung his stethoscope around his neck. Beck took his temperature next. “Fever spiked. Not sure if he had eaten anything. He most likely stood up and then passed out.”

Lewis furrowed her brow, watching Mark sleep. His breathing quick and raspy. “Is there anything you can do?” She asked.

Beck looked over Mark and then shrugged. “There isn’t much I can do at this point. Continue the antibiotics and make sure he eats so he has strength to get over this infection.” The doctor crossed his arms over his chest. “If he can get past the worst of it, I’m sure that he’ll pull through. Just have to make sure that happens.”

The Commander nodded. “I want someone to stay with him all the time, to make sure that he is okay. Breathing fine, eating and not passing out. We’ll rotate shifts, I want someone here even when he is sleeping. I’ll take the first watch, you guys decide the rest of the schedule.”

“He’s not going to like that.” Chris pointed out.

“I don’t care. We did the impossible by rescuing him from Mars and I’ll be damned if we lose him on the trip home.” Lewis pulled up a chair and took a seat by Watney’s cot and settled in. Beck knew that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Call me if you need anything.” He said before leaving the room to go talk with the crew.

Mark stirred, woken up by his own coughing. He sat up for easier breathing, once his hacking came to an end he realized he wasn’t alone. “Commander,” He wheezed and coughed once. “Watching me sleep?” He asked and put together the fact that he wasn’t on the ground. Mark held his hand over his sore chest. “What happened?”

“You passed out. Not sure how long you were on the ground for.” She spoke smoothly, an even tone in her words but that didn’t hide the concern that Mark could hear. Watney nodded knowingly, recalling the moment when he lost consciousness.

“How long have I been asleep?” Mark asked as he rubbed his sternum.

“Only an hour.”

Mark hummed as if he was content with the answer.

“When was the last time you ate something?” The commander asked.

Watney hesitated, “Um,” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Been difficult to want to eat.” With that, Lewis shoved a protein bar in his direction.

“Eat it.” She stated firmly. “Please.”

Mark took the food and tore it open before taking a bite, he was hungrier than the last time he tried to eat. “I can eat this without supervision.” He said between bites. Melissa shook her head.

“Sorry, Mark. I want someone with you all the time until you are without a fever for at least a day.”

Her statement made Mark stop chewing, he resumed and then swallowed. “What?” Mark did his best to keep his voice even.

The Commander sighed, knowing well that Mark wasn’t going to approve of this idea. “I just need to know that you are going to be okay, Mark. I’m not doing this because I think you need to be babysat. We are all well aware that you spent well over a year alone. We are doing this because we care about you.”

Mark shifted, taking another bite of the protein bar instead of talking. There was silence between them for a while. “I don’t think it is necessary.”

Lewis’ jaw tightened. “Mark, as of this moment I am doing this for your own good and ours. We all haven’t been home in a long time, we all went through a lot of –“

“No, no, no.” Mark cut her off. “You don’t even know. You guys went through me dying and then not being dead. I went through having to wake up with the real fact that I could die that day. One small mistake and that would be it. It was by some fucking miracle that I didn’t die and honestly, I…” His voice trailed, he looked away from Lewis. “It might have been easier.” Mark voice was quiet, Lewis barely caught what he said. “But,” Watney cleared his throat. Blinking quickly as he turned his attention back to Melissa. “You cannot compare what you went through to what I did. So please do not try.”

Lewis swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, you are right. But that doesn’t change the fact that we are a crew. We are here now, back together again and as a whole and we are going to help you get better, Mark. I do know that it will be difficult for you. In ways that the rest of us will never understand. But if you let us be there for you, maybe just maybe we can make it a little easier.”

Silence fell on them again as Mark considered her words. Lewis was always good at giving speeches, she always knew what to say and how to say it. She knew what people needed to hear and when to hear it. She also wasn’t afraid to tell the truth and point out mistakes. It was part of what made her such a great commander. It was how Mark knew she was being sincere. “Well, if you are going to be spending so much time with me," Mark started. "I think it is only fair that I get to hear from you how things went while I was gone.” A lot happened for the crew and Mark wanted to know how everyone was after their emergency launch from Mars. “And don’t skip any details.” Mark added.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.”

Lewis nodded, shifting in her seat. She searched for her words to being the account. “After you were hit with the debris we tried looking for you. The storm made it impossible to see and with the high winds the MAV was going to tip. I sent the crew to board and I kept searching. The MAV reached the tipping point and Martinez fired the OMS to keep it stable for a few minutes longer. Just enough time for me to board.” She stopped when she noticed the blank expression Mark had on his face. “What?”

“I don’t mean debrief me on what happened. Even though I do appreciate knowing you tried to find me. I mean, what happened after you got back to Hermes.”

Lewis sighed. “We became different. No one talked. The only thing on our minds was ‘What could we have done differently?’. It was hard to try and continue, knowing we lost one of the best members of the crew. But we had a job to do and we all pressed on. We did our tasks, tried not to think about why we were doing yours. I think we told ourselves other reasons. You were sleeping in, always impossible to get you out of bed. You were busy fixing some unforeseen problem that prevented you from doing your daily tasks.

We told ourselves Martinez was checking on your plants because he lost a bet to you. It was impossible to think that you were gone. The ship was quiet and stayed that way until Henderson told us you were alive. Life started returning knowing that there was a plan to save you. Then we got to be the ones to go back to Mars and get you ourselves.” She smiled, a line of tears were brimming in her eyes. “It was the best moment we had on this ship, the only one better was when we finally got you back.”

Watney’s lip quivered before he broke into a smile. “Okay fine, you can stay. Just stop being all sappy.” Mark joked with her, causing Lewis to laugh.

“You asked.”

“I did.” He nodded. “Thanks.” He waited a beat as he leaned back against his pillows. “Now, what did you losers say for my funeral? Because I just gotta know. What did you saps come up with?” Mark asked before taking another bite of the protein bar. “I bet it was recorded.”

“That is something you’ll have to find out on your own. My shift here is done, I think Martinez is going to sit with you next.” She stood from the chair, stretching her back. “Take it easy and get better. That’s an order.”

“Aye, commander.”

Content Lewis left the room, it was quiet for a few minutes until Martinez made his appearance. “Hey, buddy! I brought a deck of cards. Figured it was time to kick your ass in a game of go-fish.”

Mark grinned as Martinez took the seat that Lewis had left behind. “Oh, you are on.”

Chapter Text

Mission Day: 695

SUBJECT: Watney’s Status
FROM: V. Kapoor
TO: M. Lewis
CC: T. Sanders, M. Henderson, I. Shields, A. Montrose

Commander,
All of us here at NASA are celebrating the great work that the Ares 3 crew has accomplished. However, we need an update on Mark’s current status. It has been a few days and we have heard nothing. Please send a report as soon as possible.

Thank you,
Vanket Kapoor
Director of Mars Missions
Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center
2101 NASA Road 1, Houston, TX 77058
Building 1

SUBJECT: Re: Watney’s Status
FROM: M. Lewis
TO: V. Kapoor
CC: T. Sanders, M. Henderson, I. Shields, A. Montrose

All,

Glad to hear that spirits are high back home. Things have been up and down on Hermes.

After successfully getting Mark aboard he was immediately taken under Dr. Beck’s care. Beck performed a battery of tests. As expected Mark is suffering from extreme malnutrition and is believed to be about thirty pounds underweight. He has been started on a 2,500 calorie a day diet to gain back the weight. Chest x-rays confirmed two broken ribs sustained in the 12 g take off in the Ares 4 MAV from Mars to Hermes. Beck administered an injection of dihydrocodeine around the affected area to relieve pain to allow for normal breathing. This injection has been repeated as necessary. He was also given a cough suppressant to minimize possible irritation of his broken ribs. As well as an expectorant to break up the mucus in his lungs.

However, due to complications of his broken ribs in tandem with malnutrition he developed pneumonia a few days after rescue. At this point, Mark had passed out while alone. He received no extra injuries. I made the choice to have a crew member with him at all times until his fever was gone for at least twenty-four hours. Beck started treatment with an oral dose of Azithromycin. With the cocktail he was already receiving Watney was unable to keep the medication down. Beck switched to an intravenous form of Azithromycin.

“I can’t believe I threw up. Fucking hell. I made it so long without getting sick.” Mark complained as he laid in bed. An involuntary shiver went through his body.

“Mark, you have to hold still.” Beck repeated as he tried to keep his hand steady. Finding a strong enough vein in Mark’s arm had proved difficult. After several attempts Beck had yet to insert the needle properly. Mark was getting restless and didn’t want to be hooked up to anything. They switched to his hand and managed to get the needle in first try.

Beck made the choice to take Watney off the fever reducer once the antibiotic treatment was started. Mark’s fever spiked that night. It reached 104.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Vogel was on shift during this period and went to get Beck when Mark started having what he believed to be a night terror. If more detail is needed, Vogel can write up a summary.

Johanssen and Martinez stood at the door while they watched Beck and Lewis attempt to restrain Mark. Vogel stood at the ready if his assistance was needed.

“Mark! Wake up, Mark!” Beck shook him in an attempt to rouse the botanist. Mark was thrashing in his sleep, shouting about Mars. Something about stopping a leak.

“No, no. This can’t happen,” Mark’s delirious voice croaked. “Can’t let this happen!” He turned, his face pinched in a grimace. “I’m going to die, oh god!” Lewis slapped Watney’s cheek. Mark’s eyes shot open and he panted. Sweat covered his body. A look of panic was in his eyes as he glanced between the people in his room.

Watney had no recollection of this happening. Once woken, he went into a coughing fit that lasted some time. I had everyone but Beck report to the Rec to give Mark privacy. Beck and I stayed with him the rest of the night. He woke several more times due to coughing and by the morning hours he was coughing up specks of blood. After performing another chest x-ray we were relieved to see that no more ribs had been broken nor did Mark have a collapsed or punctured lung. Beck believes that the blood is from the repeated coughing fits and isn’t something that should be worrisome at this time.

As of right now, Mark’s fever is down to 101.2 and he has slept through most of the day without waking. Given time for the Azithromycin to work, Beck says that Mark should be feeling better within the next two to three days. The major problem that we are facing at this point is making sure that through all of this is that Mark is still getting his 2,500 calories per day. It isn’t the best situation but I believe that it could have been worse. Mark fought hard to get off Mars alive and as he stated, he won’t let this one infection win.

“I’m gunna get over this, Commander.” Mark spoke through his feverish chills. “How lame would it be if I died from some infection?” He almost laughed but the pain in his chest stopped him. “Spend a year and half on Mars only to die by pneumonia? Not going to happen.”

Given Mark still had an elevated fever when he stated this but I believe him. He has proven himself to be strong willed and that hasn’t stopped. I will report back after a few days with his status, unless something else happens in that time.

Cmd. Lewis.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 697

It has been a rough couple of days. Don’t think I have been this sick since Swine Flu hit while I was in high school. I have slept most of the last two days, I didn’t have much of a choice. Beck sedated me. Something about being worried for my well-being or whatever. On top of feeling like ass; the repercussions of my abandonment on Mars have started to show themselves. Man, I am going to be a shrink’s field day when I get home. I can see it now, laying on a leather couch looking at ink blots. “What do you see here?” Potatoes. “What about this one?” More potatoes. “And this one?” Uh… potatoes?

Fuck.

Anyway… today is the first day that I haven’t had a fever! Go me. Maybe, just maybe I’ll finally be able to start getting healthy again. It sucks big time to be sick. I know the crew is trying their best to not be affected by it but I can still tell they are hesitant. Especially after this whole pneumonia thing. I swear, if one more of them asks me if I am okay, or if I need anything I might scream. How can I answer that question? No I am not fucking okay and I need to get off this damn spaceship. 201 more days. Sigh.

Eating a proper meal for the first time in days, Mark leaned against the wall behind his cot. Vogel was sitting with him again, munching away on his own lunch. The chemist was rambling on about his recent results on his experiment. Watney wasn’t really listening, he looked past Alex and stared behind him as he ate. Glad to finally be able to keep something down that wasn’t water.

“The reaction went surprisingly well with the reduced catalyst,” Vogel said between bites. “I think the experiment could be self-sustaining if the right balance is discovered. Although that will take some work to find the right amount of reactant. If it goes wrong it could be explosive. Don’t want to do that part on a spaceship.”

Mark’s eyes flicked towards the German.  “Did you know that hydrazine is explosive if you breathe too much? I mean, you can set up the reaction as safe as you’d like but if you breathe, you’ll blow yourself up. Which I don’t recommend doing that. It sucks. What sucks more is that you have to do it because you need water and have to do crazy shit to get it.” His slight outburst caused Vogel to still and watch the botanist. Mark hadn’t gone into the finer details with the crew with all that he did to stay alive on Mars. They were all well aware that he had done some incredible work. Work that was also incredibly dangerous. This was Alex’s first glimpse into what Mark had to do to survive.

“I have blown myself up, once.” Vogel said, his reaction calm. “I was a young boy in my father’s garage. Both my parents worked growing up and I was the oldest so I tended to get away with a lot. I suppose it was my first look into chemistry. My father was an engineer and had acetylene tanks for welding. I had seen him do it dozens of times. I thought, I can do this. I thought wrong. One spark from that ignitor and I was on the other side of the garage.” Vogel tugged at his shirt collar to show a white scar on his clavicle. “It is not so bad of a thing to happen. Teaches valuable lessons.” He spoke as he let the fabric go and leaned back in his seat. The chemist resumed eating.

Watney stared at him before nodding once. “Sure as hell does.” He agreed before taking a bite of his food. “I also don’t believe that that was the only time you’ve blown yourself up.” Mark said as he reached over for his drink. “Something tells me you have a reputation.”

Vogel grinned. “Well I am not the super villain you suspect me to be but I have been involved in some interesting situations.”

“That just sounds bad coming from you. Give me a rough estimate. How many times have you blown something up?”

Alex though for a moment. “Counting the VAL, that puts me at 2 controlled explosions.”

“Controlled?” Mark smiled. “What about uncontrolled?”

“That is something I cannot disclose.”

Watney leered at Vogel for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re still a super villain.”

Vogel’s shift ended when lunch was over, the chemist said his goodbyes and that he would stop by later. Mark warned him to not have any more uncontrolled explosions before he left. Watney was alone for a few minutes. It was enough time to allow him to use the restroom and return to bed. Despite being sick of being bed ridden he was exhausted. Mark welcomed the fact that he was able to lay around without having to worry about something malfunctioning, breaching, exploding or generally trying to kill him.

On the other hand the sudden lack of problem solving was causing him to go stir crazy. Going from working on issues every day for a year and half to doing nothing was maddening. Before he contracted pneumonia he was convincing Lewis to let him work on some minor things with Hermes. Then he got sick and the chance of any sort of labor went out the airlock. Luckily he was able to read his own books, watch his own shows and listen to his own music. The crew had left their data sticks behind on Mars but the data transfer rate from Earth to Hermes was significantly better than from Earth to Pathfinder. So the crew was able to have their own entertainment again.

As he settled into bed, Mark rested his personal tablet on his lap with the plan to read some Crichton. A few pages in, Beth joined him in his quarters. “Johanssen,” Mark started, watching her take the seat everyone was using. “I thought Lewis was going to be in here next.”

“She was but she had something to deal with so I’m covering for her at the moment. And don’t worry, nothing bad, just stuff with NASA.” Beth added to explain that nothing was wrong with the ship. Mark nodded.

“I was just gunna do some reading.” He motioned to the screen.

“That’s fine.” Johanssen sat cross-legged in the chair and opened her laptop. “I got plenty to do.”

A bit of time passed in silence. The two enjoying each other’s company without speaking. Mark reached the end of a chapter and glanced over to Beth. “Johanssen…” Mark broke the silence. He waited for Beth to give him her attention. She glanced up. “Why isn’t Martinez sleeping in his room?” Mark asked. He had noticed that Rick wasn’t in his room at night a few days ago and forgot to ask about it.

“Oh, um, the heat. Guess he can’t stand it like you can. And it is worse in his room anyway.” She explained before looking back down. Mark nodded once as he digested her answer.

“Then where is he sleeping?”

Beth looked back up. “He’s in Beck’s room.” She answered shortly.

Mark raised a brow. “Oh, I see.” He hid the traces of a smirk. “Then where is Beck sleeping? Or are they having an extended sleep over?”

Johanssen stayed quiet for a moment. “Beck is sleeping in my room.” She finally spoke up. Mark had to bite his bottom lip.

“And where are you staying?” He asked, even though he knew very well where she was sleeping. Johanssen stared at Watney. “Ohhh!” Mark feigned surprise. “So, you’re like, sharing a bed?” He continued. “These cots aren’t that big.” Watney patted the available space next to him. “Doesn’t leave much room for two people unless they are close.” He looked to Beth. “Like, really, close.” The unamused expression that the sysop was giving him didn’t change. “When did that loser tell you?”

Beth couldn’t help but to smile at this point. She shut her laptop. “Um, after you sent him that motivational letter. But I guess it was more obvious than we realized. The commander apparently picked up on it a while ago. She was the one that told Beck to sleep in my room.”

“I’m gone for like a day and all protocol is thrown out the window.”

“You were gone longer than that, Mark.” Beth pointed out.

“Okay, like several hundred days and all protocol is thrown out the window.” He corrected himself. He waited a moment. “Well, are you happy?” Mark asked as he turned to lay on his side. He snaked his arm under his pillows to give him a higher view.

“What is this? Girl talk?” She teased him.

“It can be whatever you want it to be. I was just asking a question.” All his motion caused him to cough. Johanssen had a worried look on her face when he finally stopped. “I’m fine, just working out the mucus.” He said as he reached for his water bottle.

Once it seemed that Mark was comfortable, Beth answered him. “Yes, I am. Happy that is. Given the circumstances in which he decided to confess that he liked me were rather gloomy. It was a strange mix of emotions. Happy that we finally told each other how we felt. Sad because he had to express his feelings because our crew mate who we thought was going to die told him too.” Johanssen had the ability to be straight forward with her words when she wanted to be.

Mark hummed in understanding. “Yeah, that does suck. What an asshole.” He said in matter-o-fact way. That caused them both to smile and Beth to laugh.

“Luckily he is a stubborn jerk and just wouldn’t die. So now he gets to bother me about sharing my bunk with my crewmate.”

“This guy sounds like a lovely man.”

Beth laughed again. “He’s not.”

Mark chuckled as much as his sore chest would allow him. “As long as you are happy.” Watney said as he turned to lay on his back and grabbed his tablet once more. He unlocked the screen, the e-book still in the same spot that he left off. He read a few lines before glancing over to Johanssen. “I don’t know how you share a bed though, these cots are tiny as fuck.”

“We cuddle. Now read your damn book.”

Mark mocked her words silently before doing as told. They resumed the silence for some time. Only to have it broken when Beck stuck his head in the room. “Everything going okay?” He asked. The doctor had made it a habit to make several checkups a day.

“Well look who it is!” Mark exclaimed as he sat up in bed. “The cuddle man.” Beck look to Johanssen, who simply looked to her computer screen.  

“Looks like everything is okay here.” He said before turning on his heel to leave.

“Wait,” Mark said, causing Beck to stop in his tracks. “I gotta ask you unnecessary questions to make Johanssen blush like a lobster.”

The doctor squinted and then shook his head. “Don’t make me sedate you again.”

“So who is the big spoon?” Mark asked suddenly. Beck sighed loudly before leaving. “I bet it is Johanssen!” Watney called after the doctor as he left the room. “You seem like the kind that needs snuggles, Beck!”

It was quiet for a moment.

“I think he is right!” Martinez’s voice chimed in from somewhere close by. Everyone burst out laughing. With a grin on his face, Mark felt content with his crew for the first time in the ten days that he had been rescued. It was small moment, a glimpse into their antics before the accident. But it was enough for him to know that one day they would all be able to return to a dynamic that they all remembered. 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 698

I am elated. I have made it out of the twenty-four hour window with no fever and Lewis has ended the babysitting. The crew still stops in but now I spend more time alone than before. Which no big deal, pretty good at spending time alone now. Gives me the time to think about things and I sure do have a lot of things to think about.

For instance, the amount of training required for a space mission. Especially going to Mars. The crew and I logged thousands of hours of training getting ready for Ares III. Ranging from a classroom that had a teacher, you took tests and got grades. To working in simulated no gravity (which is just a big pool). Every single situation tested the worst possible scenario. What would happen if this haul breached? What if this tank was leaking or if it ruptured? What would you do if your communication system went down? Years of this. I could seem grim, going to work and sitting through a million different ways your job could kill you. But actually, it was rather enlightening. Relaxing in a way. You’ve tried and been through almost every scenario that could happen and what to do in those cases. It let me sleep at night. I didn’t have to lay awake wondering what would happen if such and such took place because I knew what I would do if it did.

In the endless simulations, -- why am I explaining this? NASA knows all this. You know what, fuck it, it’s my log and I’ll write in it what I want.

Anyway, there is one called the ‘Contingency Sim’. Which is also known as the Death Sim. You and a bunch of other people sit in a board room and go over everything that could happen to you on a mission. Then there are green cards thrown in. Events that push the situation in certain directions. They start out rather similar, usually a moderator stating: ‘Mark has been injured during surface operations'. Then everyone in the room would go over what would happen next. I would elaborate on my end, while everyone on Earth did their job. Then a green card. Get a wrench thrown in the plan like: ‘It has been leaked that there has been an incident with Ares III’.

The PR group chimes in with their job and we continue on. Then we go to the fun part with: ‘Mark has died.’ Now it’s a new game. The crew discusses what to do with my remains. Do they leave me outside? Do they put me in a space suit and leave me in the Hab? What if I start to smell? Dozens of things to go over. Then a green card: ‘My parents are currently on two different sides of the country and still have to be informed of my passing’. Well, now what is the easiest way to do this? Call them on the phone? Can they even be reached on the phone? Does NASA send a representative out to tell them in person?

Even my parents sat in on these Death Sims. They made sure to always be reachable while I was off planet. It is a simulation, like all others, that allows for problems to be taken care of before they happen. Accounting for every possible scenario. This allows for weaknesses to be discovered and plans tweaked. Except for me, because what can you do when you are dead? Of course, the only green card that didn’t come up was: ‘Mark was believed to be dead but, surprise, actually isn’t and has no way to communicate with Earth and is stranded alone.’ How do we handle this? Pretty sure that’ll be a card now.

Pretty sure that a lot of protocol will be changed because this whole ordeal. And I’m probably going to have to sit in on all those meetings and help them. Ugh.

Mark was finishing up his lunch, he ate later than the rest of the crew because he had slept all morning. His fever had broken but he was still incredibly exhausted and weak. He didn’t have any current duties, so no one bothered to wake him up. Watney finished off the soup and pushed the dishes towards the center of the table. He took in as deep of a breath as possible and held it. Closing his eyes as he ignored the pressure of pain building in his chest. Once he couldn’t stand it any longer, Mark exhaled. As his eyes opened he heard the soft thump of someone landing at the bottom of the ladder leading to the Rec. It was Lewis.

“Good Afternoon, Mark.” The commander said as she approached the table. She remained standing. Mark nodded a hello back to her. “Are you busy?”

Mark squinted one eye at her before looking around the vacant Rec. “Uh, no. It seems that my schedule is wide open for the rest of the day. And tomorrow and the next day and I’m going to assume also the next.” He answered before standing to dispose of the garbage from his meal. Melissa smiled a bit as he turned from her, she didn’t want him to know that she was amused by his sarcasm.  

“Well good, then follow me.” She turned and climbed the ladder. Mark waited a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t his birthday, he was pretty sure it was no one else’s birthday either. Unable to come up with an answer he followed. Mark found Lewis floating in the direction of the bridge. Coming to stop next to her, Mark looked around the controls. There was no one else in there except for them. Lewis patted the seat in front of her. “Strap in.”

With a suspicious look, Mark did as he was told and waited. The commander leaned over him and pressed a few keys to wake the screen.

SECURE LINK ESTABLISHED.
JSC LOCAL TIME: 1435

JSC: Mark? It’s Mom and Dad.

Watney stared at the screen. His throat was tight and he was very aware of his heartbeat at that moment. He licked his lips and blinked a few times. He looked up at Lewis, unsure how to respond.

“It’s a private channel. No one is watching, no one is reading.” She rested her hand softly on his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.” She said before turning to leave Mark alone in the bridge.

Mark took in a deep breath in an attempt to dissipate the strong feeling of emotion in his chest. But the longer he stared at the short message the harder it was to keep back tears that wanted to fall. It had been over a year and half since he had spoken with his parents. The last time he saw them was before the crew launched for Hermes. The last time he talked to them was two days before Hermes left Earth’s orbit. The entire time he was on Mars the thought of getting to talk to his family again kept interrupting his focus. Mark made sure to tell them hello in his messages and of course got their emails sent to him. This was the first time that they would be able to talk in real time. (Minus the twelve light minute delay both ways but it was close to real time for over eighteen months.)

With shaking hands, Mark reached out to the keyboard and typed his reply.

HRM: Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.

JSC: Oh thank god. We are so proud of you and we love you so much. We can’t wait until you are back home.

HRM: Me either. Love you guys, too.

JSC: How are you?

Mark stopped and reread the last message a few dozen times. Wondering in what tone they were asking. If it was his mother or father typing. He guessed his mother, his father was a hunt and peck sort of man. He hadn’t gone into any real explanation with the crew on his current state but this was his parents. He couldn’t lie to them.

HRM: I don’t know. Glad to be off Mars. Not sure what NASA has told you. Had pneumonia pretty bad for a few days. It sucked, wished I had your homemade soup, Mom. Been eating like I should. Lost a lot of weight. I have been having trouble sleeping. At first I thought it was because of the different schedules between Mars and Hermes. But after eleven days, I’m still have trouble falling asleep. I can’t seem to switch my brain off. Always thinking about a problem to solve even if there are none to worry about. Planning for every outcome on the ship. Since they blew up an airlock I can’t help but to think about if the rest of it ruptured. Knowing well what it is like for that to happen, I couldn’t imagine it taking place on a scale like this.

I’ve been doing my best to not think about Mars. But it seems that everything I do I keep comparing it to that year and half. I have to remind myself that I’m not alone. I get startled every time someone shows up unannounced. Also have to remember to put clothes on. That was a little awkward. Actually, a lot awkward. Poor Johanssen.

The crew is treating me well, obviously. No reason for them to not too. Can’t help but feel like they are handling me with gloves on. Like I’m going to crack if they say the wrong thing. Sort of driving me insane. Just wish they would confront me with their problems. Guess I should do the same but we still have a long time on this ship and I’m assuming they don’t want things to be awkward. Neither do I.

How is Buzz?

JSC: You should tell the crew how you feel and that you aren’t sleeping. Keeping all of this to yourself will only make things worse. I am sure that they are more than able to understand your concerns and will do whatever they can to fix them. That can only happen if they know.

Buzz is good. We told him that you are coming home and he knocked over everything on the coffee table with his tail wagging.

Also, Debra called. Wanted to know how we were and if we knew anything about your situation post rescue. The news coverage since hasn’t been as active. Lessened to once a week rather than every single day.

HRM: Deb? Really? That fucking bitch?

JSC: Mark.

HRM: Sorry. Well, good to know that getting stranded on Mars is all it takes for your ex-wife to acknowledge your existence again. What did you tell her?

JSC: That there is nothing to know and for her to fuck off.

HRM: Mom.

JSC: That was your father. But yeah, that is basically what we told her.

HRM: Thanks. How have you guys been?

JSC: It has been a roller coaster. Go from having a dead son, to one that isn’t but probably will die. To having a plan, then not one. Then the next thing we know you’ve been saved and are coming back to us. We couldn’t be more relieved. The rest of the family says hi. They want to have a party for you when you get home. What do you think?

HRM: Uh. Not sure. Hard to say. Would love to see all them but maybe not right away. I’d like to wait, get used to the world again…

JSC: That’s what we thought you would say.

HRM: Also, you didn’t sell any of my stuff did you? While you thought I was dead?

JSC: No. It is all in storage though. Your house however… that is a different matter. One that you’ll have to talk to the bank about. All your accounts were frozen when you ‘died’. Since you still had a mortgage, the bank took back your house. You didn’t specify what to do with the house in a will, so it has been sold. Until you get home and prove that you aren’t dead your finances will remain frozen. We tried to unfreeze them for you and even had a letter from NASA explaining the situation but until you come in person, it is a no go.

HRM: UGH. WHO DOES THAT? WHAT THE FUCK? Banks suck. Guess I’ll be crashing at your house once I get home. Probably not the worst idea. Anything else to report about my situation at home? Or not home since I don’t have one anymore.

JSC: Nothing else more. We are always happy to have you. Anything you want to tell us?

HRM: I never want to eat potatoes again, please.

JSC: Understood. Our time is coming to an end here. Hopefully we’ll be able to make it back out to Houston to talk to you again soon. Stay safe. Eat all your vegetables. We love you, Mark.

HRM: Love you too. See you in 200 days.

SECURE LINK DISABLED.

Soon after the conversation ended the log was deleted. Mark smiled. It was incredibly uplifting to talk to his parents. It was good to know that they were doing well. He wished he could see them but that was going to have to wait a few more months. Hermes was still out of range for audio transpondence let alone video communication.

Unlatching his seatbelt, Mark moved carefully through the bridge. Martinez was exiting the crew’s quarters. “Hey,” He started when Rick noticed the botanist. “How was your chat?”

“Good.” Mark figured the crew knew that he got to talk to his parents. He didn’t care that they knew. “Apparently I don’t have a house and Deb wanted to know how I was.”

“Deb?!” Martinez exclaimed. “That fucking bitch? Wow.”

Mark nodded quickly. “That’s what I said!” He agreed with a grin before Martinez moved past him towards the bridge.

The pilot shook his head as he floated away. “Bitch doesn’t deserve to know after what she did.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” He said before moving his own direction towards the quarters. Martinez laughed incredulously as Mark reached the pull of gravity. At the bottom of the ladder he turned to face Lewis who was going to head up.

“Deb, huh?” She asked with a shake of her head.

“What can you do? Guess I’m interesting now.” Mark shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. For setting that up. I needed that.”

The commander smiled. “Wasn’t my idea. Vogel actually thought of it. Figured it would be good for you to talk to someone not on the ship. Someone you trust and your parents seemed like the best option.”

“I’ll have to thank him too. Everyone actually. I know it’s been difficult. That I’ve been difficult but it’s been… strange. I’m working on it.”

“We know you are and please, let us know if you need anything, Mark. We aren’t just your crew mates we are your friends and we want to help you. The only way we can do that is if you tell us.”

Mark stared for a moment. “You sound like my mother.” Lewis tilted her head with an amused shake. “But since you brought it up, there are a few things that I’d like to talk with you about.”

The first time Lewis asked if Mark was okay he figured she didn’t really want to know. That it would have been a burden to deal with his confessions on top of commanding a spaceship. But he was wrong, she wanted to know. The crew had few secrets from one another. Their closeness and trust a byproduct of the countless hours spent together. When one of them was having an off day, everyone noticed. Normally, it didn’t take long to figure out what was wrong. With Martinez it was usually some small spat with his wife. Beck tended to get upset with his sister. Vogel wore a particularly grumpy demeanor when an experiment didn’t go as planned. It took a while to figure out that whenever Johanssen was in a poor mood it usually just meant that she was hungry.

She tended to get lost in her computer work and would forget to eat. A hungry Johanssen equaled a snappy one. Lewis wore her emotions on her sleeve. She wasn’t afraid to announce her problems when necessary. Although when she kept to herself it was nearly impossible to tell what was bothering her.

Mark however, almost never had a bad day. He was the one that was able to zero in on a problem with a crew member. He was the one that cracked jokes, made people smile and laugh. He offered solutions to problems and helped execute them if needed. So now that he was the one that needed help, the one having the worst off day imaginable, the crew wasn’t sure how to assist him.

“Actually, can you just call the whole crew? Might as well talk with everyone.”

Lewis nodded. “I sure can. We’ll meet in the Rec in about twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Mark. Not a problem at all.” 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 699

My chat with the crew went better than expected. Actually, it was as well as expected. Everyone is a professional here. Trained to deal with unforeseen situations, no matter what they might be. I was able to express my… anxieties about the ship and other things. They agreed to keep me in the loop about the status of Hermes. I still can’t do any work but I get updates now. It has been helpful. Despite the fact that one of the doors to the VAL is compromised, the outer door is holding strong with no signs of damage from the blast. I would still feel better if there was a way to repair the inner door. But it isn’t like NASA sent spare airlock doors. I’m sure they didn’t plan on one being deliberately blown up. They obviously didn’t plan for someone to be left behind on Mars either. Seems like NASA has a lot to work on.

But yeah, feels better having talked with everyone. Things aren’t perfect but every little thing helps. I guess I just have to figure out how to be me again. Spent so much time alone, I sorta dissociated from myself. I’m not just an astronaut that survived on Mars. I’m Mark Watney, a botanist and mechanical engineer. I’m an avid fan of baseball and a dog owner. I have to remind myself that I’m me still. Even though I went through one of the most traumatic events of my life. I can’t tell if being on Earth will help with that.

It’ll be easier being closer to all the things that made me, me. At the same time, I went through something no one else ever has. How do I relate to people again? Hmm. That seems like a problem for future Mark. Present Mark is hungry and has to go see Beck for my weekly checkup.

“Lungs are sounding better.” Beck said as he stepped back from Mark and picked up his tablet to record a few notes. “Still fluid in there but not nearly as much. Still coughing it up?” Beck asked as he looked up.

Mark nodded. “A whole rainbow of mucus. Luckily no more blood though. So, silver lining.” Beck added a few other notes.

“How are your ribs feeling?” Beck pulled up a seat and situated himself in front of Mark. Watney was about to answer when Beck applied pressure to one of the fractured areas. Mark sucked air in through his teeth and pulled away.

“I was going to say better, but not when you push on them.” He swatted Chris’s hand away and held his chest where the pain was pulsing but already beginning to fade.

“Do you need any more medication for the pain?” Chris asked as he looked at a file that detailed the dose history that he had been administering.

The botanist shook his head. “No, it’s at a manageable level.” Beck nodded once before making yet another note. Setting the tablet to the side, the flight surgeon leaned back in his seat.

“Anything else to report?”

Mark sat for a moment, going over a list in his head. “I’ve had a sinus headache for a few days. Lots of pressure build up.” He said as he pressed on the location right below either of his eyes. “Congested.”

“Makes sense. Zero gravity, fluids move upwards and you have a lot in your body right now. A decongestant should help. Anything… else?” Chris asked. The way his question sounded Mark realized that he wasn’t asking about physical ailments. It only made sense for Beck to want to know about his mental state. He just confessed to the whole crew that a single airlock was giving him anxiety. There were bound to be other problems. Mark licked his lips. He wanted to talk to him but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

“Nope. Not at the moment.”

Log Entry
Mission Day: 699 (2)

Mental health is a fragile thing. Especially for astronauts. People could go to space in perfect physical and mental condition and be reduced to a blubbering mess under the stressful situations. Really, no sane person should elect to ride a giant bomb into space. But there have been dozens of people who went and came back just fine. Of those dozens of individuals, none of them ever got stranded on a planet before.

It has been a long studied topic. The mental health challenges faced by astronauts and cosmonauts. Dozens have written how going to space has changed their view of their place in the universe. It is one thing to look at a photograph of the planet Earth but to witness it in person is entirely different. With the extreme environment, harsh and high-risk work factors of long term space travel are very real. It is a problem that NASA has dealt with from day one. Working on ways to reduce the possibility of behavioral or cognitive changes.

It is one of the main reasons that the recruitment process is so rigorous. If you aren’t in literal perfect health, you aren’t going to space. Being stuck on a ship with the same people for months at a time can easily spell disaster. Tempers can flare, disagreements take place or if you aren’t feeling one hundred percent you could piss someone off. The isolation in space (even with a crew) is crushing. Thousands of kilometers away from civilization and you have to carry on knowing that you could die if you fuck up.

In training we have to read all about the mental problems that could take place. It’s rather dismal. Months living in a tin can, thousands of miles from home, with few comforts and a high stress job can lead to a myriad of psychological pressures. That’s why NASA has so many different protocols in place to keep astronauts mentally fit while on a long term mission. (They even have one to deal with extreme cases that involves duct tape, bungee cords and strong tranquilizers.)

When it was first announced that there was going to be manned missions to Mars one of the major hot topics were: 'How will the astronauts not go crazy?' Pretty sure no one knows. Even now.

Long term space flight when you are close to Earth is different. Working on the ISS is easy comparatively. There is almost instant communication with Earth. Once you are there for a while you don’t really feel like you are actually that far from home. On the ISS you can receive extra packages, even surprise presents to the crew members. Can’t just send a care package to Mars. By the time it got there the mission would be over and the crew is on the way home. There is no room for surprise on a long term and distance space mission. The Ares I crew went through some of the most intense psych prep in the history of NASA and some of those guys still have problems. (Trust me I know, I’m friends with all of them.) Traveling to Mars is incredibly different. The isolation from Earth is much longer and the communication is worse. Combine these factors with the lack of support from Earth and the repercussions are serious.

Personally, I wish I could say that I could fly to Mars and back and be fine. Even if the mission went perfect, not a single problem, I probably would still have some issues when returning home. Just not as bad as they are going to be now. Before the Ares program became a reality, space agencies all over the world were working on the logistics for long term Mars missions. A joint experiment conducted between the ESA and CNSA was the first real look into the effects of a proposed journey. Mars-500 was a psychosocial isolation experiment conducted from 2007 to 2011. Five volunteers lived and worked in a mock space craft for 520 days. The simulation included an Earth-Mars shuttle spacecraft, their own version of a MAV and the Martian surface.

Done in three stages, the crew was effectively cut off. Communication with the world was limited. They even added the time delay between Earth and Mars. Everything was tested in this time. Cardiac, immersion, hyperbaric, radiological, gastrointestinal and psychological experiments were conducted. And what they discovered? The crew was able to work together to get over problems and disputes. Of course they happened, impossible not to. They found continued motivation was the lowest point. Finding a reason to continue on after being alone for so long proved difficult. Another big factor was fighting boredom.

Now, this was all hypothetical (to a degree). There is only so much a situation like this can prepare a person for. The only way to know how a mission to Mars would affect someone psychologically was to send someone to Mars.

Cue Ares I. They did a great job. They made it back without killing each other. The information gathered from their mission helped Ares II better prepare for their trip. They came back closer to the same mental health state that they departed in. Then Ares III. This was going to be a cake walk. Ample entertainment was loaded up to prevent boredom in downtime. More than enough work was assigned. NASA actually gave us more experiments and tasks than they thought we would be able to complete. In an attempt to prevent lackadaisicalness. The initial 124 day trip there went over well. A few disagreements but nothing that couldn’t be handled. The first five sols, perfect. Sol six. Utter shit.

That’s when everything changed for everything known about the mental health of space travel. I died and the crew had to leave me behind. That is a major blow to morale. Now, my crew is traveling alone in space. Isolated from any sort of humanity while dealing with one of the most painful moments in their lives. Only to find out now that I am alive and they have to deal with leaving me behind. That’s fucked. My mental state is completely shot, I understand that. (Understanding and acceptance are two different things, however.) But I’m worried about my crew too. A perfect mission could have left them with problems. Our mission was not perfect. I don’t want them to deal with the repercussions of what I went through on Mars on top of what they might be dealing with. I don’t want to tell them how I thought I was going to die every day. I don’t want to tell them that there were times I almost gave up. I want them to be able to have a normal life even if I can’t.

Fuck, Mars.

Fuck everything about that damn planet. WHY WOULD WE WANT TO EVEN GO THERE? IT’S A DAMN DESERT PLANET. WHO CARES?

Jesus. Just fucking up people’s lives. Fuck.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 699 (3)

Okay, I calmed down a bit. Had to throw a tantrum. I know why NASA wanted to go to Mars. I fully endorse space travel and expanding knowledge through the stars. I’m just angry and upset. I really care about my crew and don’t want them to be hurt by a mistake that couldn’t have been controlled. I don’t want to go home and sit in meetings going over every single detail. I don’t want my crew to be subjected to a committee that is going to scrutinize every last thing they did. I know they are great people and would never do anything to cause harm. I want all this to go away.

I just want things to be what they were.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 699 (4)

Also, still fuck Mars. 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 700

Two weeks down only twenty-six more to go. I feel like more has happened in the fourteen days on Hermes than the five hundred and whatever days on Mars. Getting rescued, suddenly around people, getting fucked my pneumonia. Okay, so it hasn’t been busier but it has felt like it. I think it is the constant socializing. Don’t get me wrong, I love people. I love being around people. People are great. I have been an extrovert from day one. But going from being alone for a year and half to not being alone takes some getting used to. I now realize how Johanssen felt when she turned down offers to hang out with the crew on Friday nights. Just need time to recharge.

Even then, I do miss the constant company. It was nice to get the chance to talk to everyone. We talked about how Hermes has been, how everyone’s families are. Martinez let me know that Marissa might give me a stern talking to. She was pretty upset to find out that the mission was extended for another year. Don’t blame her. I was pretty upset to wake up alone on Mars. What can you do? Sorry, not sorry for my crew coming back to save me.

Let’s see what else has happened? I’ve gained about three pounds back. (Again lack of gravity means unable to take a proper weight.) Beck wanted it to be more but the pneumonia was a setback. To counteract that he has upped my calorie intake to 2,800 for a few weeks. Do you know how much food 2,800 calories is? It’s a lot when you went from barely eating 1,000. It is almost painful to eat that much food sometimes. I have to force myself to finish the meal. I do though. Every time I finish it. Because I’ll be damned if I never finish a meal again. Gunna eat what I want when I want. Really cannot wait to not eat ration packs. They are exponentially better than potatoes and vitamins. But nothing beats a medium-rare bacon cheeseburger. Nothing in the food sent with us even comes close to the same taste. Totally going to have a barbecue when I get home. And I’m going to eat it all myself.

The crew was gathered in the lab portion of Hermes as everyone worked on their tasks for the day. Vogel was off to the side doing dreaded titrations. Beck and Lewis were working with his mice for his immunology research. Johanssen and Martinez were on the other side of the lab. It was their turn to work on Mark’s botany experiments. Mark watched them from his computer. He might not have been allowed to do the work himself but he was allowed to offer help with explanations if needed. Vogel’s music was playing over the speakers. A classical piece performed by the Berlin Philharmonic.

Rick was working with matured plants, documenting physical findings of the growth. It was a continuation of the Advanced Astroculture program that had been started on the ISS. A wide assortment of plants had been germinated from seed-to-seed in space. Ares III was tasked with collecting Martian soil to test viability for growing food in space. Mark watched Martinez idly. The experiment on Hermes was useless. No Martian soil had been brought back and he already knew how well plants could grow in the soil. Every well. Although the experiment still needed to be finished. The aim was simply changed to one that didn’t include Martian dirt.

As everyone worked, Mark typed away. Recording everything he could remember that he did on Mars for future reference. The small scale experiment for growing plants in Martian soil was scraped on Hermes. But Mark's large scale production on Mars was still valid. 

RESEARCH OVERVIEW:

•          Attempt to germinate, cultivate and produce viable plant life in Martian soil. Supplemented with Earth soil and fertilizer to inundate with needed bacterial cultures.
•          Determine if plants can complete a seed-to-seed cycle in microgravity and Martian conditions.

DESCRIPTION:

Ares III was provided with 0.02 cubic meters of Earth soil and the seeds for Poa secunda, Buchloe dactyloides, Osmunda claytoniana and Dicksonia Antarctica.  To conduct experiments for the Advanced Astroculture Program (ADVASC). The original parameters of the experiment called for these plants to be grown in a mix of Earth and Mars soil. However, due to extenuating circumstances, the choice of plant grown was Solanum tuberosum. Precise environmental control was used for plant growth. Including temperature, humidity, light, nutrient delivery, water and carbon dioxide. Developed and theorized ADVASC methodology was used to create viable soil with Martian dirt. Through these methods a successful seed crop of S. tuberosum was produced. After the seed crop was planted it yielded 1,841 potatoes at approximately 276,150 calories. Another crop was unable to be replanted due to an environmental breach.

METHODOLOGY:

15.6 cubic meters of Martian soil was used to create 126 meters squared of farm land. Through utilization of the Hab and two rover pop-tents. The soil was fertilized and inundated with Earth bacteria. Additional water was needed to dampen the soil. (Reference Reaction of Hydrazine to H20 for detailed procedure and report.) In total 624 liters of water was used to make the mix of Martian and Earth Soil and fertilizer viable. Starting with a small amount of Martian soil, the Earth soil and human fertilizer were mixed. Three dirt doublings were executed to make viable the 15.6 cubic meters of soil.

To achieve a higher yield the younger plants were dug up and planted on top of the older, matured plants. Each plant was cared for individually through germination and growth. The first set of potatoes harvested were used as a seed crop to finish planting the total area of the farm land.  

RESULTS:

Despite the abrupt end of the experiment, growing potatoes in Martian soil was successful. Through the addition of needed Earth bacteria the potatoes grew better than expected. Producing 1,841 potatoes. A regulated environment with the lack of pests and weeds to compete for nutrients accelerated growth.

SPACE APPLICATIONS:

Ares III in conjuncture with ADVASC explored the benefits of growing crops on Mars. Using microgravity to create customized crops that withstand disease and inhospitable conditions, resist pestilence, and need less space to grow. This information is incredibly valuable to the expansion into space exploration. As it shows that it is possible to grow food on other planets under the correct conditions. If space was created for food production it could supplement the time spent on another planet. Less food would be required to be sent. Thus making a smaller payload and less fuel requirement to supply a mission. This could be used a precursor to extend space travel.

Mark was about to start the next paragraph when Martinez called his name. “Mark!” He said loudly. Watney was unsure of how many times his name was said before he realized he was being talked too.

“What?” He asked, not looking away from the screen as he saved the document. Finally, Mark looked up to see what Rick wanted.

“I need some help over here and since you are the botanist, you get to explain this next experiment.” Rick held up the notebook that had all Mark’s experiments. The book detailed every step, had everything needed to complete the procedure. It even included references in case something didn’t make sense.

“What? Don’t know the difference between a beaker and a flask?” Mark asked with a smile as he shut his laptop and set it on the table next to him.

Martinez forced an airy laugh. “Ha, funny man over here. No, I know that. A flask is what you carry booze around in and a beaker is what I’m gunna do to my wife when we finally get home.” Rick said with an obnoxiously wide grin and a wink. Everyone groaned at his awful and crude joke.

“Yeah, okay.” Mark shook his head as he came to stand between Martinez and Johanssen. He slipped his hands into the front pocket of the hoodie he was wearing. Looking over the protocol, he figured out what they were working on before getting started. The paper was labeled, ‘Biological Research in Canisters-20-3: Understanding Anoxic Response in Arabidopsis (BRIC-20-3)’. “So where are you lost?” He asked, glancing up from the paper to the greenhouse in front of them.

“Uhm… just at the part with all of it.” Martinez admitted. Beth smirked. A silent way of agreeing that she too was dealing with information out of her range of knowledge. Mark had to smile as well.

“Well, Arabidopsis, is that plant right there.” Mark pointed to a small flowering plant within its own container. “And this particular experiment is testing a reduced oxygen environment. Specifically in the water used. So we can have a better understanding of how space flight affects gene expression related to oxygen limiting conditions.” Both Martinez and Johanssen stared at him. “It’s so we can define the one of responses of plants to the inherent stresses of space flight. Lack of gravity can lead to depletion of oxygen in certain regions of the plant, like the roots. Which then would call for a different way of cultivation in space and on planets with low gravity.” He stared back at his crew mate. “Make sense?”

“Sure…” Martinez nodded a bit as he turned to pick up the lab book and started rereading the protocol.

“It’s pretty important stuff. If you preserve the plants in a chemical you can bring them back to ground for post-flight evaluation. We need to do it to test how well plants grow in an extended space flight. If these problems can be worked out, it is one step closer to sending humans farther in space.”

“I know that Plant Boy.” Martinez said as he handed the lab book off to Johanssen. “Just think you should do your own work.” He said light-heartedly.

“Bring that up with her.” Mark said as he stuck his thumb over his shoulder to point at the Commander. She was shaking her head ‘no’ at the both of them. Watney didn’t even need to turn around to know that she wasn’t going to approve him returning to work yet. “Any other questions?” He asked but they didn’t make any indication they needed anything else explained. He might not have been able to work with the crew yet but he could at least stay in their company.

Mark was about to turn to take his seat back when the classical music ended and the track switched. The playlist was set to shuffle everyone’s music. That way it was a fair distribution of what everyone got to listen to while working together. The song switched to one from Lewis’ disco collection. Upside Down by Diana Ross started playing. Mark closed his eyes and groaned. He had heard Melissa’s music play on Hermes since his return. But it was always quiet, just enough to hear the beat. This was the first time he was subjected to an actual song. He thought nothing of the song for a moment.

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

It was the same song that was playing in the Hab as he suited up to go outside to the Rover. The same song that was playing as he entered the airlock. The same song that was stuck in his head when the airlock malfunctioned. The same song that played when the Hab breached.

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

Mark froze. He wasn’t on Hermes any more. He was being slammed into the walls of the airlock. His face plate shattered once again in front of him, cutting his forehead. His hand unconsciously touched the spot on his forehead where the gash had been. The same feeling of panic and confusion that struck him when the airlock launched seeped into his chest. He had to take a few deep breaths. “Can we change the song?” Mark asked finally looking up. It didn’t seem that anyone noticed his reaction.

“But this is actually a good one.” Martinez replied as he snapped on a pair of gloves to get ready to start the experiment. Mark glanced to him. He was having trouble not panicking. To stay calm. He knew he wasn’t in a leaky airlock, even if he was he had survived that situation. He didn’t want to think about it though. It was one of the many times that Mars could have killed him. It was pure luck that the airlock didn’t fracture more, or burst open entirely. He could have easily died in the few seconds that the Hab launched him.

“Please?”

Martinez smiled. “What? Can’t listen to one more disco song?” He asked with every intention of poking fun. Rick winked and playfully jabbed Mark in the side with his elbow. Although he managed to hit one of the still healing broken ribs. A wave of pain washed over Mark. One that reminded him of how sore his body had been when the airlock finally came to rest. Mark swallowed hard.

“Okay, fine. Don’t change it.” He said tossing his hands up in front of him defensively. “I’ll go somewhere else.” He said as he snatched his laptop from the table and tucked it under his arm. Lewis shot a glare at Martinez before looking to Beck who had already started moving in on the situation. Vogel turned the music off in favor of picking another song. Lewis stepped in front of Watney, stopping his path. Mark clenched his jaw. “Commander.” He started as calmly as he could. “Not now.”

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly. The rest of the crew had gathered close together behind. Mark glanced over his shoulder at all of them before looking back to Lewis.

“Yeah, fine. Just really don’t want to listen to your disco music. Sorry, a little jaded by it.” It was a partial truth but Mark didn’t want to admit that he was on the edge of a panic attack. At this point, even with the music off, he needed to be alone. Lewis made no indication that she was going to move. She kept her gaze fixed on him. “Honestly, Commander. Besides I should probably eat something.” He attempted to defuse the situation before it became a problem. The only error was that Lewis could tell that he was deflecting. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay.” She finally let him win. She wasn’t going to make him do anything that made him uncomfortable. He needed to take the time to recover and do it at the pace he needed. Finally stepping to the side she let him leave. Once Mark was out of the lab Lewis turned to face Martinez. “Don’t do that again.” She warned him. It would be his only warning. Rick nodded once. Feeling the guilt press into his chest. No one knew exactly what happened just now but they knew that the song triggered something. “Beck, please go check on him in a little bit.” She didn’t even need to ask, the Doctor was already making plans to do so.

After the short time spent in the zero gravity zone, Mark slid down the ladder to the crew quarters. He made it quickly to his room. He almost tossed the laptop onto the desk as he shut the door. It was still hot in his room. A problem that he had been wanting to fix. He didn’t really care about it at that moment. Mark took deep breaths, ignoring the pain it cause him. His increased breathing led to him irritating his lungs and he coughed. Mucus was still lingering and he had to sit down after becoming light headed. It took all his effort for his breathing to not turn into hyperventilating. “It is just a song.” He told himself quietly. “You aren’t on Mars.” Mark added before laying on his cot. He grabbed one of his pillows and gripped it in his arms. “You’re on Hermes. Headed towards Earth.”

It took him several minutes to calm down. He was finally able to work though the increased anxiety and stress. Mark sat up, the pillow still in his arms, he buried his face into it. “God damn it.” He spoke muffled through the fabric. 

After laying with his eyes closed for a while, there was a knock at his door. One that he had been expecting. “Come in.”  He moved the pillow from his face so he could be heard. The door slid open and Martinez stepped into view. “Oh, I was expecting you to be Beck.” Watney admitted as he set the pillow to the side.

Martinez shrugged sheepishly. “He was going to come up here but I figured I owed you an apology.” Rick started as he took the chair from the desk. The same one everyone had used when they were required to sit with him. Mark didn’t say anything to indicate that Rick didn’t need to apologize. “I should have changed the song. Sorta didn’t think about how it would bother you. Kinda hard to expect any of that y’know?” His apology wasn’t the most forthcoming one but it exactly the one Mark knew Martinez to give.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I didn’t even expect it myself to be honest.” Watney moved to sit on the edge of his cot. “That song was playing at a bad moment on Mars and just took me back there.” It was Mark’s turn to shrug. “Can’t explain it.”

“You wanna talk about it? I’m always here for you man.” Rick reminded him. They had been through a lot. Friends for over a decade. There was little that the either man didn’t know. 

“I think I’m good right now. But thanks.” Rick wasn’t convinced.

“Honestly, feel free to talk about what happened on Mars. I get this feeling that you think that we don’t wanna hear about it but we do. That you think it’ll be easier on us all if we just ignore what happened.” Rick stood from his seat. “But it’s not gunna be easier. If you just tell us what happened, we can help. Then make it easier.” Martinez waited, but it seemed that Mark wasn’t going to say anything. He nodded once silently and headed for the door.

“That song was playing when the Hab breached.” Watney spoke up before Martinez made it out the door. “Uh,” The botanist fixed his gaze on the ground. “It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life and I haven’t thought about it since it happened. On Mars, I was always focusing on the next problem. Not thinking about what just happened. So when the airlock blew and launched with me in it, I thought that was going to be the end. Again.” Mark stopped and stared for a bit longer before turning his attention to Martinez. “That song made me think about that and it was just as terrifying as when it happened.”

The pilot took the seat again. “And how did you survive that?” Rick asked. He didn’t apologize to Mark for what happened to him. He didn’t apologize that he had a flashback. There was nothing for him to be sorry for. Other than not changing the song as asked. Martinez knew how strong willed of a person Mark could be. “Because you made it out of there alive. You can certainly get through thinking about it.” A moment of silence passed. “But do you know what best part about this time is?” Martinez asked. Mark shook his head. “You don’t have to survive it alone.” Rick reached over and patted the side of Mark’s knee. “We’re here for you, buddy.”

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 701

It is currently three thirty-two in the morning. I can’t sleep. Which sucks because I actually went to bed when the rest of the crew did and fell asleep. But I woke up feeling sick again. Sort of achy all over. Like the beginning of the flu. I really don’t want to be sick again. I still am sick for Christ’s sake. The pneumonia is still lingering, my ribs still hurt like hell and I’m still starved. So, sure, throw the flu in there. Might as well. I should go see Beck before jumping to conclusions. But this feels like it is going to be the flu. Muscle aches and chills. Vaguely nauseous.

In a strange way being on Mars was easier. I didn’t get sick once down there. Even after getting impaled by an antenna. Come up to Hermes and it is one disease after the next. I understand that my ‘immune system is compromised due to malnutrition’ but I mean come on. Honestly, if I had the food supply I think I would have been okay staying there. It wasn’t that awful. I’m probably going to be looked at strange but I will miss Mars. I mean, I’m not going to miss the situation I was in. That just sucked. But Mars itself, I will miss. I know that when I get home the NASA shrinks will never clear me for space travel again. My career as an astronaut in space is over. I should have taken more pictures of Mars. It was a stunning planet despite its murderous tendencies. And I’m never going to get to see it again. Why does this upset me? This is strange.

I spent what is probably going to be the most time a human will ever spend on Mars (until people live there one day) and I’m upset I can’t go back. This is such an odd mix of emotions. I’m proud of myself in a way. Proud I lived for 549 sols alone. Proud I set the record for so many things. Upset that I won’t get to go back. Happy that I don’t have to go back. Terrified that even though I won’t go back, Mars is coming home with me whether I want it to or not.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 701 (2)

Forced myself back to sleep for a little bit. Woke up still feeling awful. At that point I didn’t feel bad going to Beck’s room. Or well, Johanssen’s room. (I was right by the way. Beck is totally the little spoon.) After awkwardly waking up the both of them, Beck came back to my quarters to do the exam. My lungs sound better and I’m still taking antibiotics. So he is pretty sure it isn’t flare up or something related to that. I have no fever so he doesn’t think it is the flu. Even though I have all the other symptoms of it. Beck doesn’t have an explanation for me. Other than he thinks my body is just reacting to not starving anymore. Seems like a pretty poor excuse but I don’t have a better one.

He asked how I was other than that. Obviously probing about yesterday’s … moment. I told him that I’m doing better. Left out the fact that I still feel paranoid as shit about the damn VAL. I literally cannot stop thinking about it sometimes. Every single test and diagnostic report states that the outer door is holding firm. It shows no signs of deformity. Yet here I am still convinced otherwise. I’m worried that if I tell Beck about my paranoia over the airlock he’ll medicate me. I really don’t want to be on sedatives for the entire flight back to Earth. I’d rather stay alert and anxious than medically mellowed and despondent. I just have to remind myself that there is nothing wrong with the airlock and everything on Hermes is fine. Mostly everything. It's sort of fine. There is the problem with the cooling vanes and the reactor not working at full. The issue with the internal heal regulation. The fact that there is an entire door missing to the airlock! All problems that would otherwise delay the launch from orbit on a regular mission.

But as we are all well aware there aren’t just exits we can pull off of and go to a garage to get an oil change. It is unfortunate that Commander Lewis isn’t letting the ship’s engineer fix the problems. I mean, that guy could probably take care a few of the issues. I’m sure he’s smart enough to come up with a solution for the mean time. Oh wait, that’s me. I am smart enough to come up with a solution. I might have one for the internal heating problem. As for the cooling vanes, that’s out of my control. The airlock is an entire different problem. One that I am going to continue to try and not think about.

Starting the day with a lengthy shower, Mark spent longer than regulation under the hot water. The sores on his body were closer to healed than not. Bruises were fading from dark blue and purple to light yellow and green. As he washed his body, Mark managed to get a bit of soap in his eye. He cursed as he did his best to flush out the irritant. Squinting, he turned off the water as he finished washing. Watney rubbed his eye as he stepped out of the stall. Unware of the small puddle of water that had gathered at the entrance, he slipped. Mark cursed as his arms pin wheeled but he found nothing to grab a hold of and ended up on his back.

With a groan he wondered if he should just stay there. After a moment he got to his feet and grabbed a towel to soak up the water. With a warm robe wrapped around his body he made sure to look at the floor for any more slick spots. Mark brushed his teeth and moved on to shave. There were things that never changed in space travel. Using the least amount of water for a task was one of them. Provided with a specialized shaving gel, Mark put a thin application over his cheeks and jaw. Utilizing a regular razor he wiped the blades on a towel after each pull.

Doing his best to keep a steady hand failed when a bout of chills vibrated through him. Mark’s hand jerked, the blades caught and cut the skin on his chin. “Fuck.” He muttered as the razor dropped from his hand and clattered on the counter. Mark looked around, there wasn’t anything in reach to stop the bleeding. He used the collar of his robe and pressed the fabric into the nick. After applying pressure for a minute he let go. It stopped bleeding just long enough for him to finish shaving the rest of his face. After he cleaned up his mess, Watney covered the bleeding with his robe once more before exiting the bathroom.

After dressing, Mark stuck a small bandage over the cut on his chin. The temptation to crawl back into bed was growing. His muscles hurt, he felt fatigued and cold even though it was abnormally warm in his quarters. Pulling his blanket from the bed, Mark wrapped it around his shoulders. Crashing face first into his pillow, the botanist remained motionless for quite some time. Until a soft, repetitive clicking sound emanated from behind the wall. Mark rolled to his side and scanned the room as he tried to locate the noise. It would stop and then start at varying intervals. Forcing himself out of bed, Mark walked around the space. His ear to the wall as he tried to find the source of the sound. Eventually, he found it. Behind his desk there was something in the wall that was vibrating.

He assumed that it was the failing heating system. Over worked from the constant heat, something had loosened and was moving free. He stared at the spot on the wall with intent. Every time the sound started it agitated him like nails on a chalk board. Deciding it wouldn’t be a good idea to take a hammer to the walls like he did the rover, Mark left his room.

The blanket billowed behind him as he milled about the crew’s quarters. He was growing increasingly restless. Mark tapped his fingers against his leg. He found his way back to his room, standing in the doorway. His ears perked to listen for the rattling. It started again. He was going to do something about it. With a flourish of the blanket he took a seat at his desk and opened his laptop. He navigated quickly through several pages before finding the documents for the thermal controls. He skimmed the headers. He was able to ignore the information about the Thermal Protection System. (The shielding that protected the outside of Hermes). He skipped the section about radioisotope heater units. Mark stopped on the Passive and Active Thermal Control Systems.

Looking up the spot on the wall, Mark stared as he tried to visualize the internal workings. He clicked through the intranet found the schematics of Hermes. Finding the correct page for the environmental controls in the walls. Watney decided that the problem was most likely with the fluid loops. They had a two-phase loop system composed of heat pipes that ran through the walls. The loops transferred heat dissipated by equipment throughout the ship. There were few sources of actual heat on Hermes. Everything was used and recycled. That included energy. The heat that the computers and rector core created was sent through the heating system to warm the ship.

Mark knew that the reactor was acting up due to the issue with the cooling vanes. The excess heat wasn’t dissipating through the exterior of the ship any more. To protect the delicate equipment that comprised the core, the extra heat was sent through the rest of Hermes. Via the environmental regulating system. Thus resulting in an overactive heat pipe that vibrated.

There were a few possible solutions. Fix the cooling vanes. Couldn't be done in transit. Dial back the reactor. Can’t be done without losing too much power. Bust the wall open and duct tape the pipe still. Plausible. The only flaw in the plan was physically getting to the pipe. Mark got away with overhauling the rovers because his life depended on it. Ripping apart a wall that probably cost more than his house because the sound was annoying was going to be frowned upon. Frustrated that there was no immediate way to fix the problem Mark resigned for the time being.

Mark stood from his chair. The blanket fell from his shoulders and landed in a heap on the seat. With a turn he headed for the door. Mark didn’t clear the desk without clipping his pinky toe against the corner. A string of expletives poured from his mouth as he hopped around. However none of the words sounded complete as he quickly moved on to the next one. “God dam-, fuc- shi-. Why?” With a deep breath, Mark composed himself. He glared at the leg of his desk. He was reaching his breaking point for the day. Everything was bothersome.

Mark left his room. Mindful of anything around his feet this time. It was a short trip to the Rec. He had never been more thankful to see it empty. It was lunch time. Watney figured the crew would show up soon. So he took the time to be alone and enjoy his meal. After microwaving the meal pack, he removed it from the container careful to not burn himself. With no injury he ripped open the foil once he took his seat at the table and began eating. Only to burn his tongue.

The hot food fell from his mouth onto the tray. “Mark.” He spoke his own name quietly. “What is your fucking problem today?” He waited for the meal to cool before taking a few more bites. Although at this point he found himself uninterested in eating. He stared at the rehydrated, freeze dried portions before pushing the food away. He wished he brought his blanket with him. His body was still being plagued by chills and his abdominal muscles hurt. Watney hunched over and wrapped his arms around his waist. He remained that way until the sound of his crewmates entering the Rec brought him out of himself.

“Mark,” Beck started as he crossed the room to stand in front of the table. His eyes were on the untouched meal and then on Watney. “Still not feeling well?” He asked as he rounded the table.

“Feeling peachy, Doc.” Mark commented sarcastically. Beck reached out to touch his forehead to see if he had a fever. Mark pulled away. “I don’t have a fever.” Normally he would have been fine with the gesture. It was one that showed Beck cared. A simple hand to the forehead. Add on to that he went eighteen months with no other human contact, he should have welcomed the touch. Right now the idea of it annoyed him greatly.

Beck pulled his hand back. “Okay. Let me know if you get one then.” He looked Watney over, trying to figure out what was going on with him but he was stumped. The best he could come up with was that Mark’s body was adjusting back to being cared for. There was plenty of literature on the human body going through starvation. None that also included being isolated for a year and half. Beck let it go.

Martinez and Johanssen prepared themselves lunch, each taking a seat at the table. Martinez to the left of Mark and Johanssen across the table, to the left. Once Beck was ready he sat across from Beth. The three chatted about the day’s work and the plan for the rest of the evening. Mark kept to himself as they spoke. The uncomfortableness in abdomen was building. But he didn’t want to have another examination that day. 

“Mark?” It was Johanssen’s turn to speak up. After a moment Watney glanced to her. “Tomorrow is everyone’s day off. We were thinking about having a movie night. Anything you wanted to watch?”

“No. Not really.” He answered shortly.

She perked an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to watch any of your own movies.”

“I’m painfully aware of that thank you.” He had to keep himself from snapping at her. “Whatever you want to watch is fine with me.” He forced a smile. It didn’t help cover up the tension that everyone felt. She nodded before turning the conversation back to the other crew members.

Martinez was distracted with ripping up the paper to his food pack. Each rip long and drawn out. Mark looked to the pile of shreds that the pilot was creating. He wanted to ask Rick why he was doing that but decided against it. Once the paper was torn up, Martinez began rolling them into balls. He flicked them at Beck and Johanssen. The two smiled as the small pellets of paper landed around them. They joined in and started sending them back and forth across the table.

Each time one flew past or the sound of their nails clicking against the table repeated Mark grew more agitated. He was experiencing an unexplainable buildup of anxiety and was doing his best to not cause a scene.

That was until one of the small pieces of paper, flicked by Johanssen, hit him in the face.

He lost it.

Mark quickly stood up from his seat. “How about you guys act like fucking adults? Like the responsible mature astronauts that we all know you are? Instead of like fucking children flicking scraps of paper back and forth?” His outburst coincided with Commander Lewis and Vogel entering the Rec. “I mean for fuck's sake! There's like half a dozen things wrong with the damn ship and you’re all sitting around playing with fucking paper!” He threw his hands in the air. Mark could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His anger was building and he needed to leave the room. He didn’t apologize, he didn’t stop to talk to Lewis. He didn’t even make eye contact with her. In a few quick movements (faster than his still healing ribs would have preferred) he was up the ladder and out of the Rec.

The room was silent. Lewis was looking at the three astronauts. They had a look of guilt on their faces. However it was overshadowed with concern. Johanssen had shrunk in on herself, her hands wrung together. She hated confrontation and being yelled at. Beck kept his eyes fixed on the small pieces of paper in front of him. Martinez was the only one who made a move to stand up.

“Should one of us go check on him?” Rick offered. The last outburst Mark had wasn’t anything like this one and everyone was worried.

The Commander looked over her shoulder to the ladder. “No.” She decided. “Give him some space. If he needs us, he knows where to look.” Everyone accepted her answer, despite no one liking it.

Mark was back in his quarters, his blanket tucked around him as he curled on himself in bed. He winced as he breathed. The pain in his abdomen was reminiscent of yanking the antenna fragment out. Except somehow worse. The intermittent chills did nothing to help with the pain. “Fuck.” Mark breathed out. He wanted to fall asleep in hopes to ignore his body rebelling against him but he found no such luxury.

A few hours had passed. His state only deteriorated. The pain grew, the chills worsened and the nausea was becoming a problem. A thin covering of sweat coated his skin. Mark had a grimace etched in his face as he did his best to wish away the ailments.

The crew continued on with their shifts. No one talked much for the rest of the day. Everyone was thinking about Mark. Wondering what he was thinking, trying to figure out ways to help him. They all did as they were told and left Watney to himself. Giving him the space that it seemed like he needed. Johanssen typed absently. She felt awful about the situation in the Rec. It was her that flicked the piece of paper that hit Mark between the eyes. The last straw that set him off. She wished she knew that something had been wrong. So they could have helped instead of making whatever was bothering him worse.

Johanssen glanced at her watch. She had been working nonstop and needed to use the restroom. She unstrapped herself from her seat and floated towards the restrooms. She relieved herself and was cleansing her hands only to be startled by Mark bursting to the room. He was green in the face and was hunched over a toilet vomiting before she could react. “Mark!” She was at his side in an instant. “Are you okay?” She winced at the sound of him retching. She hated that sound. “Okay, stay here!” She got as close to a sprint as she could to find the others.

There was no moving him. Mark didn’t want to go anywhere. The crew was squeezed into the bathroom. Beck knelt next to the commode and felt the botanist’s forehead. Mark sneered but made no move to stop the doctor. Lewis stood over the two men. Her arms were cross, one sticking up so she could rest her chin on her fist. “Maybe it is his appendix?” Lewis offered as a suggestion.

Beck went to answer but Mark cut him off. “I don’t have my fucking appendix.” Watney growled.

Chris looked at Mark then up to the Commander. “Even if he did have acute appendicitis the severe symptoms wouldn’t have this quick of an onset.” Beck got to his feet.

“Are you sure there weren’t any aliens on Mars, buddy?” Martinez called from the door way.

“Fuck off, Martinez.” Mark groaned into the toilet.

“That’s a no.” Rick said with a smile, even though the situation shouldn’t have amused him.

Lewis shook her head and Beth elbowed Martinez. Beck rubbed his chin. “Mark have you had anything to eat?”

The question caused Watney to look up at the Doctor. A judgmental look on his features. “Yes, I have. Considering that’s the only fucking thing I’ve been doing since I’ve been on this fucking ship. Which you should know, since you’re making me eat like six damn meals a day. So yeah, Beck, I have had something to eat.”

Beck attempted to get past the vulgar sarcasm. He knew well this was the way Watney acted when he was in extreme pain or distress. That only worried him more because he didn’t have an answer for why Mark was in such a state. “I meant anything to eat that might have been rancid or past its expiration.”

Mark went to answer but stopped to dry heave instead. Watney was tired of throwing up. He worked hard to restore calories to his body and throwing them up was only setting him back. “No.” He spit into the toilet. “Nothing smelled bad or tasted strange.”

Chris went through the symptoms presented in his head. Muscle cramps, vomiting and chills. Those three together could have been an assortment of problems. Remove a fever and the list dwindled. Beck glanced down at Mark and tilted his head in thought. “Mark…” He started as the gears in his head turned. “Have you felt particularly irritated or anxious today?”

It took a moment for the response. “Yeah.”

“Anything else noteworthy?” Beck asked, trying to get more pieces of the puzzle. It was difficult to sort out symptoms of a disease from problems he could be experiencing from the stress of Mars.

“Uhm,” Mark thought for a moment. “I mean, everything is agitating me today. More than usual. I’ve felt restless from just laying around for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep. Nothing new.”

“But have those been worse lately?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Beck nodded and hummed. He pondered for a bit longer.

“So…?” The Commander tried prompting. “Any ideas?”

“I have one theory.” Beck looked down at Watney who was staring back at him. They weren’t going to like the answer.  “Yeah, I think I know what might be wrong.”  

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 701 (3)

So yeah… accidentally got myself addicted to pain medication. Maybe dipping potatoes in crushed Vicodin wasn’t the best idea in retrospect. It seemed pretty irrelevant at the time. I guess I’ll explain for the record. I’m going to assume this started when I hurt my back hauling rocks. I did my best to tend to the injury but with no doctors it was difficult. I self-medicated with Vicodin when I couldn’t just lay around. Which was just about all the damn time. I had to save my own life! With the Rover mods, the trip to Schiaparelli and the MAV mods I didn’t have time to let my back heal properly. Since I didn’t have that luxury, I took Vicodin instead. I guess I should have kept track of how much I was taking and how often I was taking it.

I'm sure you're wondering why the symptoms of withdrawal didn’t show up sooner. It's because of the dihydrocodeine shots. The ones Beck was giving me for my broken ribs. He didn’t stop giving me those until about two days ago. Then all a sudden, no pain medication. My body was like ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’. To get revenge it decided to be a bitch and go through withdrawal. This is a rather awkward situation and I’m not sure how to handle it. The connotation that comes with addiction is a negative one. I didn’t take all that Vicodin because I wanted to get high. I took it so I could survive. I want to make it clear that I didn’t take that medicine because I’m a junkie or something. I just wanted to get off Mars.

Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

It took a bit of effort to get Mark back to his room. Vogel and Martinez did their best to help him. They had to stop when it seemed that Mark was in a lot of pain and once so he could get sick. Luckily, due to the increased risk of space sickness, Hermes had barf bags everywhere. Once he was finally back in bed, Beck sat with him for a little while. The doctor joined the rest of the crew in Rec once he finished up. They were all expecting him, wanting to know whatever information they could.

“How did this happen?” Commander Lewis asked. Beck told them his theory once they were all together. To say everyone had a look of surprise would have been an understatement. Yet, it was just a theory until Beck sat down with Mark and he explained the Vicodin use.

Beck shrugged. “It happened slowly. Mark hurt his back on Mars but without a doctor to prescribe treatment he took that into his own hands. He said that there was a point that he lost track of how much he would take in a day but it mostly varied. Dependent on how bad the pain was in a day. Somedays he wouldn’t take any, others he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have time to let his back heal with us coming to get him. Mark had to finish modifying the rover. He said that he didn’t take as much on the drive to Ares Four. But the amount of physical labor he did in that time was reduced. Then he began taking it again when he had to deconstruct the MAV.”

Everyone shifted in their seats. “And what can we do for him?” Lewis asked.

“Not much we can do. The medical supplies aren’t stocked to deal with withdrawal. It was never something that was planned for. Mark is going to have wait it out.” Beck answered.

“What will that entail?” Lewis continued her questions.

Beck sighed. “Opiate withdrawal is painful. Other than alcohol withdrawal it’s probably one of the worst. Normally, on Earth, you’d be able to help with medicine but again, we don’t have any of that. It’s going to hurt. His muscles have forgotten what it is like to feel pain. They are over reacting. It’s hard to say what the extent of the detox will be without knowing the amount of drug usage. But it’s pretty easy to guess. He hurt his back in the early stages of Rover modifications, before he even left for Ares Four. I’m going to estimate he was self-medicating for about a year.”

There was an uneasiness that coated the room. No one knew what to say.

“I would like to point out,” Beck continued. “That I don’t think we are in danger of him being a drug user. There has been no signs of him being an addict. No uncontrollable urge to use. His behavior isn’t that of an addict. It’s of someone in pain that needs our help. This is going to be tricky. This is day one of withdrawal. We can expect symptoms to last about a week. The first two days will be the worst. After that the brunt of it will pass. The major problems that we have to be wary of is that withdrawal can cause anxiety, paranoia and depression. All things that Mark is already at a high risk for developing because of his experience on Mars. It is going to be a sensitive time and we will all have to make sure we are there for him.” Beck looked over his comrades, then to the Commander. “Do you want us to sit with him again?”

Lewis considered the suggestion. She shook her head. “No, not constantly. At least not right away. Knowing Mark, he isn’t going to want anyone around while he’s going through the worst of it. We’ll check on him, make sure he is doing okay. Other than that we’ll keep our distance for the first few days. From earlier it seemed like having people around only increased his agitation. We want to keep that to a minimum.”

The crew fidgeted, looked at each other in sideways glances. They were trying to put themselves in Mark’s situation. To imagine the hardships to go through to end up in such a state. To them a back injury would have been a simple but annoying problem. Go to the doctor, get a treatment, take time off work and be good as new. Without doctors or the ability to take workers compensation, Mark had no choice but to continue through the pain. Adding another difficulty to the never ending list of problems that Mark had to deal with on Mars.

“What should we expect from the detox?” Lewis asked getting back to the heart of the matter. It wasn’t really a question that Beck wanted to answer.

“Hard to say. There are dozens of symptoms a person can experience going through withdrawal. We can expect him to have hard time.” It was the truth. Honesty that the crew deserved. That Mark deserved but he didn’t need to be told that he would be in pain. He was experiencing it.

“But can we help curb the symptoms?” Martinez was the one to ask the question. He was concerned for his friend. The only other time he had seen Mark in such a state of distress was when he got into a fight with a pick-up truck on his motorcycle. And lost. Even then he was still cracking jokes and hitting on the nurses as they set his broken arm.

That was another question that Beck didn’t want to answer. “I can help with some of them. The vomiting and nausea but I don’t want to give him anything to stop the pain. Mostly because he needs to expel the drugs from his body not be given more.” Beck pinched in temples between his fingers. “But it should only be two days like this. Then we can assess where to go from there.” There was a collective nod.

“Just can’t seem to catch a break.” Vogel commented, voicing what everyone was thinking.

Mark laid supine in bed. He stared at the ceiling. Taking steady breaths he did his best to work through the urge to throw up. The pain seemed to be magnifying instead of lessening. He twisted, turned and curled up. Laying still hurt, moving hurt. Everything hurt. “Life cycle of a gymnosperm. Flowering body with an anther and ovary leads to meiosis of… wait. No. That’s an angiosperm.” He tried to keep his mind busy, focusing on anything else than himself. “Fuck it, who cares.” Mark grimaced and exhaled. “Eucharis, Dicentra spectabilis, Dianthus, Hyacinthus, Syringa.”

“What are you doing?” The Commander’s voice interrupted him.

Mark sat up quickly. “Holy shit, Commander.” He put his hand over his pounding heart and took deep breaths in his nose and out his mouth. “I’m still not used to people being around, so if you could just give a warning next time.” He said glancing over his shoulder to Lewis in the doorway. He followed her as she walked into the room and took a seat on the edge of his cot.

“Sorry, sorry. There is a lot to remember.” She admitted as she looked down at her hands. Mark fell back into his pillows. His heart rate getting back to normal.

“It’s fine.” He said quietly.

“But what were you doing?” She asked again.

“What?”

“You were listing something.”

“Oh, that.” Mark pulled the blankets up to his chin and did the best to mask the pain from his features. “I was listing flowers. I had this professor in grad school that gave half a point extra credit for each type you could list in the botanical name.” He closed his eyes. “I memorized so many I passed my final exam with listing about sixty of them.” He smiled. “I wasn’t the best at Advanced Ethnobotany.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Lewis commented as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

Mark’s smile faded to a smirk as he turned to his other side. “The professor was pretty attractive. Didn’t help my focus.”

“Now that I can believe.”

Watney laughed but quickly stopped as he bared his teeth. “Come to tell me anything exciting?” He asked cracking one eye open before blinking both open.

Lewis nodded but waited before talking. “There’s not much we can do for you. Beck says you are going to have sweat it out. But the worst of it should only last about two days.” There was nothing new to tell him that Beck wouldn’t have informed him of earlier.

“Oh, only two days? Good. I’ll probably die before then so that’s okay.” 

The Commander frowned. “Don’t say that. You’re going to get through this. You’ve gotten through what I’m going to assume is worse than this. And you don’t have to be alone this time.”

Mark had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Well aware that he wasn’t alone anymore. A fact that everyone felt compelled to remind him of. “If you don’t mind I think I’d rather be alone this time around.”

Lewis looked at him sideways. “Any reason why?” She didn’t really need an answer. She asked more out of curiosity than anything.

“Honestly? Because I might cry. This is literally the worst pain ever. And I don’t get anything to help for it.” Standing carefully, Lewis moved from the edge of the bed. She smoothed out her jump suit as she turned to look down at him. She wasn’t sure what to say. Silence passed. “Y’know, Mars is a pretty appropriate name.” Mark stated. Melissa raised her eyebrow. “I’ve been at nothing but war with that damn planet since Sol 6.” The botanist stared off, at nothing in particular. His gaze unfocused.

Lewis looked at the ground, she licked her lips. “Get some sleep, Watney.” She said softly before leaving him. She stood outside the door, out of view. Lewis waited and heard Mark’s muted whimpers. Swallowing the lump in her throat she moved away to give him the privacy he desired.  

Chapter Text

June 9, 2037
Houston, Texas

To say things had calmed down on Earth after Hermes executed one of the most daring maneuvers in the history of NASA would have been a lie. The media attention only increased. Everyone wanted to know the status of the Ares III crew. Most importantly, people wanted to know how Mark Watney was doing. The entire world spent months dedicating their lives to the rescue of one man. To end the story with the Mars rescue wasn’t enough. It seemed that the reporters were extra rabid. Annie Montrose had to lock herself in her office some days to get any work done. People wanted answers and knew that they were easier to get. Communication with Hermes was in perfect condition. Except for the delay anything could be sent to and from the space ship. People wanted pictures, video conferencing and live interviews with Mark Watney. All things that the Public Relations team of NASA promised would happen soon enough.

The main issue that every department head in NASA was dealing with was funding. They had managed to acquire the money to save Watney but Congress was neglectful to provide more. The politicians wanted Mark home before another project started. They wanted the committee that was set in place to see if this situation could have been avoided to make their decision. Problem was, dozens of things happening at the space agency required immediate attention. Things that required money. Several projects were looted to provide help for the rescue. A fact that no one complained about. Everyone pitched together to save Mark Watney and it paid off. He was on his way home. But if that cost included shutting down several long term projects, was it still worth it?

Everyone that worked night and day on the Iris probes, solving the issues of communication with Mark took time off. All the employees that dedicated their lives for the better part of the last year were given vacation. Not only because they deserved it but because the pay for regular hours wasn’t there. It was still paid vacation, but no over time or bonuses were included. They had all padded their wallets nicely with the overtime compensation. It wasn’t apparent how many people worked on saving Watney until they were all gone. Houston, JPL and Cape Canaveral all seemed abandoned in the weeks that followed. Most vacations were staggered but the sheer amount of people absent was haunting.

Except for essential personnel, the Johnson Space Center was quiet. Teddy Sanders looked out over the expanse through his office window. He had never seen the parking lot so empty. During holidays, weekends and even weather emergencies it was difficult to find a parking space. (Luckily something Teddy didn’t have to deal with since he had a reserved spot.) Despite the work force being on vacation, the work load hadn’t decreased. The Director of NASA was still incredibly busy. Writing emails, doing daily interviews and dealing with Congress as they griped and moaned about funding.

There was a knock at his door, Annie let herself in before being acknowledged. She plopped down in the seat across from his desk. Her appearance was well maintained but there was an undeniable look of exhaustion hovering under the persona she held. “What can I do for you Annie?” Teddy asked when it became clear that she wasn’t going to start talking right away.

“This is fucking bullshit.” She started in her usual callous manner. “I mean, I have reporters fighting each other to get interview time. And do you know what sort of questions they are asking?” She paused but not long enough for him to guess. “They are asking things like, ‘What are the chances of something going wrong on the trip home?’ or ‘Now that Watney is saved what is NASA going to do? There is nothing they can do better than this.’ It’s ridiculous. It’s as if everyone wanted to save Watney from Mars only to have the entire crew die on the way home. People are morbid as fuck.” She shook her head as her phone buzzed. Annie glanced at the screen and ignored the message. “You have to do something about this. People are picking up on the fact that Congress is hesitant to fund us anything until Hermes gets home. That’s six and half months away. We can’t just shut down everything for that long, Teddy.” Annie pointed out, despite the Director being painfully aware of that fact. “We do more than just go to space.” She added.

“I know, I know.” Sanders finally chimed in. He straightened the items on his desk. “Well, you’re in charge of PR. What do you suggest we do? Have you heard anything about Watney lately?”

Annie shook her head. “The last update we got from Commander Lewis about a week and half ago. It wasn’t anything we wanted to publish. Night terrors, high fever and pneumonia? Great headlines.” She said sarcastically. “We have to convince the media that all is well.” She crossed her arms and sunk back into the seat.

“Then go get another update. Probably about time that we hear from Hermes, anyway.” Teddy suggested. Annie pondered for a moment.

“Fine.” She stood from the chair. “I will.” The Media Relations Director turned on her heel and left the Administrator’s office. Teddy was slightly worried what she would do but trusted her judgement none the less.

Annie made her way across the large compound that was the space center. She got distracted by a phone call from her media team that required some choice words to set straight. She finally made it to the command center. It was midday and only every other seat had an occupant. “Man,” Annie started as she stopped next to Mitch Henderson. “People really took ‘take an immediate vacation’ seriously.” Her eyes glanced about the room. The only time she ever saw Mission Control so empty was third shift. Even then, it seemed livelier.

Henderson glanced sideways at her. He shifted his stance, his feet sore from standing but his back hurt from sitting. “Yeah. I should have taken mine these last few weeks. But I opted for the later choice.” Mitch was also slightly worried that if he took time off immediately he’d come back to no job. “What can I do for you Annie?” The Flight Director asked.

“I need to talk to Hermes. Specifically, Mark.” She answered.

Mitch raised a brow. “No one other than Mark’s parents have talked to Mark. Don’t think Watney is in a chatty mood.” Henderson offered. Everything was going smooth with the trip home. In terms of space flight. After numerous checks on the VAL and other systems, they were cleared for a successful trip. Save for any other issues that might arise. Houston’s job was decently easy for the return ride.

“I don’t really care who has or hasn’t talked to him. I need to. The fate of NASA depends on it!” She exclaimed with a toss of her hands.

“The fate of NASA?” Mitch questioned.

“Oh you know what I mean. I need Mark to send a video or something home. We need to show the public and specifically, Congress, that Mark is doing well. We need to provide evidence that he’s in good health. That spending all that money rescuing him wasn’t for not.”

“But according to Lewis he’s not in good health.” Mitch pointed out.

“I fucking know that.” Annie snapped back. “We’ll Photoshop the video or something. Make him look… well. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. He sighed.

“Well, you can contact Hermes all you want. But it’s not up to me if you get to talk to Watney.”

“Good enough for me.” The pair walked down the aisle and slipped through the seats to CAPCOM’s station. Once the link was connected, the employee looked up at the Media Relations Director. “Ask Hermes if Mark is available to talk too. Tell them it is urgent.”

Typing quickly, the operator had the message ready and sent. It was an excruciating wait. Twelve minutes there, twelve back. Plus the time it took to gather the answer and write the response. In all, it took thirty-two minutes for the reply. It displayed on one of the large screens at the front of the room.

HRM: He’s indisposed. Can relay message.

Annie frowned. Indisposed didn’t bode well. She had the CAPCOM employee type out the next message. Explaining how she needed a video to show to the public that he was at least coping well with being rescued. How it was important to NASA and the future of all space projects. Annie hoped to appeal to the side of Mark that appreciated the value of space travel. Assuming he still had that side of him.

HRM: He says: “No.”

They had waited forty-nine minutes for that answer. “No?!” Annie exclaimed. Her voice almost booming over the humming of the computers and gentle typing. A few people flinched at her outburst. “Why? Ask why.” She shoved the shoulder of the man sitting at the desk. The delay for the response was dreadful, but came sooner than Annie expected.

HRM: He says: “Because I don’t f—king want to right now. Okay?” He then used a lot of other colorful ways to tell you and all of NASA to F off. He really isn’t doing well at the moment. Maybe this can happen later?

The strong response only caused them to worry about what Mark was going through at that moment. Annie tapped her foot out of habit. She needed something to work with. The media was getting antsy which caused rumors to start. Rumors lead to ridiculous tabloids. Tabloids lead to legitimate news outlets to discussing the topic. Usually it was talked about as ‘outlandish’ and ‘wild’. But people took merit from what the major new stations had to offer. Even if the headline for the night was ridiculous. CNN, MSNBC, FOX and other news stations wouldn’t just fill their airtime with baseless stories. Or so the public assumed. Annie knew better. She didn’t want to have to clean up a PR disaster if it could be averted. She brought a hand through her hair. “Ask if he could send a statement. A paragraph or two. About anything. Anything happy. I’m sure whatever shit he’s going through there has been a happy moment. I will take anything.” Annie stressed. “He can send it to my email.” The message was sent. Over an hour passed before the response arrived.

HRM: He says: “Okay.” But you owe him a beer when he gets home.

Annie sighed. She had been worried that Watney wouldn’t do it. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Not like I’m trying to make sure he had a job when he gets home but okay. A beer it is.” She shook her head. “Thanks, Mitch.” He nodded silently to her before she left the command center to head to her office. She only hoped that Mark would be timely with his email. It took a few hours but she finally got it. She was pleased that it was a decently long and sincere response. Annie was relieved. She might be able to divert NASA derailing for another few weeks. She wrote an article to be published in the next day’s press release.

Jun. 10, 2037

NASA Posts Update for Hermes, Includes Personal Thank You from Mark Watney

The world celebrated a great success two and half weeks ago. Rescuing Mark Watney from Mars was a moment in history that won’t soon be forgotten. Public interest in NASA and the Ares Program is at an all-time high. Due to the heroic feats of the Ares III crew to save Mark Watney. The world witnessed his rescue live and are still invested in the well-being of the crew. Especially that of Watney. After the dramatic rescue the ship is reporting no malfunctions or errors. It is in peak condition for the trip home. The crew has 193 days remaining of their journey. Putting their arrival back to Earth at just before Christmas. Quite the present for Mark’s family.

With how busy the crew is with the return home, Watney managed to find the time to compose an open letter to everyone involved in rescuing him from Mars.

Hello All,

I cannot begin to express my deepest gratitude to everyone that supported my rescue. I am very well aware of the time, manpower and funds dedicated to the sole purpose of bringing me home. It is because of all of you that I am alive to write this message. To see another day. I am looking forward to the end of this trip so I can finally get back to Earth. That way I can take the time to thank everyone in person. I know that I won’t be able to shake hands or hug the entire population of Earth. So this is for you. For the people that were there to show support in ways that might go unappreciated. Please know that I am taking the time to read everything sent to me. The sheer amount of messages is astronomical. I have been shown the media response to the rescue effort. I have never been so moved.

It is an odd thing, being alone. Something that you don’t have to be stranded on an entire planet to experience. Thousands of people a day have that feeling. Sometimes all it takes is one well thought out message to remind you that there are people that care for you. There were times that I felt that getting of Mars wasn’t an option. But after reading the emails that I was sent, I was reminded that there is a bigger cause out there than just rescuing me. My survival wasn’t just for me. That it was for everyone back on Earth. Living became a symbol of hope and perseverance for all human-kind. I received several personal messages from individuals. People that confessed that they weren’t sure if they could make it one more day. People that looked to my situation and saw that if I can live another Sol they could live another day. My survival became their mascot.

This letter is to everyone that helped me survive. To everyone that I helped survive. We are in this together. If you all continue being strong, I know that I can. And we will all be that symbol of hope and perseverance.  

Thank you to every last one of you,

Mark Watney. 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 706

That was five days of hell. Beck said that after the first two days the pain would subside. Well, I’m here to say that Beck is a damn liar. It took about three days to go away. I would have rather rolled over a bed of Legos. The pain still isn’t gone but it isn’t as bad. Didn’t eat any solid food for the last five days. My diet consisted completely of protein shakes. Of course, switching to a complete liquid diet has its own downfalls. Ones I’d rather not go into. So day six. I’m out of the woods as Beck has said but it’s still going to be difficult for a little while. With eating and for the pain to go away completely. Which, now that the majority of the drugs have worked out of my system it has only revealed more problems. Like my back still hurts like a bitch. That doesn’t surprise me. I never actually fixed the problem, just masked the symptoms. Beck is going to do an MRI at some point to get a better look.

The crew has been scarce since this all started. They promised to stop by but generally have kept their distance. I’m going to do my best to assume that’s because they have been busy. Not because they don’t want to deal with my problems. But y’know, withdrawal causes increased anxiety. And boy, do they mean increased. I’ve been overthinking everything. Everyone hates me for ruining things. I should have just stayed on Mars. I’m just being needy and there isn’t that much wrong with me. Ha! This is great. I feel like I’m going crazy. Because I know none of that is true. I know it. Just a shame my brain has been convinced otherwise. All the extra anxiety has left me a bit agitated but I’m working on that.

On Mission Day 704, Lewis came to me saying that NASA needed me to make a video for them. A fucking video. Because the public needs to see that I’m doing okay. Well, two things wrong with that problem. First, I’m not going to make a damn video looking like this.  No way in hell. Maybe when I’ve gained weight back and don’t look like a wreck. I don’t care if the general public sees it but I don’t want my parents to see. I know they're worried about me. Seeing their son looking like the living embodiment of death wouldn’t help that. Second problem, I’m not doing okay. Sure, I’m thankful as hell I got rescued but I mean come on. I’m curious how people on Earth are delusional enough to think I’d be okay after being on Mars for a year and half. With barely any food.

Then, Annie comes back asking if I’d write some sort of… letter. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t. I was still in a decent amount of pain and generally in a piss poor mood because of that. But then Lewis, being all Commander like, suggested that I do it. She said it in a way that I wouldn’t have to if I didn’t want too but the implication was to do it. Not a direct order but if I didn’t do I’m guessing I would have heard about it later. I might be a bit of a sorry sight at the moment but I’m still under Lewis’ command and an order is and order. So, I did it.

At first I was just going to send Annie an email that said go fuck yourself. We’re friends, she would have gotten over it. But then I thought about it. Thought about all the people that helped get me to this point. They would want to know how I was doing. Good or not. I decided to not tell them about everything I was going through, that’ll all come out later. Then as I was writing the damn letter I started feeling better. My mood lifted, I was happier. Part of being an astronaut is getting to help people. It may not be a direct influence but we do try are best. So I wrote it for everyone I could. Turns out it helped me too. I’m sure that’s some sort of therapeutic technique. But whatever.

Just for clarification, I wrote the letter because I needed too. Not because NASA needed me to do it. I wrote it because I wanted people to know that their support is still important and still helping.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 706 (2)

Okay, MRI complete. You think the ones on Earth a little. Try laying still in one on a spaceship where real-estate is already precious enough. The only reason we have one is to do bone density studies. Lucky me. Beck diagnosed the issue with fancy medical terminology. But I can’t remember what he said. Long story short, I fucked up my back. It is what normal people would call a herniated disc. If I don’t strain the injury again, I’ll be able to avoid surgery. Which is good since the medical equipment on Hermes isn’t that sophisticated. I’d have to wait until Earth. I can only imagine reentry with a messed up back. Good thing we have some time to fix it.

Speaking of fixing it, the treatment is pretty simple. Anti-inflammatories and physical therapy. With some pain medication. Only like Tylenol. Beck is hesitant to give me anything stronger. He’s worried about the addiction thing. Personally, I think he’s over reacting but I can’t blame him. Brain chemistry is a tricky thing. Two subjects I’m not qualified to make an opinion. Chemistry and brain nonsense. Until I get cleared by a certified Brain Chemist (or a psychologist, which ever you prefer to call it). It’s Tylenol for me.

PATIENT NAME: Watney, Mark R.
DOB: 10/12/1994
POB: Chicago, IL, USA

Mission Day 706/June 11 2037

TP: 37.4 BP: 119/76 WEIGHT: N/A BF%: 7.2% (Healthy Range: 10-12%)

NOTES:

- Blood work shows iodine levels returning back to normal range. Cause assumed to be deficiency in iodine reuptake from perchlorate in Martian soil

- Fluid in lungs mostly cleared out, airways sound healthy

- Pain level manageable, withdrawal symptoms subsiding on assumed schedule

- Possible signs of longer lasting traumas (PTSD)

- Anxious about VAL despite –

“Do you have to write everything down?” Mark asked, interrupting himself. Beck had cornered Watney earlier and sat him down for a talk. Mark didn’t like the sound of it but he didn’t have anything else better to do at that moment.

The doctor looked up from his tablet. “I have to send a report back soon.” Beck commented as he finished his sentence. He looked up to see Mark making an uncomfortable expression. “You know how NASA works, Mark. We can’t just do what we want without talking to them.” Mark stared deadpan at Chris. The doctor shifted, realizing what he said. He cleared his throat. “Look, I held off sending them an update. You needed my help more than they needed to know what was going on right away.” Beck started explaining. “But I just can’t not tell them what has happened.” Mark didn’t say anything. He understood what Beck had to do and why. That didn’t mean he had to like it. “They will understand, Mark.” Chris stated softly. “No one is going to judge for what you had to do to stay alive.” The botanist refused to make eye contact. Beck leaned to the side in his chair. “You know that right?”

Watney finally looked at the doctor. He nodded once. A majority of him understood that. Just like a majority of the people on Earth would understand that. But humanity was a fickle thing. There would be people that would always take the worse from a situation. Make it seem like taking the Vicodin wasn’t just to stay alive. “Yeah. What else do you want to know?”

Looking at his tablet, Chris waited. The medical file that he had been compiling over the last few weeks was growing. The addition today was just the tip of the iceberg. “Just one more question.” Beck hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t one he wanted to ask but one that he had too. “Did you take the Vicodin on purpose?”

Mark raised his brow. “Yeah, Beck. I did.” He answered with a bit of a smile.

“No, I mean…”

Watney immediately picked up on what the doctor was asking. “Oh, I see.” Mark shook his head. His faint smile long gone. “I didn’t need the Vicodin to kill me, Beck.” He got to his feet. Annoyed that Chris didn’t know him better. It just another indication of how everything had changed since his abandonment. “I had the whole damn planet of Mars to take care of that for me.” Mark looked down at Beck. “You can tell NASA that too. Verbatim.” With that he left Beck’s quarters.

Despite the weakness that persisted from malnutrition, Mark was able to easily navigate Hermes. It was as if he had never left. He made it from the crew’s quarters to the Rec for an early dinner. With his meal prepared he took a seat and stared at the food. His back was killing him. A pain that radiated from the thoracic region down his legs and up to his shoulders. It was a cruel reward. Survive Mars only to have a myriad of mental and physical problems. Mark took a few bites of dinner. He considered the amount of effort it was going to take to get back to the condition he was in before leaving Earth. A goal that felt unattainable. He sighed.

He wanted one thing to go right. One thing to change. Getting over the pneumonia helped but the illness seemed to be replaced with another one. Ones that would need more than an antibiotic to cure. Setting his fork to the side, Mark buried his face into his hands. He stayed that way for a while. Long enough to hear someone enter the Rec but he didn’t bother to look who it was. He felt the presence join him across the table. After another moment Mark lifted his head just enough to peek through his fingers. Lewis had joined him. Dropping his hands away, Mark sat up straight. As straight as his ailing back would allow him. “Commander.” He acknowledged her.

“Watney.” She replied before beginning the meal she prepared. Mark watched her eat for a moment.

“What all does NASA know?” He asked just as she took another bite. Mark had to wait for her to finish chewing.

“I think they know quite a bit. Quite a large organization.” Lewis quipped. Usually, the sarcastic remark would have been appreciated. At the moment Mark found it tedious.

“I mean about me. About everything that has happened. How often do you send them updates?” The NASA nannies never stopped bothering them. It was only natural. Flying through space was dangerous and being in constant communication with Earth was key.

“Every day. Sometimes twice a day depending on what happens.”

“And that’s just about me?”

“Sometimes.”

Mark nodded. He didn’t know why but it felt like a major invasion of his privacy. “What was the last thing you told them?”

Melissa shrugged. “The usual. Updates about Hermes. That you are in decent spirits and eager to start working again. However I have made the decision to keep you off active duty. Longer now that it seems that your back is still injured.”

“And the Vicodin problem?”

“That is for Beck to inform them of. But I wouldn’t call it a problem. A snag, maybe.” She could tell he worried. How management was going to perceive the idea of one of their astronauts addicted to opiates. Drug use within the agency was grounds for termination. “No one is going to judge you for that.”

“That’s what Beck said.” Mark stated as he picked up his fork to continue eating. “Just not so sure how right he is. Or you.” His food had grown cold but he didn’t want to get up and reheat it. Lewis reached across the table, setting her hand in front of him to get Mark’s attention. He looked up.

“If someone is going to judge you for doing what it took to survive, I will personally kick their ass.” There was no indication that she was joking in her voice. “I know for a fact that everyone on this ship is going to defend your actions, Mark. Including you. No one can judge you for what you went through because no one was there to form judgements. So if people want to have nasty opinions then we’ll take care of them.” She pulled her hand away. “And not just us. I’m sure Ares One and Two will be on board to help. They know what is like to be on Mars. The entire rest of the world doesn’t.” She waited a beat. “And the entire world doesn’t know what it is like to be alone on Mars. So you know what,” She waited until Mark was looking at her. “Fuck them.”

A grin broke out on Mark’s face. The commander never cursed. He knew it bothered her how much he chose to pepper his vocabulary with profanity. But she never said anything about it. Lewis choosing to cuss was monumental. “Fuck them.” Mark repeated. It was of course, easier said than done. A passing moment of reassurance. With increased moments of reassurance, Mark could be convinced that things would be okay. The two continued to eat as the rest of the crew filtered in for dinner. Martinez joined the table next to Mark, Vogel on the other side. Beck and Johanssen had a seat next to one another on the opposite side.

Within minutes they were joking around, laughing and carrying on. Mark smiled both outward and inward. The last few days had been awful. He needed to hear the repeated story about Martinez managing to convince Vogel that Americans were awarded a Bald Eagle after acts of valor.

“It just sounds like something your country would do!” Always the response that the German provided. One that made everyone laugh more.

“You are a grown man, Vogel!” Martinez replied. Almost crying from laughter. Eventually it was Mark that broke the news. Informing the chemist that Martinez was full of shit. Watney appreciated the prank. But he wanted to see the outcome of Alex finding out he had been misinformed. It was worth it. A string of incomprehensible German followed by Vogel going to find Martinez. Mark was sure to get it all on camera. It was one of the most viewed YouTube videos for the trip to Mars.

It was moments like this that Mark would think about when depression hit on Mars. Even at the worst times the thought of his crew could lift his spirits. They were the reason he was alive. Not just because they came back and saved him. Mark worked every problem, solved issues the best he could because of them. For them. It was what astronauts did. To honor his crew Mark survived on Mars. To keep that respect going he would continue to work problems as they arose. No matter how difficult or painful survival seemed to be. He had a lot to live for.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 707

I’ve generally convinced myself that the Vicodin won’t become a future issue. I just hope that all my actions on Mars aren’t investigated under a stern eye. In the fifth grade I had this teacher that took everything wrong. One day I got in a fight. (I wasn’t a perfect child so don’t judge). The fight lasted exactly point two seconds. This kid shoved me into a bank of lockers. I turned around and punched him in the face.  Little fifth grade me thought it was the right response. Until this much larger kid punched back and I landed flat on my ass with a bloody nose. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I even hurt the kid. Beside the point. Point is, the two of us got sent to the principal’s office. Our teacher had to be there since she was the one that broke up the “fight”.

Here I am, blood gushing from my nostrils, a blackening eye, sitting there taking it like a man. Ready for whatever punishment I’m going to get. The instigator, however, is crying and blaming me for the whole thing! So, I’m the one that gets in the most trouble! (Even though I am the injured party.) That kid got off with a warning and a candy bar. I got sent home early with a week of detention. All because Mrs. Quinn (the teacher) took his side! She listened to his blatant lies while everything I said was ignored. She also decided to make my story worse. Picking out previous incidents I had with bad behavior. All lies.

The principal agreed with the teacher and I got in trouble. All because no one would listen to what I had to say. Fifth grade me was furious. (I found out later the bully was Mrs. Quinn’s nephew. Knew she played favorites.)

What I’m trying to get at is, I hope people listen to me. I need people to understand my side of the story and the reasons I did what I did on Mars. The things I had to go through to stay alive. My decisions were ones that wouldn’t have been made if an alternative was available. Like would I have really taken the risk of dying with Hydrazine if water was just available out on the surface? The answer is no, I wouldn’t have. Everything I did was done because I had to do it. There is no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism. Sort of like learning symbolism in high school. The teacher tries to make this abstract idea of why the author made the main character’s jacket red. Sometimes, the jacket was just fucking red.

I did what I did to live. Nothing else.

Side note, I started physical therapy with Beck today. It was a lot of stretches and simple exercises. Me generally cursing and telling him I’ll get him back for this. He laughed, but he’ll see. I’m going to take a hot shower. I wish I could take a bath again. Man, I miss that RTG. So versatile.

Mark dressed after his shower. He only used the allotted ten minutes. It was difficult to shut the water off and get out of the hot stream but he forced himself. His excuses for using more time than allowed time were running low. Unless it was a critical reason, he resigned to the ten minutes.

Pulling a sweater on, Mark stopped and looked in the mirror. His physical appearance was improving every day. Even with the setbacks of pneumonia and withdrawal. He looked better than the day he was rescued. His skin healed of all the sores, cuts and bruises that persisted while on Mars. The sickly pallor had receded and his skin tone was normal. Weight was returning, filling out his skeletal appearance. With the introduction of the light exercise, he felt great. The improvements in his physical state helped wonders with his state of mind. Mark still had nightmares and quiet panic attacks now and then but he was learning to handle them.

Importantly, he wasn’t handling them alone. The crew was aware these happened. After they all were conscious of that, they were able to help with prevention, if possible. Most of the time, the increased anxiety wasn’t anything that could be helped. Just something Mark had to deal with.

The physical therapy had started early. Mark was thankful for that. It put him on a schedule. Before he was left to his own devices to do as he wanted. Sleep and eat when he felt like it. The therapy was only in the morning but it put some routine back into his day. It was lunch time. Mark hadn’t joined the entire crew for a meal for the last few days. He hadn’t spoken to any of them, other than Beck and Lewis, for an extended time either. Despite being on the same spaceship he missed them all. There was an easy fix for that. To join them for lunch.

As Mark approached the Rec he heard their voices and laughs float around. He smiled to himself. They were all close. A fact that he was thankful for every day. If they hadn’t been as much like a family, they might not have made the choice to save him. Watney was sure that he would never be able to repay them for that.

Turning backwards he descended the ladder until the artificial gravity took hold. He grabbed each rung carefully until he was on the ground.  His presence didn’t stop anyone from talking or laughing. They didn’t even look to see who joined. Only because Mark was the last to make the appearance for lunch. (And who else was there?) Watney licked his lips and took a few steps to stand at the head of the table. Everyone looked up to him. Mark shifted.

“Okay, going to make this quick. And let me finish before any one tries to interrupt.” The botanist started. “I want to apologize for my behavior last week.” Simultaneously, everyone tried to chime in but Mark stopped them. “I know you are going to say I don’t have to. But I want to. I was jerk. I understand that the situation had a lot to do with it but that didn’t give me the right to yell at you. I need you guys and I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you. I uh,” Mark stopped to clear his throat. His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably owe you all some sort of account of what happened on Mars. And I will tell you all. One day. I’m just not ready to deal with all that yet.”

There was nothing more Mark wanted than to share his experience, his hardships and discoveries. Despite being a traumatic experience it was an amazing one. Made even more so because he was rescued. Mark was glad that his logs were also recovered. It almost didn’t happen. They couldn’t be sent through Pathfinder. The quality of data was too high for the antiquated probe. But Mark uploaded the logs to Ares IV MAV during the deconstruction. When Hermes made contact with the MAV the logs were uploaded. A fact that he was thankful for because he had recorded everything he did on Mars in those logs. From his thoughts for the day to the math equations he worked out to use for survival. Not all of them were interesting or thought provoking but all important. That also meant that Watney didn’t have to rely on memory alone for explanations later.  Mark considered just letting the crew read the logs but they still lacked a personal aspect. They had been written to explain science. Sure, there were a few where he went on tangents and complained. But generally they were for research purposes. They lacked emotion.

Watney could have easily written about how he wished he could be on Hermes or back on Earth. He could have explained how he felt that day, what he was thinking. The logs could have detailed the many existential moments he had. But to Mark, those weren’t the important details that needed recorded. He wrote the log with the assumption that it would be his only connection back to humanity. Even if he wasn’t there to give it back. He wanted people to know how he survived not how he felt. Mark would have written a diary if that had been the case. But a diary wouldn’t have advanced science or mankind’s understanding of Mars. A diary only would have allowed people to know what he had been thinking. Psychologists might have been able to use it. Get a peek into the mind of a man isolated on a planet alone. That wasn’t the science Mark was into. How to grow crops on Mars, turn Hydrazine into water in a Hab, modify a Rover, patch a leaky airlock and revive a broken probe is what Mark wanted people to know about. With the occasional griping about disco music.

That was what he wanted people to know assuming he didn’t get rescued. As soon as he was saved from the Red Planet, the information that he had to share changed. The scientific expertise he had acquired would be a wealth of information. People, researchers and academics would likely want to pick his brain for years to come. Now, there was the emotional side. A portion of the story Mark would never have needed to explain if his crew hadn’t come back for him. People asking about how it felt to be alone on an entire planet was inevitable. Humans are curious about topics they don’t know about. Isolation on a planet is one of them and Mark is the only expert. That wasn’t the only reason he needed to share. He owed his life to several dozen people. And he needed to confide in them about how he had changed. And what made those changes.

However, sharing the emotional side of his stay was just that. Emotional. To relive the feeling of being stranded. Realizing that the likelihood of surviving was beyond pitiful. Despite being saved Mark still thought about how it was nearly impossible that he was rescued. The odds were far out of his favor. If it had been someone else stuck on Mars, Mark would have never placed his bet on that person surviving. There had even been days that he bet against himself. Certain that Mars was going to win. It was always impossible to beat the house and Mark sucked at gambling. Yet, here he was. On his way home. With one of the best underdog stories since Rudy.

It was going to take some convincing on his part to sit down and talk about Mars. To work through all the memories that were associated with the planet. Even his best moments were overshadowed by the looming chance of death. A feeling that he hadn’t the chance to shake. Mark wasn’t completely safe yet. Space travel is dangerous. Especially unplanned space travel. Anything could happen on the trip home and Mark was going over every scenario every day. There wasn’t a second that passed that he wasn’t preparing for something to go wrong. Systematically he went through everything that could malfunction or break down. Watney started the mental checklist as a way to calm himself but it was becoming a compulsion. If he thought he forgot or overlooked something, he’d start the list over. A habit that felt like it was causing more anxiety than it was worth.

Something that could be taken care of if he worked through his emotional problems. Solving issues and puzzles was what he did every day on Mars for 549 sols. But the thought of solving his own issues was a task that he had zero interest in. Despite it being the best thing for him. Mark was well aware that he needed to get out his pent up stress. But he was afraid that talking about it would just cause more. Which is why he hadn’t yet found the courage to tell the crew what it was like to be on Mars. He had long moved pass the worry that they would treat him different. Watney was now worried that he’d treat himself different.

“One day.” Mark repeated, feeling as if he was a million miles away as he talked. He looked to the crew to anchor himself in that moment.

Everyone looked to him. No one said anything for a beat but they all silently nodded. “Whenever you are ready, Mark.” Lewis started, talking for everyone. “We will be ready to listen.” The crew chimed in with comments of agreement and support. Just knowing that they were going to be there for him when he was ready to talk lifted some weight from Mark’s chest.

Watney smiled a bit and nodded. “Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he finally took a seat at the table to join everyone for lunch.

“So, we never did have that movie night.” Johannsen started between bites. “You sure there is nothing you are in the mood to watch?” She asked Watney. His smile grew a bit wider.

“Well… now that you mention it. It’s been far too long since I’ve gotten to see any of the Star Wars movies. And it’ll take a chunk of time to get through all nine of them.”

“You wanna watch all of them?” Beck chimed in, even though he had a mouth full of food.

“I mean, might as well.” Watney responded.

“I’m game.” Martinez agreed. “I know Vogel is too. Just look at him. Never seen a man so ready to watch nine movies in one sitting.” The German had to grin. He did enjoy the franchise.

“Maybe only watch a few at a time.” Lewis added. She wanted the crew to have a good time but not get too distracted from their jobs. “And can we skip the prequels and watch four, five and six first?” The agreement to do so was unanimous from everyone except Beck. Who had to play devil’s advocate for the prequel movies. Everyone groaned. Ultimately it was Watney’s choice and he picked to start with the first one. For the sake of continuity of the storyline. There were more groans, except from Beck. Who fist pumped a few times and whooped with triumph. 

Amused with Beck’s reaction, Mark looked forward to watching the movies with the crew. With the hope that the films would provide a few hours of distraction from the frantic feeling in his head.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 722

It has been a rather uneventful two weeks. Things have returned to some sense of normalcy. Sort of. The physical therapy with Beck has been going well. It’s amazing what a few little exercises can do for an injured back. I’ve reached the point where I can do some of it alone. But as Beck adds increasingly more demanding moves, I just end up back in the gym with him. It’s mildly frustrating. Mentally, I feel like I could do the same amount of physical output as before. Before I was stuck on Mars. Or even while I was stuck there. I did so much work there.  If I had had a good supply of food I’d probably would have left that planet in better shape than when I got there. If you ever need to lose a lot of weight, get yourself left behind on Mars. (I’m one hundred percent kidding, do not do that. And don’t lose weight by starving yourself.)

Since I’m being more active, Beck wants me to eat even more. I swear, I’m gunna end up consuming everything on this ship. Luckily, at this point, I’m pretty close to my target weight. I think about ten pounds off. Stupid lack of gravity making it impossible use a scale. I can tell just by looking at myself though. I’m still pretty thin but not skeletal anymore. If I passed a stranger on the street, they would probably just assume I was a super skinny person. Not someone that was on the brink of death via starvation.

Nothing too exciting has happened. Everyone has been working. I’ve been reading the endless amount of emails sent to me. People are… interesting. A majority of the mail is what one would expect. Support letters and inspirational words. There is, however, a small percentage that I get that is… I am not even sure how to describe it. Some of the emails are from people saying they love me? Then they go on in uncomfortable, explicit detail about what they would do with me. I don’t really know where they got the idea that I wanted to hear that. Or better query, why NASA forwarded them along? They must have reached the point where they just cache everything and send it to Hermes. I mean, I am talking R-rated or worse. The first one I got I was mortified! I was reading it in the Rec with the entire crew around and was so embarrassed. Of course the crew picked up on this. Martinez stole my laptop and started reading the message out loud.

I couldn’t hide in my sweater enough. Everyone was laughing. It didn’t help that Martinez read the entire email. With different voices. Of course, at this point, if I ever get another one like that it becomes the highlight of the day. Martinez reading it out dramatically. The best is when I got one from this girl in Germany. Vogel read it. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in my entire life. 

I apologize to all the people out there sending in these erotic messages. I’m sure your intention was not for the entire crew to get enjoyment out of them. Except, the person that sent the one where everyone was getting enjoyment from everyone. If y’know what I mean.

Anyway, last week, I was cleared to start working on my own botany experiments again. Oh boy! I mean, talk about lifting the spirits! I get to do something with my time again. Sure, working on them doesn’t take all day but it feels great. I’m once again doing what I was sent to space for. Also can’t explain how much I missed my plants. That sounds terribly tacky, but being a botanist I’m going to let it slide. They were well behaved for the rest of the crew while they stepped in for me. But as soon as I was back I could tell they were happier. I know you are laughing reading this, but it’s true! I understand them. Plus, I missed getting to tend to something. It’s been a long time since I lost my potato crops. I get to use science again as well. Major plus there. Sure, I have my procedures and protocols all planned out to follow. It won’t be anything like the on the fly science I was conducting on Mars but it’s better than nothing.

Unless of course, I decide to mix things up with my experiments. Which I very well could do since a lot of them have been rendered invalid. Due to the fact that no Martian soil was brought back to Hermes. With that all true, I just don’t know what sort of ridiculous things I could put my plants through. I’ll give it some time. I’m sure I’ll be able think of something. In the meantime, I’m okay with just getting to do my own experiments again.

It was just after three in the morning. The crew had all passed out hours ago. Mark found it easier to sleep with the daily physical therapy. As well as getting to do light work again. Things were going well. He was close to working up the courage to talk to the crew about Mars. Watney had gone over everything that happened on the rusty, dust covered planet. A task that took longer to accomplish than planned. As there were few things that happened that Mark didn’t want to think about again. But for his and the crew’s sake he had to do it.

At exactly three thirty-five, an alarm blared through Hermes. It was a low, whooping klaxon. One that roused everyone from sleep. Mark blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Trying to get his bearings. Fumbling with his covers, Mark tossed the blankets to the side and got out of bed. The crew all gathered in the hall about the same time.

“What’s happening?” Johanssen asked through a yawn. The alarm was loud. It was one related to the environment systems. Everyone else shrugged. Until they got to the computers to check what was happening, they wouldn’t know. Lewis finished pulling her hair into a tight pony tail.

“Johanssen, get to the main computer and check the system. Beck, get to the auxiliary system in case something happens to the main computers.” Lewis rambled off jobs for everyone. Martinez and Vogel went to retrieve respirators if the situation called for it. Headed off to do their jobs, Mark stayed behind for a moment. He followed the Commander.

“What would you like me to do?” Mark asked as he followed Lewis up the ladder and towards the bridge.

“Just hang back, Mark. We got this.” She said without looking at him. The botanist stopped following her. He floated freely and watched her move away. Instantly, he felt on edge. Being told to do nothing when there was something wrong with the ship. Telling the engineer to sit on the sideline. It bothered him to no end. Instead of going back to his quarters, Watney floated to the bridge. If he wasn’t going to do anything, he wanted to at least know what was going on.

Johanssen had strapped herself into her station and brought up the proper screens. At this point, Martinez and Vogel returned. “Commander,” Vogel started as he waited for her attention. She turned to look at the chemist. “There was an acrid smell coming from one of the generator rooms. It smelled like smoke.” The color drained from Lewis’ face but the hard look of concentration never left.

Smoke meant there could be a fire. Fire was bad. Lewis moved to take a seat next to Johannsen to bring up communications with Earth. NASA wouldn’t be able to help them. There was nothing they could do except offer answers. They had to fix the problem. Unlike the International Space Station, Hermes had no escape boats. If there was a fire onboard it had to be contained, extinguished and the damage repaired.

Mark tensed. Everyone knew how dangerous fire in an enclosed space was. Especially a spaceship. He had firsthand experience with just how devastating an explosion could be. The one in the Hab wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But it was a small window to the amount of damage that could be done. “We need to go investigate, Commander.” Mark offered. There was only the smell of smoke, no visual on an actual fire. Something could have been smoldering. If the fire could be caught before it became an inferno that would take care of the problem.

“I want to wait until we get an exact location on the ship.” She replied, once again not looking at him as she typed at the computer. Mark glanced at Martinez. He looked worried. The entire crew had trained for things like this back on Earth. Countless scenarios and simulations of something catching on fire. They had successfully prevented death and catastrophic failure 99.9% of the time. Save for one failed simulation. Caused by a fire that got out of hand because it wasn’t contained. That simulation ended with four crew dead, one suffering from smoke inhalation and the other with third degree burns.

Upon review of the scenario, it could have been avoided. If the fire had been noticed earlier. Mark couldn’t help but to think of that one failed case. “Commander, I really insist that we go get a visual.” Watney repeated.

Lewis turned in her seat to look at the engineer. “Mark,” She said keeping her voice even. “If you feel the need to help, go assist Beck with the auxiliary system. I’m sure he’d appreciate the assistance.” The two locked eyes and stared. Watney finally broke the gaze, turning to leave in the silence.

Watney reached the interchange. One direction he would go to help Beck. The other was towards the generator rooms that Vogel reported the smell from. He took in a deep breath and could smell the bitter scent. He thought about the hydrazine explosion. He could hear the ringing in his ears. Watney looked over his shoulder to the portion of the crew in the bridge. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind. He headed towards the generators. Sliding down the ladder, he reached the artificial gravity. It was slightly stronger in this section of the ship. He hadn’t been exposed to anything over 0.4 G since returning to Hermes. A gravitational pull that matched Mars. This part of the ship was farther from the center. Thus generated a stronger pull. It was 0.8 G and he could feel the difference. His body felt heavy but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

Vogel didn’t know which room the smell came from. It could have been any of them. There were a few choices that would have been more devastating than others. The reactor was highest ranking. If a fire happened in there, they would be left without power. The worst case scenario. Mark put his hand on each closed door. None of them felt hot. A decent indicator that there wasn’t a raging fire behind any of them. Looking at each option, Mark stopped to consider. He assumed there wasn’t an actual fire burning. At least not yet. The alarm going off had to do with the life support. It wasn’t the fire alarm. Two rooms in the area had life support equipment in them. A fact that instantly relieved him. It wasn’t the reactor.

Although, having a problem with life support was a huge issue all its own.

Two doors. Two choices. With no obvious answer, Mark randomly picked one of them. Sliding open, Mark stared at the room. It was full of equipment. A majority of it not dealing with the life support systems. Being the engineer, he knew Hermes inside and out. Everyone did but him especially. Walking carefully through the room, he looked around. There were no blaring problems. No smoke filling the room. The more he looked around the less that seemed to be wrong. He thought that he picked the wrong room. That was until he turned around and a small puddle of liquid caught his eye.

The Electron Oxygen Generator was leaking. A machine that separated the hydrogen and oxygen via electrolysis. Mark didn’t touch it with his bare hands. He made a note of the location and that the smell was the strongest by the leak. There was a bit of smoke coming from one of the many tubes that lead into the machine but it didn’t seem to be from a fire. Watney turned to leave the room and headed back towards the bridge. The klaxon alarm was still blaring as he appeared again.

“Commander.” Watney said to get Lewis’ attention. She had moved from the seat to let Vogel take over talking with NASA. She turned to look at him. “I think I found the source of the problem. It seems that that one of the oxygen generators is leaking.” He reported. “No signs of fire or the potential for one.” It was a fact that should have relieved everyone. Only, Melissa seemed to get angry. Her jaw set and she turned away from Mark to Vogel.

“Alex, please go check to see if Mark is right. Martinez accompany him. Johanssen, go help Beck.” The crew glanced at each other before executing their new orders. Once they were gone, Lewis looked at Mark. She reached over and shut the door to bridge. The two alone. “What the hell, Mark?”

Her response caught him off guard. “What?”

“I explicitly told you to not engage in this situation.” She held on to the chair in front of her to keep still. Mark wanted to point out that she had never done such a thing, but kept quiet. “What came over you to just go check out the problem?”

Mark cleared his throat. “I felt that the crew was in danger and that the situation needed be assessed. Going off the report of smell alone wouldn’t be enough for a proper response to a possible fire. I came to conclusion that I could investigate without danger to myself. The alarm didn't indicate a fire.”

Lewis listened and nodded once. “Just because there was no confirmed fire doesn’t mean there couldn’t have been one. We were in the middle of checking for increased temperatures in that location.”

“Did any come back elevated?” Mark asked.

“No. But again not indicator that there is no fire.”

“It seems to me that all plays into there being no fire, Commander. In which, there isn’t one. I’m assuming the acrid smell is caused by the leak. The only thing that we’ll need to do now is replace the generator. And scrub the atmosphere to prevent any possible irritation.”

“That’s all an assumption. There could still be a larger problem. There still is a larger problem here. And it isn’t the leaky oxygen generator. It’s you, Mark.” He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue. “I fully understand that you are worried about what is happening on this ship. You have every right to be. But you have no right to go off on your own to find the problem. You know that isn’t how thing work around here. You assessed that there was no immediate threat, but didn’t ask anyone to back that up. What if you had been wrong, Mark?” She ran her hand over the top of her head. “What if a sensor had malfunctioned and there was a fire? And you opened that door introducing a flux of oxygen? You aren’t the only person on this ship. You have to think about everyone. Not just yourself. You put yourself and the rest of us in mortal danger.

“I understand what you were on your own for eighteen months, Watney. We all do. But don’t get reckless.” Lewis continued. “We have a long way to get home. I will not have you going off on your own because you think you know what is best for everyone. You might be an expert for how to survive on Mars but that does not mean you override my authority. I mean, Jesus, Mark. I have NASA asking what is happening. I have to report back to them and tell them what you did. You aren’t even cleared for duty!” She sighed, her hand resting on the back of her neck. Her fingers dug into the muscle. Mark stayed silent during the entire beratement.

“I’m not sorry for what I did, Commander.” Watney finally spoke up after several seconds of silence. “I do apologize for the way I did it but not for doing it. If there had been a fire the response time was growing shorter and you know that.” He waited, a thought on his tongue but he wasn’t sure if he should share. He decided to hell with it. “I get this feeling that you are slightly hesitant to react the proper way.” Watney’s statement caused the Commander’s eyebrows to raise. “I know for a fact that you still blame yourself for what happened on Mars. That you probably wish you had done things differently. But you were following protocol. Protocol that ended up getting me stranded on Mars. Protocol that maybe is flawed and should be questioned. So, when something bad happens, you question yourself.” It was the first time he had ever been so candid with Lewis.

“There are some parts of the SOPs that have been put in place that shouldn’t be questioned. If it had been an actual fire, we would have contained ourselves. But in this case, with no visual or any other sensory indication it was safe to press forward with a search. Something that you should have enacted immediately. To confirm or dispel the threat of fire.” He took a breath. “In fact, none of the protocols should be questioned. Not even the ones for emergency evacuation. But what should be questioned is why you aren’t reacting as urgent as you should have been.”

“So you’re questioning my ability to command this crew? My judgement?” She asked, her voice eerily calm.

“I’m questioning if you're judging your current decisions to harsh based on previous ones.”

“And what if I am?”

“Then I’d tell you the same thing you just told me. You have to think about everyone.”

Lewis turned to look at the computer. NASA was waiting for a response. They had sent several messages asking for an update. They were probably going crazy. The last thing that they had talked about was a potential for a fire. Then radio silence. “You aren’t off the hook for what you did, Watney. Trust me on that. But if you are right, then you saved us a big headache. Go help Vogel with the generator. Then I want you to write the entire report of the events to NASA.” She smiled a bit, but no happy emotions were conveyed in the gesture.

Mark closed his eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.” He said as he opened his eyes. Lewis opened the door. Martinez had been waiting outside. Watney floated past the pilot without making eye contact. Rick was able to pick up on the tension but said nothing. He came back to report that Mark had been correct. The Electron Oxygen Generator overheated and caused one of the gaskets to deform. Leading to the leak. The smell was most likely caused by the reaction of potassium hydroxide and the plastic of the gasket. Other than wearing masks to prevent irritation, no further precautions would be needed. Once the atmosphere in the ship was replaced it was safe to remove the masks.

Mark and Vogel worked on replacing the generator. It wasn’t the only one on the ship. Even if it couldn’t have been replaced the other one would have been able to handle the six for the remaining trip.

“Do you think what I did was reckless, Vogel?” Mark asked as was handed a wrench to disconnect pipes from the wall. He had to contort himself around the generator to reach the spot. It was difficult to exert so much energy in the increased gravity. The German didn’t say anything at first.

“I believe if you had asked Beck that question he would not think so. But I…” He shrugged. “I believe that you should have waited, or at least told someone else what you were going to do.” Alex was honest. He always was. If you needed a good opinion, one free of judgement, Vogel was the person to ask.

“Do think I put you guys in danger?” Mark grunted a bit as he worked the connection lose. They were finally able to work together to move the generator out of the way. Watney being mindful of his back as they did.

Vogel hummed as he thought. “Nein. I trust your judgement. Whether that judgement is reckless, as you say, is a different matter altogether.”

Mark nodded. Somewhat content with the answer.

It took two days to replace the oxygen generator. Once the work concluded, Mark had to write up the official report from start to finish. If he wanted to be involved, he got to do the paperwork. As Lewis reminded him several times. He was in the middle of his reasoning for acting under his own authority when Lewis knocked on his open door.

“Do you have a moment?” She asked. Mark saved the document before looking up to her.

“Always. What’s up?” Mark reached up and closed the laptop. Lewis took a seat on the edge of his bed. Mark turned in his seat to face her.

“You were right. The other day. About me judging myself too harshly.” Melissa admitted. “I’m under extra pressure for being the first female to lead a trip to Mars. And even though that doesn’t bother me personally, I have to make sure I do things right. What happened on Mars was devastating. Not because I was worried what people would think of my ability to command properly. But because losing you affected us all in ways we didn’t expect. Ways that we haven’t gotten over yet. Ways that we are working on getting over.” It took the possible emergency and Mark pointing it out to her for Lewis to realize that she had hesitated in her decision. There hadn’t been any other life or death situation since evacuating Mars. Thus Lewis hadn’t the chance to realize the new fallacy in her ability to command Hermes.

There wasn’t much else she wanted to say. Lewis got other feet and went to the door. She stopped and turned. “And if you ever do anything like that again,” She started her warning. “I don’t really know what I’ll do. But don’t make me find out, Watney.”

Mark nodded once. “Aye commander.” He acknowledged her and she left his quarters. Mark opened his laptop to finish the report. He felt oddly better. As if he had just confronted one of his worries with the crew. Relieved to know that everyone was working just as hard as him to make things as normal as they once were.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 725

I am tired. So, tired. I’m ready to be home. We have 173 days left. But I got to keep a good attitude going. Sometimes that’s difficult to do when you're crammed into a tin can. Flying through space, with only five other people. And also facing difficult problems every day. The crew trained to handle any and all emergencies as they arise. The problem with the Electron Oxygen Generator the other day was nothing. After sitting down to write the report I realized that I acted out of line. Taking my own command when I didn’t have the right. It’s only because the situation turned out well that I didn’t get totally shredded by NASA. They were less than pleased when they found out what I did. They are going to let it slide. And I quote, “You have has been under extreme duress for the last year and half. Behavioral changes expected. Please follow Commander Lewis’ suggestions from now on.”

Behavioral changes expected. Pfft. I have this distinct feeling that everyone at NASA thinks I’ve lost my marbles. I’ll admit, they are certainly scrambled but I’m still me. Just taking the time to get everything back in order. The way it was. Like I said before, just got to keep that good attitude going.

Interestingly, space travel is almost dependent on just that. Attitude. In space flight attitude is referring to the orientation of the ship compared to that of the Sun, Earth and other objects. The attitude thrusters are used to keep Hermes oriented. If you lose control, lose that attitude, two things happen. The ship will start to spin and tumble, which will disorient everyone on board. Then you’ll get off course. An outcome that could be detrimental to everyone. Something that could mean the difference between life and death. It’s important to maintain that proper attitude. So everyone can get home safe.

It’s a similar situation to the crew. If you lose your attitude, you’ll get off course. You’ll spin out of control. Things will go wrong, bad things will happen. Again, a detrimental outcome to everyone around you. Something that could result in the difference of life or death while in space. Although, it’s much easier to keep Hermes’ attitude on the correct path. Martinez or Vogel tells the computer what to do. Attitude for the crew is much trickier. NASA could create robots to send to space and not have to worry about it. (Well, they have done that but you know what I mean.) They could send robots in place of humans altogether. But that just won’t work. There is only so much that a rover or probe can tell us. People need people to tell other people about the unknown. It’s that simple.

I’ve taken NASA’s suggestion to follow Lewis’ command. (As if I wasn’t). I’d like to point out that I didn’t question her command because I thought she was wrong. She was following protocol and doing exactly the right thing. I went against her orders because I was restless and figured I could solve the problem faster. It’s been a while since I’ve done any engineering work. Or any work. I get to start my botany experiments again today, but that’s just one hat I wear on this ship. I had my fingers in everyone’s pie so to speak. I did everything on this ship on the way to Mars. In addition to the guy who played with plants I did a little bit of everything. Maintenance on life support systems, the reactor, heating and cooling systems. Everything a mechanical engineer would be expected to deal with. But I also helped Johanssen with the onboard computers. I took care of issues with cooking stations. The most unfortunate but necessary job was dealing with the reclamation systems. (Luckily I'm just Martinez's back up for that job). I can add Interplanetary Plumber to my resume.

Honestly, I’d rather get to deal with the toilets again than sit around and do nothing. I’ve been on Hermes for five weeks. I’m ready to get back to doing my full job. Until then, I’ll take working with my plants. Meeting with Martinez today to see where everything was left off. He was the one most recently in charge of taking care of my work. I suspect it might be a mess.

After breakfast and the day’s bout of physical therapy concluded, Mark made his way through the tight corridors to the labs. Orientating his body, he grabbed the ladder and held it tighter as the centripetal force created the false gravity. Watney had arrived before Martinez. It was a great sight. Something felt different upon viewing the lab. The few times he had been in the lab before it felt like he was visiting. This time, it felt like he was back home. He had spent several hours a day working in the labs on the 124 day trip to Mars. He was going to make up for lost time.

Navigating the space, Mark stopped in front of his assigned work bench. The order he had kept it in was nonexistent. Papers, tools and notebooks all in different locations. Absent-mindedly he started putting things back where they belonged. The writing utensils and tools on the right side for easy access. All notebooks went in the left drawer, while references went in the right. Watney was in the middle of shuffling the items around when Martinez joined the botanist.

“Already kicking us out?” Martinez asked as he watched Mark rearrange his workspace. Mark looked up with his tablet in hand.

“Yeah well, it’s about time. This place is a mess.” He pressed a button to wake the screen of the tablet and punched in the passcode. In a few taps he was to the electronic copy of the lab records.

“Do you need me to explain where we left off?” Martinez questioned as he came to stand next to Mark. He looked at the greenhouse that was bolted to the table. He had spent more time messing with plants than he ever expected. His wife had a small garden back home. The only thing he had to do was pull weeds and till the dirt for her in the spring time. Marissa took care of the rest. A moment of silence passed as Mark looked over the records.

Watney shook his head. “No, I think I can pick things up from here. Figure it all out. They are my experiments after all.” He said without looking up to the pilot. Martinez released a relieved sigh.

“Thank God!” He exclaimed and clamped his hand down on Mark’s shoulder. “Because honestly, buddy, not sure if I ever really understood what I was doing.” He grinned, Mark smiled back. “Boy, am I glad that we decided to ignore NASA and come save you. Now you can do your own experiments.” Martinez said with a laugh.

Mark chuckled with him. “Yeah, yeah I’ll do my own…” He trailed off, staring at the tablet before looking up to Rick. “Ignore NASA?” Watney asked. “What do you mean by that?” An uncomfortable silence fell over them. “Martinez.” Mark prompted. “What do you mean by ignore NASA to come back for me?”

Rick shifted. “I guess they didn’t tell you.” Watney offered him an expression that conveyed heavily for him to continue. The pilot cleared his throat. “Okay, so Iris One failed right?” Martinez started, unsure where to begin the explanation. “NASA thought you were boned. You wouldn’t have gotten the supplies—“

“I’m aware, skip to the ignoring NASA part.” Mark cut him off, growing slightly impatient.

“So, they got a second booster from China, Taiyang Shen, and the original plan was to send that to you. As Iris Two. Except I guess the chances of it working were sort of… not good. But this guy, named Rich Purnell came up with a maneuver that was able to send Hermes back to Mars for the fly by.” Mark moved his hand in a tight circle, indicating for Martinez to speed up the explanation. “The maneuver required the use of Taiyang Shen, so NASA could only do one. Originally, they explicitly denied the Rich Purnell Maneuver because, uh, well, it risked six people’s lives and not just… one.” Martinez said, his voice falling flat.

Mark felt his heart sink in his chest. “Go on.” He managed.

“Someone sent us the maneuver and we decided, against what NASA wanted, and did it anyway. We forced their hand and they used the probe as a resupply for Hermes instead of sending it to you on Mars.” Rick concluded.

Watney released a shaky breath he had been holding. “So, you guys committed mutiny to save me?”

Rick smiled wide. “Yeah, man!”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Mark asked, it wasn’t the response Martinez had been expecting. His smile fell.

“What do you mean? We weren’t just going to tell you die on Mars!” Rick defended.

“The probe could have worked. I could have survived until Ares Four got to Mars.”

“Yeah, but the maneuver worked just fine. Who cares if the probe might have worked? You are headed home now. Safe! You should be happy!” Martinez tried to make the crew’s choice seem like the right one to Mark. Watney brought his hand to his face, his thumb and index finger tightly pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers spread, covering his eyes. Mark’s thumb and middle finger dug into his temples. “Are you okay?”

Mark took a deep breath. “Yes.” He was thankful that his crew defied NASA’s orders. He was able to get off Mars sooner than planned. His hand fell away from his face. “Excuse me.” Mark set the tablet on the work bench and headed towards the ladder. Rick turned on his heel.

“We all made the choice together. To come back and get you. We know you would have done the same for any of us, Mark.” Martinez quickly interjected before Mark was able to leave the lab. Watney stopped with his hands on the ladder.

A tightness took over his chest, his face felt hot. Mark took deep breaths and blinked hard. Staving off tears that threatened to fall. “I know.” Mark got out without his voice betraying the emotion he felt. Before letting Martinez say anything else, he climbed the ladder. Within moments he navigated the ship to the crew’s quarters. Once in his room, he closed the door and slid down the sleek surface. Watney pulled his legs towards his chest to allow him to rest his forehead on his knees. It didn’t take long for his body to shake from his attempts to silence his crying.

Log Entry
Mission Day 725 (2)

Fuck.

I can’t believe the crew committed MUTINY to save my ass. Oh god. It bothers me that they defied a direct order. Went against what NASA told them. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad that they did. I’m elated that they did. Forever in their debt for pulling such a stunt and coming back to get me. That’s not the part that got me. What got me was the reminder of how easily I could have died on Mars. Each day I realize that my survival there was more based on pure luck than anything else. Every little detail and event that had to fall into place. Every decision that was made, not just by me but by dozens of other people. If one of them, just one of them, had made a different choice or if something went differently. I’d probably be dead. Mars wouldn’t just be the fourth planet from the sun. It would be my burial site.

Mark had moved from the floor to his bed. He stretched out and stared at the ceiling. Contemplating everything over the course of the last nineteen months. He slipped a pair of headphones in and cranked up the volume. The sounds of the ship faded away. The only sensation he had was the bed behind him. The beat of Possessed by Robert DeLong thumped loudly in his ears. Watney closed his eyes as he listened to the music. The increased volume made him unaware that he had a visitor. After a few moments he opened his eyes, the feeling that he wasn’t alone encroached over him. He was right.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Beck’s outline. He didn’t jump or get startled. Watney turned his attention to the Doctor. He was talking, his mouth moving with silent words. The music drowned everything out. Mark had no idea what he was talking about. Beck must have asked a question because he stopped talking and looked as if he was waiting for a response. Watney sat up on the bed and pulled the earbuds out. The music now sounding tinny as it played to the large area of the room. “Did you say something?” Mark asked.

Beck sighed, he figured that Mark hadn’t heard anything he said. “Yeah. Are you okay? Martinez told us that he informed you of our choice to come back and get you.” Beck said as he took a seat, clearly making himself comfortable. Planning to stick around longer than a quick ‘are you alright’?

“You mean your mutiny?” Mark clarified.

“Sure. You aren’t angry we made that choice are you? Because we’re all capable of making our own decisions. No matter how much you’d rather be self-sacrificing.” Beck stated, commenting about Mark’s retort when he was saved. That he’d rather the memorials back home only be about him.

“I’m not angry you saved me. I’m… upset, that NASA decided that…” He shrugged, his eye sight diverting to the ground.

“Decided what?” Beck probed, seeing if he could get an answer.

“That they wanted to take the safe bet. What’s the problem if one guy dies verses six? I mean, I understand why that choice was made. If I was an administrator at NASA I probably would have come to the same conclusion. It’s the obvious one. It’s just a little difficult to convince myself of that when you are the one guy that would have died.” Mark admitted. It was an understandable reason to be upset.

Beck was somewhat surprised that Mark answered him so freely. Hopeful that it was an indicator that he was growing to be at ease once more. Chris nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I could see where that would be off putting.” Beck agreed. “Luckily we liked you enough to go back for you.” He joked lightly. Hoping that it was the right time for it. He wasn’t the best at using humor to lighten a situation. Unlike Watney and Martinez who were naturals.

Watney released a short laugh. Beck relaxed, believing he made the right call. “Yeah, my mother sure does appreciate that.” He responded. The doctor squinted one eye slightly. Unsure if Mark was being sarcastic towards his attempts of humor. For being a doctor he wasn’t the best at deciphering people.

“All I know,” Beck started as he stood up. He had originally planned to stay longer but it seemed that Mark was dealing with the news better than expected. “Is that if I were you, I’d be writing Sanders an email.”

Mark pursed his lips with amusement and nodded. “That’s a brilliant idea.” He said with a sly grin coming over his face. “Doctor Beck to the rescue once again.” Watney said as he got of his bed and grabbed his laptop.

Beck smiled. “It’s what I do best.” He said and watched Mark for a moment. The doctor lingered at the door. “So you good?” He asked, never getting a straight answer.

The botanist looked up to his crewmate. “Yeah, I will be.” He waited a beat. “And thank you. To all of you. I appreciate you all committing mutiny for me.” Mark smiled. “Now we’re a band of space pirates.” He took a breath as if he was overwhelmed with great emotion. His right hand went over his heart. “This is great. Let’s get eye patches made.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Write your damn email.” He instructed Mark before leaving his quarters. Mark continued to grin to himself as he leaned his back against the wall and started composing a new email to the director.

Log Entry
Mission Day 725 (3)

Random thought. If I had died on Mars. I’d put the Pyramids in Egypt to shame. Oh, you think you are so cool will a triangular stack of rocks as a tomb? Yeah, I got an entire planet. Suck on that pharaohs.

Chapter Text

July 1, 2037
Washington, DC

TO: T. Sanders
From: M. Watney
SUBECT: Bro

What the FUCK, Sanders?

-MW.

Teddy Sanders sighed as he looked at the email displayed on his screen. He had just gotten to work. Barely had his coffee as he started to click through the emails he received overnight. Surprised to see one from Mark, he clicked to read it first. He had expected something important, worth his time. He wasn’t sure why he expected that. This was Mark Watney. Sanders reread the short email a few times. There were a couple of things that it could be referring too. But he had a decent idea what it was about. It wasn’t the way he wanted to start the morning. He had flown to the NASA headquarters the night before with Kapoor. They had a meeting with the lawyers and Sanders suspected it would take longer than planned.

Sipping at the hot coffee, there was a knock at the door. Venkat stuck his head in. “You ready?” He asked the Administrator.

“Got an email from Watney.” Sanders said, motioning to the computer screen and ignoring Venkat’s question. The Director of Mars Mission perked an interested brow before he entered the office. Rounding the desk, he adjusted his glasses to look at the screen. He laughed.

“Yeah, that is indeed from Mark.” Venkat read the one line of text again. “What is it about?”

Teddy shook his head. “Hard to say. I’m going to assume it’s about picking Iris 2 over the Rich Purnell Maneuver. It’s the only thing I could assume that he’d be upset enough about to message me.”

“Probably. Going to email him back?” Venkat asked. Teddy looked up to his collegue before looking to the computer. He leaned forward.

TO: M. Watney
FROM: T. Sanders
SUBECT: Re: Bro

It wasn’t personal.

Teddy Sanders.  

The Director hit send and logged out of his computer. “You know he’s going to tell you that it was very personal. As it was about him.” Kapoor pointed out as he stepped back to allow Sanders to get around his desk. They both left his office together.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m glad the maneuver worked but I don’t have to go back and forth. If he wants to compose an actual email to talk about it, fine. But the fallout from saving Watney is still very real and we are all busy.” Sanders reminded Kapoor. A fact that he didn’t need to be reminded of. “Including this lovely meeting today.” They crossed the large complex, reaching the suite that their meetings were held. Teddy took a spot at the head of the table, Kapoor to his right. After they were seated, Sanders set out his notes and folders in a neat row.

“I can’t believe the lawyers were able to wrangle an entire day out of us.” Teddy said as he shook his head. The amount of work on his desk was growing each day and he had to take a few days off to travel to Washington to sit with legal.

“It sounded like they were spooked.” Kapoor said as he opened his laptop. “But like every other department, the repercussions of Watney’s situation run deeper than we all realize.” His laptop automatically connected to the network. “Saving him was great but no one was thinking about what would happen after. I don’t think anyone really cared.”

Sanders exhaled loudly through his mouth. “Yeah, I know I wasn’t thinking about the aftermath. At least not actively.”

A few minutes passed and three people entered the office. A woman, followed by two men. The leader was an older lady, with greying short hair and a well-defined jaw line. “Hello, boys.” She greeted the two high ranking executives.

“Hello, Kelly.” Sanders responded. In a tone that indicated he wasn’t pleased with the way she addressed them.

Kelly Thompson, one of the best lawyers on the east coast. Scooped up by NASA soon after graduating, she had been with the government funded organization her entire career. Kelly had plenty of work due to NASA’s public influence. Given, most of her cases were never this exciting. She hadn’t been this busy since the fall out with the Russians after the International Space Station was decommissioned. She was able to smooth things over but it was one hell of a year. Now, there was this fiasco.

The men accompanying her were from her team that was working on the Post-Watney Debacle. They were there to provide support and look up documents as necessary.

“What problems has legal whipped up this time?” Sanders asked as he leaned back in his chair. The meeting details that Kelly had sent were vague and left him with more questions than answers.

The senior attorney straightened her suit jacket. “We’re getting ready for Mark Watney’s return home.” She started as she shifted a few papers around. “Preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.” She said as she found the document she was looking for.

Kapoor looked up from his computer screen. “What do you expect might happen?”

“We want to make sure that Mark Watney can’t sue NASA.” She admitted.

Venkat and Teddy exchanged glances. “Sue NASA?” Sanders asked incredulously. “Why would he do that? We saved him!”

“Mark isn’t going to sue us.” Venkat added.

Thompson shrugged, unconvinced. “You don’t know that. Some independent lawyer could approach him. Get the idea in Watney’s head that he could get more money from NASA. My team and I are going to make sure that there is no way he can do that. Yes, there will have to be a settlement, but not a court case.”

“Why would he be able to sue us? We didn’t really have a protocol to follow for this situation. We never expected someone to get stranded on Mars alive.” Teddy replied, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Which is exactly why he could lawyer up. There are loopholes. There is no documentation in place to prevent this from happening.”

“He signed paperwork stating that he understood that there were inherent risks to his job. Death included.” Sanders responded.

“Just because he signed a disclaimer doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have a case. We have to prove that NASA and the rest of the Ares 3 crew weren’t negligent in leaving him behind. I want to go over everything that happened. Starting with the evacuation on Mars until it was discovered that Mark was still alive.” Kelly finally took a seat. A fact that relieved Sanders, her domineering stance had intimidated him slightly.

Kapoor took the lead. Navigating through folders and pages to find the correct documents. “The Ares 3 crew arrived on schedule to Mars on November 7, 2035.” Venkat started reading. “They began surface operations the following day. Six Sols later, on November 13, meteorology picked up a large grade sandstorm heading for the Ares 3 landing site at 4:30 AM Central Standard Time. The storm was rated at moderate upon detection.” Venkat paraphrased most of the wording. “At 6:45 AM the storm escalated to severe and the decision to abort the mission was made.”

Kelly nodded as she listened, she had read all this before. She had all these documents herself. “And what did the crew do? Can I see the official report sent in from them after the evacuation?”

Sanders had a hard copy that he handed over.

TO: T. Sanders
FROM: M. Lewis
SUBJECT: Post-Emergency Abort Report

After receiving the official word to evacuate, emergency abort procedures were taken. The crew had already been in their flight suits in case an abort was ordered. No materials where gathered and the crew paired off with their pre-determined partner. Myself with Beck, Vogel and Martinez, Johannsen and Watney in the rear.

Outside visibility was near zero. The wind made it difficult to walk. We had honed in on the telemetry of the MAV to make the trip. During this time, unknown debris had broken free and was carried with the torrent. Due to the low visibility, it was not seen. This debris hit Watney and carried him off from the group. Immediately, he decompression alarm went off. Johannsen reported that he disappeared in the westward direction.

I ordered Major Martinez to continue to the MAV to being launch procedures. The rest of the crew lined up and attempted to locate Watney. His suit’s computer had gone offline. Before it did, it had sent partial data that Johannsen was able to decipher. It indicated that his pulse rate and blood pressure were at zero but his temperature was normal. Doctor Beck indicated that it would take longer for the temperature to register lower.

The MAV was reaching the tipping point. I ordered the rest of the crew to the ship while I attempted to search for Watney. After several minutes, the search was fruitless. In order to not be stranded I had to return to the ship.

Doctor Beck declared Mark to have been killed by the debris that hit him. If not, the decompression of his suit would have resulted in his death shortly after.

Vogel, Beck, Johanssen, Martinez and I have returned safely to Hermes. Mark Watney was killed in the evacuation and his body was left behind.

Cmd. Lewis.

Kelly looked over the document. It was professional but she could only imagine the pain that Lewis had experienced as she had to inform NASA that Mark had been killed. “And then what happened after you received the notification of Watney’s death?” Thompson asked Sanders.

“First we sent a message back, asking them to confirm that he had died. After that we made arrangements to contact his parents. We sent out a representative in person. All the astronauts pick people they want to be the ones to convey the news. Mark had chosen Stewart Dixon from the Ares II crew. Once they were informed, we went public.” Sanders explained.

“Okay, why did it take two months to get pictures of the Ares 3 landing site?” Kelly asked as she glanced down to a piece of paper.

Venkat spoke up this time. “Well, originally I tried to get imagery sooner. The crew EVAC-ed after six Sols, there would have been plenty of supplies left. If we could see what was left, another mission might have been secured. Although, the request was denied.”

“By who?” Thompson asked, even though she was well aware by who.

“Me.” Sanders answered flatly. Kelly looked to the Director. She cocked her head to a slight tilt, her eyebrows raised. “I denied the request because the pictures are public. We didn’t need photos of Mark’s body circulating the internet. That would have been a disaster. Not to mention the sort of emotional trauma that’d have caused his parents.” The Administrator pointed out.

The group of lawyers reminded quiet. Kelly glanced between her two associates. “But what you are saying is, no one bothered to get photographic evidence of Watney’s death following the report that Commander Lewis sent in?” The two executives remained silent. “What you are telling me is that no one thought to check if Mark Watney was actually dead. That not one person thought that it would be a good idea to confirm the report? According to Lewis, visibility was zero. Not one person on Mars saw Mark Watney die or could physically confirm his death.”

Sanders and Kapoor felt as if they were in the court room, being interrogated. “We had the data from his EVA suit! His pulse and blood pressure were zero! The decompression alarm went off.” Teddy started defending their side. “With that information, plus seeing him get slammed with flying wreckage it was pretty easy to believe that he had been killed.”

“But he wasn’t. And that’s why I’m here.” Kelly simply responded. “No one bothered to look. NASA could have known two whole months sooner that Mark was alive. Two months to get a rescue together. Two months to establish communication. He could have been saved sooner. That two months could have allowed the Iris One probe to have been successful. The extra time could have prevented his rescue from being as costly.” The attorney continued on. “A price that is going to continue to increase once Hermes finally gets home. You thought showing a picture of a dead astronaut was going to be a PR nightmare. Try managing the press when that same astronaut sues. Or when his parents get the idea to because you told them their son was dead and he wasn’t.”

“We saved him!” Teddy shot back. “Watney understands that, he isn’t going to take this to court. Nor his parents.”

Kelly wanted to believe him but her long career with the law made her skeptical. “All that aside we are going to have to prepare a settlement. If we can offer something immediately that could curb the chances of Mark wanting to escalate the situation.”

Teddy sat back in his seat, bothered at the way she changed the subject. “What do you have in mind?”

“For starters we’ll have to pay Watney his wages for a year and half. Including over time and hazard pay. We should cover all medical expenses when he returns. There is the issue with his assets being frozen and seized upon the declaration of his ‘death’,” Kelly said with air quotes. A motion that bothered Teddy more than he could explain. “Which includes his house being reclaimed by the bank and sold. Also, I can only imagine how being stranded on Mars would mess up a person. Reimbursement for emotional distress should be included.”

“And how much would you say would cover all that?” Kapoor asked, sensing that if Teddy spoke again he might lose his calm.

“Well, technically he’d only get normal pay for the first 31 Sols he was there. Everything after that is overtime. With hazard pay on top of all that, payment for his salary alone could easily be 1.5 million. Medical can be taken care of once he’s on Earth. His house was valued at about 230 thousand dollars. Then emotional damages. We’re looking at paying Watney 3 to 5 million dollars.”

Both of the men sighed. “Mark Watney, NASA’s most expensive astronaut.” Sanders muttered. “Where will that money be coming from?”

“That is not my department.” Kelly answered.

“Spend 100 billion dollars sending him to Mars in the first place. Hundreds of millions getting him home. What’s another few million at this point?” Kapoor asked with a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

“Hey, I’m not the one that didn’t bother to check if was actually dead. That fact alone could prove negligence. You either ante up or get ready to go to court in about six months.”

Sanders released a long sigh.  “Fine, let’s get on with it. Get the damn accountants on the phone.” Teddy now understood why this was going to take all day. 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 730

I almost died today. Felt like I couldn’t breathe. I figured the death part of life and death situations would decrease when I boarded Hermes. I was wrong. As far as ways to die this one wasn’t bad. I’ve sort of become numb to the idea of dying in a way. I lived in mortal danger for eighteen months. Under the constant assumption that something on Mars was going to kill me. Today was no different.

So this morning, when I laughed so hard I nearly died, I accepted it. Beck thought I was going to bust my almost healed ribs from laughing. My chest and abdomen hurt but I couldn’t stop, I cried. I hadn’t laughed that much since getting stranded. Let me explain what was so funny.

I received an email from my mother. (Not the funny part). She was letting me know that her and my Dad were making arrangements to travel to Houston soon. So we can have another ‘live’ chat. (Also not the funny part, actually looking forward to that). She talked about other stuff, filled me in on how everyone is and things going on, on Earth. (Not funny). Then she included a scanned copy of a news article. (This is the funny part).

Right away I knew this was going to be good. Anything from the National Enquirer is ridiculous and to be honest, I was tickled to see my name in the headline. Who wouldn’t want some outrageous story printed about them for the entire nation to read? The content is so outlandish it’s hard to get angry about it. The headline set everything up. ‘Mark Watney Suing NASA for Mars?’ Now, I read that headline several times. For Mars? For Mars. The beginning detailed how my lawyers were preparing to take NASA to court. Which was amusing in itself for two reasons. One, I don’t have lawyers. Two, I would never sue NASA. Taking NASA to court would be like biting the hand that feeds you. Yes, let me just take the people who saved my life to court. Right.

I will admit the argument presented was convincing. If I was some random person I’d probably believe that Mark Watney was going to sue NASA for not confirming, he was dead. Honestly, it’s an interesting point. But in reality, knowing I was alive two months earlier wouldn’t have been that helpful. I wouldn’t have recovered Pathfinder any sooner. I didn’t even realize that NASA knew I was alive until they told me they had been watching me. Sure, the rescue effort could have started earlier. But that just would have given every one more time. Iris probably would have launched around the same time but wouldn’t have failed. Then I would have had the supplies to last until Ares Four arrived. If NASA had realized I was alive sooner, I probably would still be on Mars.

It was only because it was the direst of situations that Hermes came back for me. So thank you NASA for not checking I was alive. I get to come home now, instead of in two and half years from now.

Anyway, this article. As it went on, the author decided that the money I could receive would be insufficient compensation. (Because being alive isn’t enough). Then, apparently, NASA had tried to settle this out of court but I refused and would see them in front of a judge. Greatly amused at this point, the amazing part happened. Written in an actual article that was actually published by actual people, was: ‘Mark Watney is an expert on Mars. His situation affords him a view of the planet that no one else has. Due to the need to provide Watney with the compensation he deserves, he should be rewarded ownership of the planet he was once stranded.’

Oh my God.

This is the part that I started laughing. A chuckle that quickly turned into an uproarious laugh that reduced me to a wheezing mess. I’m gunna sue NASA for ownership of Mars! As if NASA has the ability to give someone a planet. Maybe if I also took the United Nations to court.

The truly amusing part of this is that someone at the National Enquirer believes that I would want to own Mars. That I, Mark Watney now Mars survival expert would like to own the planet I was abandoned on. If I owned that dusty shithole globe, I’d just send probes to it that said “Fuck You” on the side. I’d send satellites as well, of course. In the shape of flipping the bird. They would drop little packages on the surface that also said fuck you on them. F-bombs littering the planet. The imagery of that caused me to laugh even harder. I believe that the crew was concerned for my sanity for a moment. They all laughed too but not nearly as much. I think it was a, ‘you had to be there’ situation.

I have to thank Jerry McKoy for writing that piece of glorious fiction. I wonder if he uses Twitter. I should get that back up and running and send him a thank you tweet. As much as I enjoyed being the king of Mars for eighteen months, I never want to be associated with that damn planet again. Which, unfortunately, will never happen but a guy can dream, right?

After I composed myself I replied to my Mom thanking her for forwarding that along. Not a bad way to start the day, here’s hoping the rest goes well.

Floating freely, Mark pushed off the wall to move to the other side of the zero-g lab. He reached out to grab one of the many hand holds to stop his drift. The last few days he went over his experiments. Sorting out what data his crewmates had collected in his absences. He was pleased to find that everything was on track. Despite Martinez’s claims that he didn’t understand what he was doing the results recorded would be evidence to the opposite. Mark was able to pick up where they left off with little troubles.

He let go of the tablet that he was typing on, it floated beside him. He looked around for the camera that he had been using. The only problem with zero gravity was that objects never tended to stay where they belonged. There was a system to anchor items but it was generally easier (and more fun) to take advantage of the lack of gravity. Locating the camera, Mark navigated through the lab to snatch it from the air. Returning to his work station he took photos of the ferns. The plants were proliferating with healthy leaves, good color and a hearty root system. Watney took the appropriate photos. They were automatically uploaded to a file that he was able to access on his tablet.

Finished with the camera he returned it to its proper location instead of letting it wonder about. This time he had to find his tablet. Turning he saw Johanssen with his tablet in hand.

“Looking for this?” She asked holding up the device.

“Sure was.” Watney said as he reached out for it. “Where did it end up?” Mark asked as Beth handed it over.

“Found it making its way towards the bridge.” She said with a smile. “If you aren’t going to Velcro everything down you should at least shut the door to the lab.” Johanssen said knowingly, even though she was well aware that there were no doors.

“Oh right. I knew I was forgetting to do something.” Mark played along as he brought up the new pictures. Moving them to a file labeled for his experiments and further broken down by mission day. After a moment he looked up to find Beth staring at him. “What?” Mark asked. “Do I have something on my face?” 

The sysop shook her head. “No, it’s nothing.” She smiled faintly. Mark leered at her.

“You look happy. To happy.” Mark said as he tucked his tablet under his arm. “Did Beck propose? If he did that’s moving sort of fast but I mean, pretty romantic to propose in space.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t blame him.”

“No!” Johanssen shook her head and laughed a bit. “No.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just… nice to see you working again. Back with the rest of us.” She admitted.

Mark smirked before pushing off the wall towards Beth, he stopped once he was closer to her. “Aw, Johanssen.” Watney nodded with content. “You are such a sap.”

Johanssen scoffed before reaching out to shove Watney’s shoulder. “Get out of here. Try and be nice, just once.” She said with a shake of her head as Mark floated the opposite direction.

Mark laughed as he grabbed a hand hold to stop moving. “I’m kidding. Mostly kidding anyway.” He smiled. “It’s nice to be working again. To be a part of the crew again. I’ve missed…” He stopped midsentence, his brow furrowed and he made a slight face.

“Missed what?” Johanssen asked with a perked eyebrow, taking note of his expression. “What?” She asked again as Mark looked around.

“Do you smell that?” Watney asked as he moved through the lab.

Johanssen took a deep breath attempting to detect the scent that Wantey did. “No? I don’t smell anything.” She turned and watched him take another breath. “What is it?” Mark pursed his lips to the side. He hummed. “Mark,” Beth said with a bit of exasperation in her voice. “What do you smell?”

“Ammonia.”

“Ammonia? Are you sure?” She took another breath not detecting the odor.

“Pretty sure.” Mark replied as he moved to leave the lab. As he floated to the rotating exchange he looked around. The smell was more pronounced and he tensed. Having spent several sols trapped with the smell he knew it well. A scent that his brain associated with blowing up. Trying his best to not think about the explosion in the Hab, Mark worked to locate the odor. Before he assumed the worst he wanted to find the source. “Go tell Lewis that ammonia can be detected in the air.”

At this point even Johanssen could smell the recognizable chemical. She nodded, floating off, understanding the danger at hand. The main coolant system on Hermes used ammonia to cycle heat off the ship through the veins outside. If there was leak it would prove dangerous to the crew. Mark took a breath and exhaled through his mouth trying to not think about Mars as he worked on solving the problem at hand. He floated past the labs to head towards the rooms that housed the easiest access to the cooling system. Watney stopped, grabbing a part of the wall as the scent of ammonia got his attention. Looking around he followed the smell, heading down the ladder towards the lab. As he went down, gravity increased and so did the smell. He could hear the high pitched ringing in his ears after the Hydrazine exploded.

Landing at the bottom, Mark turned and found Vogel standing at his bench. Garbed in his personal protection equipment. The German looked up, surprised to see Watney and realizing that he appeared panicked. “Something the matter?”

Watney glanced about the lab and then to Vogel’s work station. “What are you working on?”

Vogel looked to his station. “Strong acid-weak base titrations. Attempting to—,”

“Are you using ammonia?” Mark cut the chemist off.

“Ja, for this experiment.”

Mark sighed deeply, relieved that the problem wasn’t the cooling system. Although he still felt on edge despite the danger having passed. His brain kept itching at the Mars problem. “Okay, great. Sorry to bother you.” Mark said before he left his crewmate to do his work in peace. As he went ‘up’ the ladder, Mark nearly ran into Lewis. They were both surprised.

“Mark, Johanssen said that you smelled ammonia. Vogel is working with it today in his experiments.” She started explaining. The crew’s science schedules were on the shared space. Everyone knew what everyone’s tasks for any given day were. That included what experiments were going to be conducted and when. Which allowed everyone to prepare for the day as each experiment could pose a possible threat if something went wrong. Today’s schedule included the note that Vogel would be working with ammonia. “Thought you would have known that.”

As soon as she said it Mark remembered reading the annotation on the schedule. “Oh yeah, I totally forgot.” He said with a wave of his hand, his words sounding distracted.

The Commander turned her head to glance at Watney sideways. He was never the one to forget details. It was just the opposite. His intense attention to the details is what made him an excellent engineer and scientist. “Are you okay, Mark?” Lewis asked.

Watney felt the question was random. “Yeah, fine. Why?” He questioned.

She didn’t believe him. “Come on.” She said with a small thrust of her chin. Lewis floated towards the crew’s quarters. “Let’s go, Watney.” Mark watched her for a moment longer before reluctantly following after.

He took a seat in one of the two chairs in Lewis’ room. There was no ‘office’ or space otherwise for personal crew meetings save for the Rec. Mark clasped his hands together as the two astronauts remained silent and exchanged looks. “So why am I here?” Mark asked.

Lewis didn’t respond right away, she leaned back and pondered her words. “Serving in the Navy taught me a lot of things.” She started. “You learn a lot about human behavior when you are a ranking officer on a submarine.” Lewis explained. “Hermes isn’t much different. A cramp ship that you can’t leave.”

Mark blinked, unsure where the Commander was going with her story. “Okay?”

“Being stuck on a submarine can affect people. Especially since you have to be constantly vigilant for dangerous things to happen. Being under that sort of constant stress has its ramifications on a person. I’ve seen my fair share of fine sailors crack under the pressure. Men that were once strong willed succumb to something that they didn’t fully understand.” Lewis sighed as she thought of all the men and women that worked under her. “A lot of my men developed PTSD after serving. Some experienced horrific things, others were simply bystanders of an event.” Mark shifted in his seat, aware of where the conversation was now headed. “And a lot of my men didn’t ask for help and it affected their lives greatly.”

Mark swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “And?”

“And I don’t want to see you go through the same thing, Mark.” Lewis admitted. “You experienced more traumatic situations in the year and half on Mars than some would in their entire life. There’s no way to walk away from that without talking about what happened. I’m not forcing you to tell me everything. But I want you to know that I’ve seen firsthand what happens to a person if they don’t express themselves. Which, I know is something that you are capable of. You are probably one of the most expressive people I’ve ever known.”

Watney rubbed the sides of his thighs. He appreciated that Lewis cared but wasn’t a fan of the way she brought the subject up. “Look, I understand that. I’m not naïve.” He stopped and looked towards the ground. “I’ve considered that, told myself to a million times to tell you guys about Mars.” Watney shrugged as he brought his attention back up to the Commander. “But it’s a lot. So much happened and I’d rather never have to think about it again. Which, I know is unrealistic. I was just hoping to prolong the inevitable. Every time I think it is working, something happens and I’m thinking about Mars again. Remembering details that at the time seemed trivial but now are terrifying.”

Lewis watched him idly, not saying anything, just listening.

“I didn’t want to think about it because I wanted things to go back to the way they were. Just sort of tuck away the last eighteen months and never ever acknowledge them again.” Mark pressed on. “But again, like you said, probably not the best idea.” Watney brought his hand up, rubbing his forehead before dragging his fingers over his face. Leaning forward, Mark rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face into his hands. “Just so much shit happened. And it hasn’t stopped.” He said quietly. Mark looked up with his fingers spread over his face. “And it’s not going to stop. Is it?” Watney didn’t need Lewis to respond to his question to know the answer. He closed his eyes tightly.

His face disappeared into his hands once again. Mark took in a deep breath and held it before exhaling. The feeling of Lewis’ hand on his shoulder brought his attention from himself. He looked up, his eyes level with hers. Watney glanced to her hand, her touch reassuring. Calming his still agitated nerves. Something he had long forgotten about, how the simple touch of another person could be so vital. His brow creased, he blinked back the feeling of tears. He’d forgotten the comfort that other people provided. Which reminded him of how truly alone he was on Mars.

Melissa picked up on his change in emotion, seeing it clear on his face. She didn’t bother asking, she moved from her seat to pull Mark into an embrace. He hugged her back. His interaction with the crew had been superficial since he had returned to Hermes. Mark unaware of how much he was suffering from the lack of human interaction. Starved of contact. Lewis went to pull away but Watney didn’t let go.

“Just a moment longer.” He said in a hushed tone. Finally, after some time, Mark let go and he sat back in his seat. He looked away as he used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. Clearing his throat, Mark nodded. “Okay, yeah.” He exhaled a quick breath. “I think I can do this. I want to talk to the crew.”

A faint smile curled Lewis’ lips. “I’ll clear everyone’s schedule for after dinner. Sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” After a moment, Watney got to his feet. If he was going to explain what happened on Mars to everyone he had to go get his thoughts in order. Organize eighteen months’ worth of events in his head. “Thank you.” He said looking back towards Lewis. “For everything.” The Commander nodded silently, acknowledging him before Mark left her quarters for his own room. 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 730 (2)

Ever been so nervous that you thought you’d throw up? Yeah. That’s been me since agreeing to talk to the crew about Mars. This shouldn’t be such a big deal but I am freaking out! They came back to save me; they have a right to know. Well, not exactly. I don’t have to tell anyone if I don’t want too. But Lewis is right. The longer I keep everything that happened bottled up, the harder it's going to be to talk about it when I need too. I’ve gone in a cycle. I go from ‘Okay! I’m ready, let’s do this!’ to ‘Oh God, this is the worst idea I have ever had. Maybe flinging myself out the airlock will be easier’. As of this moment, the airlock option is looking mighty enticing.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 730 (3)

Okay, okay, okay. I’m ready. I’m ready. Let’s get this over with. Oh God, how have I not thrown up yet?

After making the small trek from his room, Mark floated in front of the entrance to the Rec. He stared down the semicone and gathered up the courage to join the crew. After several minutes he turned and slid down the ladder, landing on the ground. As he turned, everyone looked up from the table. A wave of panic washed over Watney as he made eye contact. The reason he was there to talk wasn't going to scare him off. Mark pushed down the emotion and joined the five at the table.

Everyone had finished eating about fifteen minutes ago. Mark considered joining them for a meal but wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it down. He had reached the point where it was no longer dire to skip a meal. He also didn’t want to have to start talking about Mars sooner than he had to.

It was silent for some time. No one knew what to say, or who to start.

“So, you are all probably wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” Mark finally started. “It’s because you are all fired. I’m sorry, budget cuts and the like, can’t avoid it—,”

“Mark…” Lewis cut him off. Although amused by his attempt at humor, she brought his focus back before it wondered to far.

“Right, sorry.” He said before looking down to his hands. They were laced together. Another moment of quietness took over the crew. “So, Mars.” Mark sighed. “Where to start?”

“Just start at the beginning.” Lewis offered.

“Okay… about 4.6 billion years ago, Mars formed through a core accretion…”

“Mark.” Lewis cut him off again. Everyone else was smiling, attempting not to laugh. She wanted Watney to take this serious but she knew that cracking jokes was how he dealt with stress.

“Sorry.” Mark apologized again. He cleared his throat. “So, I guess, Sol six. We were leaving the Hab, making our way to the MAV. I was attempting to tell Lewis an idea for shoring up the MAV to keep it from tipping. It involved using the cabling from the solar farm as guylines. And using the rovers as the anchor points. Although the difficult part would have been getting the cables around the MAV itself. But, uh, obviously, I didn’t get to finish that thought. The Comm array thought it would be cool to detach." Mark started explaining. 

"One of the thin antennas managed to slam into me. Along with a bunch of other debris. But the antenna punctured my suit and myself. Honestly, the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. I’ve never been shot but I’m going to assume that the feeling was similar. The last thing I remember before waking up was Johanssen…” He glanced to her. She was leaning forward, her arms resting on the table. “Reaching out for me.” Mark finished as Beth’s eyes cast downwards.

“Between using up my CO2 filters and N2 tank, as well as a portion of my O2 tank, I’d have to assume that I was asleep for about eleven and half hours. Waking up was one of the most confusing moments I’ve experienced. When the debris hit me and I felt the suit decompress, I accepted that I was going to die. It didn’t take long, just that few seconds between being hit and landing. That’s all it took to accept that this was the end. We trained for every possible scenario. Even though, being hit by wreckage in a sandstorm wasn’t one of them, I was still ready for the outcome. Except, that was when I thought I was going to die. Waking up changed that. I didn’t realize how right away though. I had to take care of the immediate problem, the antenna in my side.” Mark licked his lips, he looked to the small kitchen section. Vogel had already risen from his seat and retrieved Mark a drink.

“Thanks.” Watney said as he took the bottle. Vogel simply nodded before taking his spot. “So, I landed face first which caused the antenna to be at a strong oblique angle.” Mark placed the heel of his hand against his abdomen and angled it properly. “That caused torque on the wound and suit, which sealed the breach. Then blood from the wound went to the hole and evaporated providing an even better seal. Not a perfect one but one that let me live.” He took a sip of the juice Alex provided him. “I did what we trained to do at that point. I yanked the antenna out, which hurt almost as much as it going in. Used my breach kit and sealed the hole. All in all, in was no different than what we practiced.” Mark explained.

“Then I had to make the trek up the hill I rolled down. Under normal circumstances it would have been easy. But I stumbled a lot, which pulled on the wound in my side. Each time that happened I felt the injury pull and more blood flow from it. It felt warm against my abdomen and my leg as it bled. Took me about twenty-five minutes to climb that damn hill. Once I reached the top, that’s when I knew I was fucked. The MAV was gone. I stared at the empty landing stage longer than I realized.” Mark said, remembering that moment. This being the first time he had thought about it since it happened. “I remember thinking it was a mirage, that I was seeing things. Or not seeing things. But everything that happened hit me as hard as the Comm array did and I realized that the MAV was indeed gone.”

Everyone shifted, uncomfortable with thinking about that day. Trying to imagine themselves in Mark’s situation. “Basically, I thought I was going to die in that split second I was hit. Then I wasn’t dead and then I came to the somber realization that I was going to be dead. Luckily, I was wrong about that but it was difficult to convince myself otherwise at first. Stranded on a planet when everyone thinks you are dead. With no way to communicate with anyone isn’t the most hopeful of situations. But, after getting to the Hab and getting out of my suit, I cleaned the wound. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, just bled like a bitch. Between local anesthetic, pain mediation and the adrenaline wearing off, I soon passed out. Slept amazingly well considering. Pretty sure the drugs had something to do with it.” Mark went quiet, everyone digested what he was finally explaining.

“You guys know what happened. I grew potatoes, I got Pathfinder, I destroyed Pathfinder, the Hab breached and I lost my crops. You all were apprised of the situation as soon as you could be. I don’t want to sit here and just rehash a story that you all know already. So, how about you ask me questions and I’ll do my best to answer them.”

The crew exchanged glances, they all had dozens of questions. The reports that NASA gave them were superficial. The bare minimum of Mark’s daily activities. Those reports didn’t include how Mark was feeling or what he was thinking. No one spoke up.

“Oh come on, I know there has to be something you all want to ask. Anything at all.” Mark offered, feeling better about talking with the crew. But if they continued hesitating his new found confidence would quickly crumble.

“What was the hardest thing you had to do?” Johanssen was the first to speak up. Mark looked to her, appreciative that she broke the silence. Knowing that after that first question, everyone would have an easier time asking.

He sighed as he thought over the eighteen months. “Physically, the hardest thing I had to do was shovel all the dirt into the Hab. It took forever and being the only one around, I had to do it. Which just really pissed me of more when the Hab breached because I worked so hard to get all that dirt in there. Emotionally, the hardest thing was just finding a reason to get up in the morning. I came up with a plethora of different ones. I wanted to see my parents again, I wanted to get to play fetch with my dog again. I didn’t want to die on Mars, I owed it to NASA to stay alive. I owed it to myself to stay alive.” Mark shrugged. “It was all really difficult to get out of bed some days. Just knowing that I had to face Mars again and do my best to not die.”

Beck watched Watney elaborate on details that were once held secret. He tried to keep his professional mind detached but there were so many questions he had. Ones that would look into the psyche of a person stranded for a year and half alone. Once he was sure that Mark finished answering Beth he posed his own question. “Was there a time you wanted to give up?” Beck had asked Mark about the morphine a while ago, but Watney brushed off the question.

“Yeah." Watney answered quicker than expected. "There were even a few times that I think I did give up. Those moments didn’t last long but they happened. After the Hab breached and the airlock launched me, I definitely gave up. I was going to let Mars win. That planet didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there. Except it kept trying to kill me while I couldn’t do anything to it.” Mark looked to his hands, he licked his lips. He was quiet for almost a minute. “I, um, thought about giving up a few times. Thought about how easy it would be just to breathe in a bunch of nitrogen or inject myself with a syringe full of morphine.” He paused again, the crew waited. It was difficult to listen but harder for Mark to explain. “I never got close to doing any of those things but, yeah, I thought about it.”

It was silent as everyone mulled over Mark’s words. “How did you cope with being alone?” Vogel asked, asking a slightly less depressing question.

Mark smiled and shook his head with a light laugh. “Well, I actually would just pretend a lot of the time that you were all still there. Just that you were never within eyesight. Turned into a lot of talking to myself. ‘Guys, it’s really not safe for me to be on this EVA alone, but I understand, let’s break protocol’. Or, ‘Wow, everyone sure is working late, guess I’ll go to bed alone’.” He shook his head again, amused at his own antics. “It worked sometimes. Then I got Pathfinder. Talking to people through text was nice. Even though most of the conversation was just status updates and technical knowhow. Did you know that no one at NASA asked me how I was? I mean, yeah, they asked me of my status at least twice a day. But not a single person asked how I was. Not sure if they wanted to know. I guess it would also have been a waste of time for them to be like, ‘And how are you feeling today, Mark?’. But it would have been nice.”

“How are you feeling today, Mark?” Martinez asked. Mark smiled.

“Y’know, pretty damn good. Thanks for asking.” The two chuckled.

“What was the scariest thing that happened?” Martinez followed up.

Mark pursed his lips in thought. “There were three moments. The first was the initial realization that I was stranded. Second was when I caused the explosion while making water and by far the scariest was when the Hab breached. Getting tossed around the inside of an airlock like a pinball was not fun. I would rather go through intense dental work over doing that again.”

“Also,” Vogel chimed in. “You burned Hydrazine to make water. Which is insane on its own. But what I’m stuck on is, how did you start a fire in the first place?”

Watney bit his bottom lip to keep himself from grinning. “Oh…” Mark stifled a laugh. Mark turned his attention to the pilot. “Ah, Martinez left behind a wooden cross? It burned really well. I think the lacquer on it helped to keep the flame.”

“You burned a crucifix?!” Martinez exclaimed.

“I was desperate! And it was the only flammable thing I could find! And I didn’t just burn the cross… I chipped it up into small pieces first.” Mark grinned as Martinez shook his head and muttered a prayer.

Lewis watched her crew, a small smile sitting on her lips. Pleased at their response and how well everyone was handling the situation. “Tell us about how felt getting Pathfinder.” Lewis finally spoke up, contributing to the conversation.

“It felt great. The trip there was awful. I had to navigate with shitty satellite images and Phobos. Plus, being stuck in a rover for an extended amount of time was almost torture. Couldn’t stand up without being outside. Couldn’t be outside without fifty kilograms of spacesuit on. Plus, there were no bathrooms and that was just... disgusting. But reaching Ares Vallis and finding Pathfinder, was such a great morale booster. I didn’t even care that it might not even work. I was just proud of myself for making it one piece. My work on modifying the rover paid off! And I was able to get Pathfinder working again so that made me twice as happy. Getting to talk to people again was…” Mark trailed off as he attempted to find the right words. “It was one of the best moments. That was really the first point that I believed I would get off Mars alive.

Because not only did NASA now know I was alive, but they had known for a while! Suddenly, everything that I had done felt worth it. But of course, like everything else about Mars, good things had to come to an end. The jubilation I felt when Pathfinder connected with Earth was a feeling I won’t soon forget. But the feeling of realizing that I electrocuted the probe and fired it beyond repair. That overshadowed every bit of optimism that I had. It was a fluke that it happened at all. A metal work bench, exposed electrical wires, the fact that the Mylar was still attached to the hull. I mean, for everything to be in place to let that happen was statistically minimal. Of course, getting stuck on Mars was too, so I shouldn’t be so surprised.” Mark finished with a shrug. “It doesn’t bother me so much now that I killed Pathfinder. Since I’m alive and here. But I do feel guilty for killing it. Poor thing.”

“Did you try to fix Pathfinder at all after that happened?” Beck asked.

“Not really. If I had spare circuitry and an electrical engineering degree maybe. But it was pointless to spend the time even trying.”

“Was there any skill or degree you wished you had? That would have made things easier?” Beth asked, using it as a follow up to Mark’s comment. Watney laughed a bit.

“Oh yeah. I wish I had a chemistry background. I might not have blown myself up. A computer science degree would have been great. I mean, I had to hack the rover which was mind boggling. Not only that but I had other computer problems arise and they drove me insane! A year and half is a lot of time for software to glitch and hardware to wear out. I was tempted to throw my laptop out the airlock several times. And I couldn’t just Google the problem like normal. I had to actually troubleshoot and problem solve on my own.” He shook his head thinking of all the times he wished he had Johanssen around to help. “Also, a medical degree would have been nice, as well as biology. Not to mention geology.” He looked around to the crew. “It’s almost like NASA picked people with those skills to go Mars on purpose.” Mark shrugged. “Weird.” Watney looked to Martinez. “Except didn’t really need piloting skills. Just another reason why I have no idea why NASA included you, Martinez.”

Rick chuckled. “And if I wasn’t here who would have piloted the MAV to save your sorry ass?” He pointed out. Mark nodded at his argument.

“Lewis is a well qualified pilot.” Mark said. 

"Yeah, yeah.” Martinez said.

“I am sure that eating only potatoes and rations has gotten rather tiresome.” Vogel interjected before the two got into a friendly spat. “Even myself, I am looking forward to Helena’s cooking upon returning to Germany. What meal are you ready to have back home?”

“Oh man, I tried my best to not think about this on Mars. Especially when my diet was almost strictly potatoes and vitamins but it was a difficult task. I would pay so much money to arrange having some deep dish pizza on the tarmac after we land. Or a medium-rare bacon cheese burger.” Mark closed his eyes thinking about the multitude of meals he desired. “But, the sappy part of me is just ready for whatever meal my Mom cooks. Whatever it is, I just hope it includes her homemade macaroni and cheese.”

The topic spawned a short conversation about meals they were looking forward to having. A reprieve from the emotionally heavy information that everyone was handling.

“So what is something that you did that you are proud of? Something that happened, that only could have happened, because you were on Mars for so long?” Martinez asked.

Mark hummed with thought. “I’m pretty damn proud of successfully growing potatoes. I wouldn’t have been able to germinate an entire crop in the original mission timeline. The extra time provided a lot of insight into how well plants can grow in Martian soil. I’m still writing papers and reports about it.”

“Speaking of potatoes,” Beck cut in. “Yay or nay to ever eating one again?”

Mark stared hard at the doctor. “If I ever see another spud in my entire life it will be too soon.” Watney said with a deadpan expression. The crew laughed.

"That's fair." Beck said. 

“Is there anything that you want to tell us?” Lewis asked softly. “Anything we might not think to ask about?” She wanted to make sure that they used this time to Mark’s best advantage. Melissa had a feeling that she wouldn’t be able to wrangle him to sit down for another heart-to-heart. Unless Mark wanted to do it. She didn’t want this to become a superficial conversation about a serious topic. Watney was quiet, having trouble finding what to say. It was his hesitation that confirmed to Lewis that there was a lot he wanted to say. “Anything at all, Mark. We are here to help.” She reminded him.

Shifting in his seat, Mark rested his hand on the back of his neck. His fingers digging into the muscle and pulling downwards. “I have nightmares every night." He admitted. "Some worse than others. Some of them are scenes replayed of shit that happened. Others are out of body experiences where I’m watching myself and something happens. Something I did, but it didn’t go like in reality. I watch myself reducing Hydrazine and the Hab blows up. But I die. The Hab breaches but I die. I’ve had nightmares that I never get off Mars. Dream logic takes over; I’m stuck there forever despite that being impossible.” He sighed. “It’s exhausting.” In that moment the crew could tell just how worn out Mark still appeared to be. Despite being healthier in appearance he still seemed drained. 

“That’s not even the worse one. I accepted that I could have died on Mars and that hasn’t changed. I’m just incredibly lucky that I didn’t die. The dream that is the worse is that everything goes wrong, I mean everything. The resupply of Hermes fails. And we all know the outcome of that situation.”

Everyone remained quiet. Well aware of what would have happened if the Taiyang Shen failed to reach Hermes. No one made a sound.

“Those are the nights I wake up in a cold sweat. Reminding myself that didn’t happen, everyone is safe. But the dream is so real. I get to Schiaparelli and NASA tells me you all have died. I can see the message on the screen. ‘Mark, the crew is dead. This is your fault’." His voice caught in his throat at the last words. "And I still feel this ghost of guilt for something that never happened. I think it’s because I do feel guilty about all this. The money, resources and effort that it took to save me. The fact that you guys have spent just as much time away from home as me. Committed mutiny in the meantime. I’m eternally grateful to every person that invested all their time to do so, don’t get me wrong. It’s just difficult comprehending that.” He was quiet for a few moments. “And I don’t know how to make that feeling stop.” Watney blinked, doing his best to not cry in front of everyone. He forced a smile. “Probably would have been easier just to leave me there. I could have lived my days as the King of Mars.” He joked, deflecting the emotion that was trying to work its way out.

“But then we’d be down a botanist and engineer.” Martinez responded. “And me a best friend.” He admitted. Mark looked up towards Martinez. He could feel the emotion swell in his chest. He was losing the fight.

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Mark.” Beck added.

“Ja, I think we did the world a favor going back for you.” Vogel supplied.

Beth wiped her eyes with her palms. “Are you crying, Johanssen?” Mark accused, despite being on the verge of tears himself.

“No,” She said with a sniffle. “I’m just happy that you are here.”

Mark felt the pressure in his chest abate as a few tears managed to fall.

“I think everyone made the conscious choice to save you, Mark.” Lewis said. “Everyone wanted you home, whether they knew you personally or not. If they didn’t want to save you, then the rescue effort wouldn’t have happened. You have nothing to feel guilty over, especially since it wasn’t your choice to be left behind. We were righting a wrong. Solving a problem, just like we do every day. And I’d do it again.” The rest of the crew chimed in with agreement. “And if there is ever a time you have another nightmare or a panic attack, or even feel uncomfortable, let us know. It doesn’t have to be a full explanation but we’ll do what we can to help.”

“I don’t know what I did to be a part of such a great crew.” Mark said after a few seconds. Martinez was the first to get out of his seat, he crossed the table and held his arms out to Watney. Without hesitation, Mark stood up and embraced his friend. The rest of the crew followed suit, joining in on the hug. “Thank you guys, thank you.” Mark repeated, feeling that he couldn’t say it enough.

Slowly, everyone let go. Giving Mark individual hugs before one final word of encouragement. 

"You're  stuck with us, man." Martinez said as everyone stood around. 

"More like you are stuck with me." Mark corrected him. 

Lewis stood at his side, her comforting hand on his shoulder. "Is there anything else you want or need to tell us?" She asked, wanting to make sure that Watney got the chance to say everything he needed. 

"No, I think I'm good for now. I do feel better. Probably feel the affects more later but it helped." 

"Good. You know where to find us all if you think of anything else you want to share." 

"Will do, Commander."

After a few minutes of idle conversation, the crew slowly dwindled. Leaving the Rec to get ready for bed. Soon it was just Watney and Johanssen. He turned to face the sysop. She looked unsure. “I have one last question, if that’s okay?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, anything.”

Beth hesitated before pressing on. “Are you… scared? To return to Earth?” She asked in a quiet voice.

Watney went to respond but he closed his mouth. His brow creased in thought. “Um,” He stammered a bit. “I, um. I’m not sure.” 

Johanssen nodded once. She followed suit with the rest of the crew, leaving Watney alone with thoughts.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 731

Why did I let Johanssen ask me that last question? I was doing fine, great actually, up until that moment. I had mentally prepared for all the questions that the crew managed to ask. There were no surprises. Until Beth has to ask if I’m scared to go back to Earth. I have always been a ‘here and now’ sort of guy. I work on the current problem until I solve it and then move on to the next. I’ve always been that way, even before Mars. That method just proved handy when stranded on a desolate planet. Don’t get me wrong, I can plan for the future. On Mars I realized that I needed to be able to stay alive for at least four years. In college, I had a plan to complete my education in a reasonable amount of time. But those instances were different. For those, I had an obtuse goal that I completed smaller tasks to complete the greater picture. I still only worked on small ‘projects’ to finish the larger one.

I’ve never been the one to look to the future for possible problems. What’s the point? Worrying about what might be an issue later takes attention from the current problem. Ultimately, just making life more difficult. Because you aren’t taking care of what is happening in front of you. Then you have more problems than you can deal with and you’ll spiral out of control. Ending in a fiery crash that might be hard to recover from. I’ve seen it happen to a lot of people.

So, when Johanssen asked if I am scared to go home, my initial reaction was: No, why would I be? This then caused me to ask myself: Should I be? That’s when things spiraled out of control and I crashed in a fiery mess. I started asking myself what Earth will be like when I get home. What will be different? How will things be different? Not only in general, but for myself. Before Beth asked me about going home, the only thought I had about Earth was: I cannot wait to get there. I had zero worries about being on Earth. If a problem arose, I’d deal with it once I was home. We have over 100 days left in space. Over 100 days that I will now be thinking about every possible problem that could be waiting back home.

I’ve spent two and half years away from Earth. I will concede to the point that the rest of the crew has been away for the same amount of time. However, they all were in constant contract with humanity. While I spent several months as the lone citizen of Mars. Talking to no one buy myself, my potato plants, and the busted Sojourner Rover.  I don’t know what to expect from Earth. I have no plan to deal with the problems I will face once home. I can’t work on one issue and move on to the next. There are no tasks to complete. The only thing I can do is wait and see what happens.

And that scares the shit out of me.

July 8, 2037

“Yes, I am aware that he is alive. No, it wasn’t some scam to collect on his life insurance policy. How could you even suggest such a thing? You think that I won’t come find you and personally kick your ass for suggesting that? Like hell I won’t. Oh, okay, sure. Report me, see what happens. All I know is that you’d lose that case. Thinking that my wife and I are involved in the world’s most complicated con. Just to collect on our son’s insurance? What was your name again? I’m going to—,” Richard was cut off when Lynnette reached up and took the phone away from her husband. She hung up. “What’d y’do that for?” He asked as he watched her slip the phone into her purse.

“Because I don’t need you making a scene with another insurance company about Mark.” Lynnette said as she rested into the backseat of the taxi. “The last thing we need is that person going to another one of those tabloids. And there being another outrage article about Mark.” She said as she looked up to her husband.

“You know all those are bogus, Lyn.” Richard said as he sank into the seat as well.

“Yes, but I hate dealing with all those reporters. The ones who think it is polite to come up to me in the grocery store or the library. I don’t want people thinking that there is a reason to bother us.” She sat up, turning to face her husband. “And that’s just what we are dealing with. Imagine how ravenous those reporters are going to be once Mark is finally home.” She sighed. “I just want things to be as easy as possible once we finally have him back." 

Richard was quiet for a moment, he nodded before taking Lynnette’s hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just difficult to listen to some asshole on the other end of the line tell me Mark faked his death for the money.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them, darling.” She said as she relaxed once more. The taxi was approaching their destination. “I’m sure Mark will have more than a few colorful words for them once he is here to straighten everything out.”

“I’m sure he fucking will.” Richard said as he looked out the window. Lynnette rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. Like father, like son.

The Watney’s had a flight from Chicago to Houston the previous day. They were on their way to talk with Mark again. They wished they could more often but it was difficult to find the time. A lot of coordination had to be set up for them to have an extended conversation. Hermes was still several light-minutes away. They were a bit closer than the last time. Their last conversation took over nine hours due to the delay. Another reason why it was difficult to set aside time for such a chat. Despite how tricky it could be, everyone worked together to make it happen. Mark’s parents deserved every moment they could with their son. Even if he was almost twelve light-minutes away.

The cab pulled curbside in front of the Johnson Space Center. With the fare paid, the couple exited the car and looked at the huge expanse of buildings. It was a complicated layout. They had gotten lost the first time they visited. Long before Mark had ever gone to Mars. Back then they were just another set of parents, but now they were well recognized by the staff. In the initial two months of Mark's 'death' NASA interacted with the Watney’s on a daily basis. There were procedures to be completed following the death of an astronaut. No matter how difficult they were.

Richard and Lynnette came to know the senior staff of NASA. As well as other key employees. Going over the procedures only took six weeks. Other than the memorial service, NASA assumed their business with the Watney's was over. Until Mark proved to be alive. Since NASA never had an astronaut die and return to life, they were in uncharted territory. The Watney’s became heavily involved in the rescue. Not the technical side but the personal side. Everyone was sure to keep them up to date. Not only did NASA want to keep Mark’s parents informed, they asked for their opinion. No one had gone through this before. New protocol had to be created. Richard and Lynnette became unsuspecting consultants. The couple was happy to provide answers to any questions. They offered anything and everything to prevent this situation from happening to another family.

After checking in and receiving visitor badges, the Watney’s waited for their escort. They didn’t have to wait long for Annie Montrose to appear in the lobby. She wore a crisp, dark grey skirt suit and greeted the couple with a smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Watney.” Annie started as she came to a stop in front of the them. “How are you this morning?” She asked the pair. They responded with positive answers. “Great to hear. Right this way.” She said turning on her heel to escort them through the building. “How was the flight in?” Annie asked.

“Not bad.” Richard answered as he looked up to the ceiling. Still impressed with the size of the building.

“Good. And how about traffic?” She asked, keeping the small talk going as they went to meet up with Venkat Kapoor.

“Nothing compared to Chicago.” Lynnette answered this time. Her response caused Annie to smile softly.

“I have actually never been.” The PR Director admitted.

“Oh, you’ll have to make the time to visit.” Lynnette said as her gait lined up with Annie’s. “It is a wonderful place. I’m sure Mark would be love to show you the city. He knows the place like the back of his hand. He’s a human GPS when it comes to Chicago. I think you could blind fold him and he could make his way home.”

“Now that I would like to see.” Annie said.

Mrs. Watney smiled. The trio was quiet for a moment. “Are you married, Annie?” Lynnette asked, breaking the silence.

Annie raised a brow out of confusion before answering. “No. I am not.” 

“Neither is Mark.” Lynnette responded. Her words conveying a hint of annoyance at the distinct lack of a daughter-in-law.

“Don’t start playing match maker, Lyn.” Richard said as he looked to his wife. Then to Annie. “She’s just put out that she's the only one without pictures of a grandchild to share with her book club.”

Lynnette looked up to Richard. He stood a good nine inches above her. “I went from having my son, to losing him. Then maybe losing him, to finally getting him back. I think it is perfectly fair for me to want at least one grandchild.”

Annie laughed. She had been working with Mark’s parents for a few weeks now. They were a delightful couple and she saw where Mark got a lot of his personality from. She was almost seriously considering that trip to Chicago. If just for the chance to spend time with the Watney’s outside of work. Annie had been assisting them with the sudden media attention. It wasn’t just for their sake, but also for NASA’s. Annie didn’t want them saying the wrong thing to reporters. Outside of the organization, Mark’s parents were the next best source of information. They were kept up to date and knew details that some employees were unware of. Richard and Lynnette also knew things that NASA didn’t. Their conversations with Mark were private. Held over the same channel used by the flight surgeon for doctor-patient confidentiality.

“I’m sure fixing Mark up once he is home won’t be a problem.” Annie said as they approached the end of a hall. They stopped in front of a bank of elevators. Pressing the up arrow, they waited. “Just as long as it doesn’t make my job difficult.” She added.

“That boy seems to make everything difficult.” Richard said passively. Lynnette elbowed her husband.

“That is the truth.” Annie responded as the elevator arrived.

The trio found their way to Kapoor’s office. Annie passed off the responsibility of escort to Venkat. She bid her farewells. Promising to make it out to Chicago soon before leaving to tend to her responsibilities. The Director of Mars Operations shook Richard’s hand and hugged Lynnette. They exchanged the same pleasantries that Annie had done.

“I’m sure you are eager to talk with Mark.” Venkat started as he guided them out of his office and towards Mission Control. “The last update we received from Hermes was last night just before midnight. Everything on the ship is in working order and holding up fine. Commander Lewis reports that Mark is also doing well. She didn’t go into detail but mentioned that the crew had a lengthy sit down together. For the first time since his rescue. The update included a report from Dr. Beck. He is happy to say that Mark is in good health and continually improving. His weight is up; the physical therapy is going well.” Kapoor explained, updating Mark’s parents with everything they wanted to know.

Venkat was in constant communication with the couple. Mainly via email. The update was similar to the last one Kapoor had received but he relayed the information none the less. Venkat knew that if it was him in this situation he would want to know everything. No matter how trivial the details seemed. 

Mission Control was expecting them. The link between Earth and Hermes had been established and confirmed. Venkat went over a few technical details for communicating. In case Richard and Lynnette had forgotten since their last visit. Once they we comfortable, the couple was left to talk with their son.

They were able to send Mark daily emails. But getting to talk with him in ‘real time’ was better. Knowing that their son was actively talking to them provided a feeling of relief.

SECURE LINK ESTABLISED.
JSC LOCAL TIME: 0715

JSC [0715]: Hello, darling. We hope you are doing well. We love you very much. Venkat updated us as much as he could. Mostly details about your ship and some about you. How have you been? How are things going?

HRM [0727]: Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I am doing better. Not much has happened since my last email. I talked with everyone about Mars. Not all of it but some of it. Seemed to help. Until Johanssen asked me if I was worried about going home. I don’t have anything to be worried about do I? When I get home?

JSC [0741]: We don’t think there is anything you will have to worry about. And even if there is, we will be there to help you. As well as everyone that has already been helping. Things will probably be different but that's expected. Nothing that you won’t be able to handle we’re sure.

HRM [0754]: Right. Probably. I’m sure you are right. Just been out of touch with the world for so long. Worried about how things might have changed. Are there flying cars?

JSC [0807]: No. No flying cars. Things won’t be so different. It won't change who you are or how you do things. Chicago is still Chicago. Buzz is still Buzz. You are still you. Everything that you know is still how you left it. The only things that will be different are the things you want to be different.

HRM [0819]: This is 2037. We can send people to Mars but still no flying cars. Figured Google would have been all over that by now. Ah, well. And I suppose you are right. How is the family? What have you guys been up to?

JSC [0831]: Everyone is doing well. Your Uncle Russ is convinced that you’ll win some sort of award for your ‘troubles’ as he puts it. Nora is certain that someone is going to make a movie about you being stuck on Mars. She wants to know who you would want to play you. Other than that, we are doing good. Dealing with some unexpected media attention. But Annie Montrose has been helping with that. Speaking of, she is a very nice lady, Mark. And unmarried.

HRM [0846]: I better get a damn award. And tell Nora, I don’t know. Is Matt Damon to old? What sort of media attention? Tell the reporters to fuck off. And Mom, no. Please tell me you didn’t try and set me up with Annie. Oh my god. Maybe I’ll just stay in space.

JSC [0901]: Nothing that we can’t handle. People thinking we’d be a good source of information about you. Which is true, but we aren’t going to tell them anything. And you do not get to stay in space. We miss you too much to let you stay up there.

HRM [0912]: I miss you guys too. And I am so ready to not be in space any more. I am ready for a very long vacation. Somewhere tropical. Mars and space is cold. I need somewhere warm. Preferably with a white sand beach and a nice waitress to bring me unlimited cocktails. Ones with little umbrellas in them.

JSC [0924]: You will probably get all the vacation time you want once you are finally on Earth. Dad says you should try Costa Rica.

HRM [0935]: Costa Rica! Sign me up. Might have to wait until all the legal nonsense gets settled once I get home. After you sent me that email with that National Enquirer article, I got a message from the legal department. They were all over that. The guy that composed the email asked if it had any merit. Makes me wonder where he got his law degree. How much fallout has there been since I came back from the dead?

JSC [0947]: A fucking lot. Like Jesus Christ, boy. I’m going to have to insist that when you get home you consider switching insurance companies. Not only because the one you currently have is awful. They might not want to do business with you once I get through with them. That is the only current headache. Everything else has either been sorted or you have to deal with personally.

HRM [0959]: Sorry about that. I will look into that once I’m home. I wonder if any insurance company will want to insure me after all this. I bet those rates will be outrageous. Oh well, that’s a problem for later. How long are you guys in Houston for?

JSC [1011]: The next three days. Kapoor is going to give your mother and I a proper tour of the building after lunch. Then tomorrow we get to sit on Mission Control with Hendricks to watch everything happen. I think we get to talk to again before we leave.

HRM [1023]: It’s Henderson, not Hendricks. And yeah, I heard that too. Which, I hate to go but astronaut stuff calls. Enjoy NASA. I love you guys.

JSC [1034]: We love you too, Mark. Stay safe. We’ll talk to you soon.

SECURE LINK DISABLED.

After their last message was sent, they disconnected the link. Richard stared at the screen before looking to his wife. Lynnette had tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked as he threw his arm around her shoulders.

Lynnette shook her head. “Nothing. I just miss him. And I’m glad that he is doing better. But I’m still worried. They have such a long time until they get home. I know he’s off Mars but… he’s just not home yet.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “I just want him home safe.”

“Commander Lewis and the rest of his crew will bring him home in one piece. If anything they have a better chance of getting home with Mark on board. He survived Mars, he can survive the trip back.” He said before giving her a light kiss on the forehead. “We’ll have him back just in time for Christmas.”

Lynnette managed a small smile. “That’ll be the best gift I could ever ask for.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Richard agreed. He wanted his son home just as much as his wife did. Mark was their only child and he would do anything for his son. “Let’s go find, Kapoor.” He said as stood from the seat, stretching out his back. Lynnette followed her husband.

“So, do you think I could convince Annie to go on a date with Mark?” Lynnette asked.

Richard groaned “Lynnnnnn.” 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 735

Talking with my parents was nice. As usual. It will be nicer when I actually get to see them again. And I don’t mean close enough for video communication. While that would be pleasant, I mean on Earth, face-to-face. A real conversation. Mission day 898 is when we’ll be back home. That feels so far away. The trip to Mars went so fast. So much so, I sort of wished the 124-day trip had been longer. I think it was because I was busy every day. As of right now I’m still on light duty. I check my botany experiments everyday but not much changes with plants. I want to work on the ship but I have a few more days and then another physical. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be cleared for normal duty.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 736

Wow, space travel is incredibly boring when there is nothing to do. I’ve thought of a way to keep myself occupied.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 736 (2)

Just kidding. Idea vetoed by the Commander. Sigh. That would have been fun.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 740

I’ve spent the last few days planning away. Nothing major, nor related to being an astronaut. But I have had a lot of time of my hands. What else am I supposed to do? If I am correct, which I should be, today is July fifteenth. Meaning, today is the good Commander’s birthday. When travelling with the same five people for months at a time, it is good to embrace every holiday. Yes, we consider birthdays holidays. Some holidays we get off work like everyone else, others we don’t. Birthdays are celebrated the same way. For the most part. 

Except for Commander Lewis. Who, for some unknown reason, dislikes birthdays. Well, her birthday anyway. So, naturally, we make sure to over celebrate Lewis’ birthday. Now I know that can be perceived as rude. If someone doesn’t want to think about their birthday shouldn’t have to. But, as much as she dislikes her birthday, I know she appreciates what we do for her. Even if historically that has just been embarrassing her. I think I have a pretty good birthday planned this year. The Commander’s last birthday in space will be a memorable one.

“No, Mark.” Beck said as he grabbed the towel in front of him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. The doctor’s allotted period of exercise coming to an end. Watney sighed.

“You’re being a chicken, Beck. I think we have a right to celebrate Lewis’ birthday.” Watney said as he stepped out of the way as Chris reached for his water bottle. “Just because she has given explicit instructions not to celebrate her birthday doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.” 

Beck stared at Watney. The doctor was an inch taller than the botanist but in that moment Beck seemed to tower over Mark. “I think that means that we should not.”

“We do it every year!” Mark said trying to convince his crewmate.

“We didn’t do it last year.” Beck replied after he gulped down a mouthful of water.

“Well, that’s because I… I wasn’t here.” Mark said awkwardly. Chris started to leave the gym area. Watney followed after him. “Come on, it’ll fun.” Watney blocked Beck’s path to the ladder. The younger astronaut squinted at the older. “I have a really cool thing planned and I want some help executing it.”

Beck sighed, resigning. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to not do anything.” Mark stated. Beck raised a brow. “I started this conversation under the assumption that you guys had planned something. Not that you guys would be lame and actually listen to Lewis about this.” 

“If this goes sideways I claim no knowledge of being a part of this plan. Even if I don’t have anything to do.” Beck said as he motioned towards the ladder. Mark stood the side and allowed the doctor passage.

“Just be around for dinner!” Watney called up the ladder.  “But be ready to sing!”

TO: R. Lewis
From: M. Lewis
SUBJECT: RE: Miss You

I know that Watney is going to do something for my birthday today. I just know it. I hate to admit it but last year was nice. I had no reminder. Given under the circumstances it wasn’t the best situation to enjoy that. I don’t mind that the crew wants to celebrate the occasion. I only wish I didn’t have to be a part of it. Plus, it isn’t the same in space. If only I knew what he was scheming. Maybe I should have let him pilot the ship. At least he would have been occupied. And Martinez wouldn’t have let anything happen.

Other than that, the status of the crew and Hermes remains unchanged. All sensors reading in the green and we are on track for our return home on schedule. I can only imagine how ready Watney is to be back on Earth. The entire crew is restless but he has some extra merit. We’ll be back before we know it.

I am hopeful that Mark will be cleared for full active duty again soon. He’s been keeping up with his physical therapy routine. As well as beginning his regular fitness regime. All-in-all, he appears to be back in good physical standings. I am concerned about his emotional state after his confession of his nightmares to the crew. The subject hasn’t resurfaced but if what he said is true, he is still suffering from those dreams. It’s difficult knowing that one of my crew members has this to deal with. Especially since I don’t know of a sure fire way to provide assistance. I have to wait until Mark comes for help. Something I hope he does sooner rather than later.

There are still things he hasn’t told us about. Everything Mark went through on Mars would be enough to hold a conversation over for a lifetime. He talked to us for a mere three hours. My training in the Navy and NASA to become a leader has let me deal with many things. Men and women going through tragic situations, leaving them traumatized. But I found with earthly tragedies, ones of war and violence were easy to find the empathy for. Not that I don’t feel empathy or sympathy for Mark’s situation, for what he going through. Being a fellow astronaut it is impossible not to. But to actuate his feelings to something I can understand has proved difficult. Mark’s situation was an accident. An awful incident against nature.

For my fellow sailors, putting a face on the evil that haunted them was easy. It was the enemy we were keeping at bay. This is what caused these new hardships in their lives. How can I do that for Mark when the evil was a sandstorm? It could have happened to anyone of us, but it happened to him. I am at a loss at how to help Watney.  Maybe I’ll indulge him for whatever he is planning for my birthday today. That might be a good start. I just hope whatever he is planning isn’t as bad as two years ago.

Love you,  
Melissa.

“You really planned something for the Commander?” Beth asked as she leaned against Mark’s work bench. He hunched over a microscope, examining a leaf on a wet mounted slide. “Chris said that he didn’t have to do anything for it. Do I have to do something?” She asked, waiting for Mark to turn his attention up to her. After gazing through the dual eyepieces, Mark looked up.

“No.” He said as he turned his attention back to the microscope. “All you have to do is be at dinner and sing happy birthday.” Mark said with his nose in the scope. He twisted the knobs to change the focus. “And Beck sucks at keeping a secret.”

Johanssen smirked. “It’s not really a secret that you were going to try something today.” Beth said as she moved away from the station to take a seat along the wall. “Considering that atrocious get together you called a party that we had on the way to Mars. I’m sure the Commander is not looking forward to tonight.”

Mark raised his head. “That atrocious get together was the best space birthday party this side of Milky Way. And I will not stand for such slanderous remarks about it.”

“We don’t have to wear party hats made of washed foil packs again, do we?”

“For the record, Martinez loved those hats. And no. I had other things to take care of this time. I didn’t have the time to craft party hats or any other favors.”

“It doesn’t matter if Martinez loved them, it was the Commander’s birthday.” Beth stood up, coming to stand across from Mark. She watched him work. The silence caused Watney to raise his attention from his experiment. The look on his face prompting Beth to talk. “What do you have planned anyway?”

Mark shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.” He said before returning to the microscope for the final time.

“Hey, Vogel.” Mark called as he caught the chemist floating away from the bridge as he exited the lab. Alex turned and waited for Watney to catch up with him. “How’s your German these days?”

“Ah… it is as good as ever. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. See you at dinner.” Mark said before disappearing down one of the semicones. Vogel shook his head. He was certain that he would never fully understand Mark Watney.

Martinez sat across from Mark in the Rec. “Come on, I can’t even have a hint?” The pilot begged of his friend. Dinner was soon and the crew would be gathering for their last meal of the day. “Did you make a piñata?”

“I didn’t make a piñata.”

“Dang. I love a good piñata.”

“I know you do.” Mark said as he tapped the screen of his tablet to flip the page of the e-book he was reading.

“This has to be really great if you won’t tell me about it.” Martinez said as he stood from the table. He went to the kitchenette area and started grabbing meals from the cabinets. It had become customary for everyone to enjoy their favorite meal on a special occasion. And on birthdays for the birthday person to not make their own dinner. Martinez took it a step further and started making everyone’s dinner. “Do you have any decorations to put up?”

“Nope.”

“A cake made of paper?”

“No.”

“Wrap her own clothes to give to her as presents?”

“Not this time.”

Martinez sighed. “Did you do anything? Is that it? You are just psyching everyone out? Just want to make everyone think you planned this big celebration and we are going to do nothing.”

“I have something planned.”

Rick squinted at Mark, despite Watney facing away from him. The pilot couldn’t figure out what the botanist was plotting.

Slowly, the rest of the crew gathered. The Commander the last to make her way down the ladder. She turned to face the Rec, her eyes closed. With caution she opened them. Pleased to not see any sort of indication of another birthday party. Everyone was sitting at the table, meals in front of them. Waiting on Lewis to join them. She took the open seat at the head of the table. Once seated, everyone dug into their food. Melissa only took one bite before looking at everyone. She was on high alert, her suspicions aroused.

“So, what is the gimmick this year?” She finally asked, unable to wait any longer. The crew shrugged before collectively turning their attention to Mark. Whom was unaware of the five sets of eyes on him as he ate his dinner.

He looked up. “Oh, you were asking me.” Mark said after washing down a bite of reconstituted beef stew. “No gimmick this year. Just thought we’d sing happy birthday. If that is okay with you?” Mark asked.

Lewis pursed her lips and shrugged. “I suppose that’d be alright.”

“We do have a guest singer.” Mark added as he set down his fork. The crew exchanged glances.

“Did you bring someone back from Mars with you?” Martinez asked.

“Ha. Ha. No.” Mark said as he pushed his meal to the side. He picked up his tablet and tapped a few icons before smiling. “Okay, everyone ready?” He asked, giving the crew a moment’s notice before the song began.

Everyone started in on Happy Birthday. Mark pressed play on his tablet, turning the screen to face the Commander. The guest on the screen featured her husband, Robert. A recording sent to Mark. One that he made sure to have enough time to get before Lewis’ birthday came around. Everyone grinned as they realized who was on the screen and sang with more jubilation in their voices. As the short song came to an end, Robert’s recording kept going.

“I know how much you dislike celebrating your birthday, babe. But I couldn’t say no to Mark’s request. I figured this would spare you from any crazy idea he’d try and conjure up. I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

The screen went black once the recording ended. Lewis’ hand covered her mouth as she was pleasantly surprised with their special guest. She moved her hand away, revealing a grin on her face. “Thank you.” She said sincerely. “But this still doesn’t mean I like my birthday!” She was quick to add. Her attempts at scolding the crew lost with the smile that she still presented. Her grin lessened to a soft smile. "But thank you, Mark. That was the best birthday I could have not asked for." 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 743

Man, it feels like I haven’t update this in forever. Nothing exciting has happened. Nothing worth logging over, at least in my opinion. But I’m bored, so here I am.

There are many ups and downs of space travel. The pros include: seeing sights few or no human has ever seen in person. Getting to do fun things in reduced gravity, getting to tell people you’ve been to space. Space in general. All awesome things. Downsides include: eating freeze-dried food for months at a time. The possibility of being abandoned on a planet. I don’t want to dwell on the bad. But one of the cons of space travel is the lack of gravity. Even the artificial gravity the spin of Hermes provides, it isn’t like Earth.

The crew are subjected to the problems that come from being without Earth’s gravity. Namely, bone and muscle loss. It’s an unavoidable consequence. ut there are many things that can be done to combat degradation. Rigorous exercise and eating protein and vitamin rich meals are two of the main ways. The third is through Pulsed Electromagnetic Field Therapy.

Back in 2009 NASA got themselves a patent using PEMF Therapy to assist in the regeneration of mammalian tissues. Research found that PEMF is great for repairing broken bones and traumatized tissue. Guess which astronaut of the Ares III crew had traumatized tissue? (And just regular traumatization but no amount of PEMF in the world can fix that.) The answer is me, if you hadn’t guessed. The entire crew is required to use PEMF therapy during the voyage. But, the good doctors back home want me to do more. Because it can’t hurt.

The technology has come a long way since my middle school days. (God, I’m old.) In all the medical supplies there is a one size fits all PEMF suit. NASA sent one because they are expensive to make and no need to send more weight. Although, the one size fits all is a joke. Since the suit's laced with electromagnets it isn’t that stretchy. It's designed to fit the largest crew member. Then comes with draw strings and clasps to accommodate smaller crew members. Vogel is the biggest of us all. Standing at six foot two, just under the maximum height cut off for an astronaut. I, however, am a short five foot ten. So wearing a suit designed for a guy five inches taller and about forty pounds heavier, I look ridiculous. That’s forty pounds heavier on a good day. Not when you’ve been on a starvation diet for a few months.

Wearing this suit is boring. It has to be plugged and I can’t go anywhere. I’m hoping within the next few weeks that I’ll be back on the normal regimen. The less I’m in the electronic Stay Puffed marshmallow suit the better. If only it could give massages at the same time.

After Mark’s session of PEMF Therapy came to an end, he managed his way out the suit. After folding it tight he replaced it to the correct cubby. Lunch time had come and gone and the crew tended to the evening tasks. Mark, however started rereading one of his novels. Still restricted to light work, his schedule was cleared before midday. Watney stretched out on his cot, settling in to a comfortable position for reading. A few minutes later he shifted, then again and again. The temperature in his quarters had yet to abate. The cooling system did little to dissipate the excess heat from the reactor. After several minutes of fruitless moving, Mark resigned from lying in bed.

The engineer wiped his forehead. A sheen of sweat beaded his skin. The issue with the positive heat feedback was spreading. It originated in Martinez’s room and spread to Watney’s. Now, Vogel’s room and Beck reported this morning that it felt clammy in Beth’s room. Curious, Mark exited the e-reader program and brought up the environmental monitoring application. The ideal ambient temperature of the living quarters was 23 degrees Celsius. Martinez’s room was at 30.3, Watney’s at 29.2 and Vogel’s registered at 28.9. Johanssen’s showed some elevation but it wasn’t anything outrageous.

Mark tapped a few icons to create a chart for the rising temperature trends. The initial rise was gradual, taking several weeks to rise three degrees. Since Mark’s rescue, the increase started more on an exponential curve than linear. There were 155 days left before the crew reached Earth. Mark extrapolated the data. The projected information showed that living quarters could reach a sweltering 40 degrees Celsius before the end of the trip. The idea of being stuck in a hot box with no escape made Mark’s skin crawl.

Living in a sauna was not the ideal situation but there was a worse outcome to be had. The excess heat was spreading in order to keep the reactor cool. If it overheated, it would shut off to prevent damage. If the reactor went into emergency mode, they would be stuck in space. Hermes was large enough that Mark wasn’t concerned about extra heat stranding them. There were protocols in place to dispel heat if the cooling vanes on the exterior of the ship failed. The issue that troubled Mark was the items on the ship that were heat sensitive. Several lab experiments had to remain in certain perimeters to be valid. Years of data collection would be unreliable. Which translated into wasted money.

Opening his laptop, Mark brought up the schematics to the heating conduits. He stared at the maze of pipes, junctions and relays for hours on end in an attempt to devise a solution. Everything he had come up with was superficial. Only ways to reroute the unwanted heat but never a way to stop the side effect. There were two major problems impeding a proper answer. The first was the tarnishing cooling vanes. They would have been replaced between trips and the only way to repair them is in a lab. Mark considered the idea of dismantling them one at a time to repair in the ship. The vanes proved too large for the cramped airlocks. A quick look at a spec sheet told him that would be a lost cause. No reason to even bother trying.

The second dilemma was on the inside of Hermes. There was no way to get inside the walls of the ship to repair damaged cooling lines. While the ship was in use. The more those failed, the more heat that would escape into the air. Rather than be routed out to space. One pipe in particular, drove Mark mad. The one that rattled behind the wall of his room. Setting his electronics aside, Mark stood and stared at the spot that vibrated. His fingers tapped his leg at the same beat as he worked out another possible solution.

Martinez walked past Mark’s room and stopped. He took a few steps backward. He watched Mark, looked at the same spot Watney stared at and then looked back to Mark. He waited a few minutes before clearing his throat. “Hey, Earth to Mark.” Rick said as he walked into the room. “What are you doing?” He asked as Mark shook his head and turned his attention away from the hidden problem.

“That rattling is driving me insane.” Mark said as he pulled his hand over his forehead and through his uneven cut hair. “And it's hot as hell in here.” There was an edge of agitation below Mark’s words.

“Yeah, it is. The temperature is even starting to raise in Beck’s room. Not fair that my home away from home is being affected by the same problem. Soon enough we’ll all be bunking in the Captain’s room.” Martinez said with a smirk.

“Six crew in one room might be just as bad as one in one of these rooms.” Mark replied as he looked at the laptop screen. “It’s just ridiculous there’s no way to fix this. I mean, what good is it to put vital equipment behind walls you can’t open?” Mark questioned with a shake of his head. He thought about the Rover and how he tore the inside apart with a hammer. The walls of the Hermes were a bit stronger than the carbon composite and plastic of the Rovers.

“I don’t know, man. Not a problem NASA expected to deal with.”

Mark had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Martinez’s response. This entire trip was a problem NASA didn’t expect to deal with. They didn’t expect the strong winds with the sandstorm on Sol 6. They didn’t expect anyone to do ‘die’ in that storm. NASA sure as hell didn’t expect a dead astronaut to come back to life. The expedition was one unexpected event after the next. It wasn’t anything to be controlled. But Mark was sick of people using that excuse to cover up for problems. “Yeah, but it is a problem. And we as the astronauts on this ship are expected to deal with any and all issues. Especially the unexpected ones.”

Rick watched Mark for a moment. He could sense the building agitation in his friend. “Okay. You’re right. We’ve let this go long enough.” Martinez looked to the wall. “How do you propose we fix this though? It’s the coolant system. It’s built into the haul. And if we puncture those lines, we’ll all be in for a rough time.”

These were issues that kept Mark up at night. The coolant circulating the ship was water. It is safer than the ammonia used in the External Thermal Control System. As well as being an efficient thermal transport fluid. However, if the water leaked out, the heat would no longer be transferable. “The lines should be strong enough to resist damage. Assuming we figure out how to get to them.” Mark moved his desk to get a view of an uninterrupted span of wall. “There are the joints were large panels come together. If we can remove even one of them, to get at one of the relay pumps, it could increase the efficiency of heat transfer.”

Despite always giving Martinez flack about being useless on this trip, he was far from it. He was Mark’s back up for engineering. Rick knew the layout of Hermes just as well as Mark did. He might not have the in-depth mechanical engineering background that Mark did, but he knew his stuff. Years working in tight spaces and flying planes gave Martinez the knowledge required. Rick used Mark’s laptop to access the environmental monitoring. He looked through the sensor readings until he found what he wanted. The temperature probe that kept track of the relay station for the crew’s quarters. Which was situated in the wall separating Watney’s and Martinez’s rooms. Martinez frowned.

“What?” Mark asked, noting the sour look on Rick’s face.

“This indicates that the temperature of the relay is at 24 degrees.” Martinez said with his attention still on the computer.

Mark stepped towards the wall, placing his hand over the smooth surface. “No way it’s 24 degrees in there. The temperature probe must be shot.”

“Meaning we have no way of knowing what the actual temperature of the pump is at. If it gets to hot it’ll fail. And if the coolant stops circulating no one will be able to stay in this part of the ship. It’ll just get to hot.”

It was an outcome that didn’t need stating but one that required action. “Well…” Mark started as he moved his hand along the wall. “Should start out fixing that thermometer, then go from there…” His voice trailed. “How much water is in the coolant system?” He asked as he turned from the wall.

Martinez shrugged. “Um, well, the tanks have about about twenty-two kilos of water in each.”

Mark nodded. “So about forty-four liters of water.”

“Yeah, what are ya’ thinkin’?”

“If we could cycle the water out of the system with new water, cooler water. It could help the system over all.”

“With what water? We already drink recycled urine.”

“We could always make some.” Mark said with a spreading grin.

Martinez shook his head. “You’re crazy, Watney.”

Mark chuckled. “I’m kidding.” Watney turned his attention to the wall. “Besides,” He shook his head. “It would be too dangerous to open the closed system.” Mark went on as he thought about the flaws in his own plan. “We’d have to shut down the cooling circuit. It’s already not working, turning it off might cause worse problems. I have no idea how long it would take to evacuate and reintroduce water into the pipes.” A ghost of frustration passed over Mark. He took a deep breath and released that tension.

They turned to look at one another before finally calling Lewis to fill her in on the situation. They all decided that they had to get into the wall. If only to fix the thermometer. Armed with a drill and several bits, Mark used a Sharpie to put a dot on the wall where to drill. Holding the tool, he attached the bit and pressed the trigger and the drill whirred away. “Anyone else want to do this?” Mark asked as he looked to Martinez and Lewis. They both shook their head. The fact that Mark drilled the top of a Rover off absent from their present thoughts.

Four hours and seven drills bits later, there was a big enough hole in the wall to slip in a thermometer. Mark used a towel to remove the sweat dripping in his face. Him and Martinez ended up taking shifts to get the work done. Working in 30-degree heat didn’t make it any easier. Mark made several comments about missing the frigid Martian atmosphere. He was sure to say that he would take this situation over that one any day. Mark knelt down to push the new thermometer through the hole. They waited for the new temperature to register.

“37-degrees.” Mark said, holding up the readout for Martinez to see. “That’s still well within range. High end is over 45 degrees. This relay itself is fine, it’s another one that must be underperforming. And also have a busted sensor.” Watney groaned. There were dozens of relay pumps in the ship. It would take the entire rest of the trip to find the one that was defective.

“I’m thinking we’re just going to have to deal with the heat.”

“Until the labs and cold storage start heating up.” Mark pointed out.

“I believe that will have to be dealt with when it happens.” Lewis chimed in from the doorway. The two men turned to face their captain. Martinez was ready to accept that answer but it didn’t sit well with Mark. Lewis sensed that Mark was about to protest, she put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll contact NASA, tell them what we did and see what suggestions they have for us. Like always, we got everyone on Earth backing us up. We’ll let them solve this problem. Okay?”

Watney hesitated. “Okay.”

“You aren’t alone anymore.” Lewis gently reminded him. “Now, go get a shower and I’ll see what cold refreshment I can find.”

“Everything is freeze dried on this ship.” Mark commented as he headed for the showers.

“I’ll make it work, Watney. You aren’t the only one who can play MacGyver.”

“I look forward to it.” He smirked.

“Okay, now go clean up. You smell like you did when we first brought you on board.”

“Now that’s just rude.” 

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 748

Sixty-one days back on Hermes with the crew and Beck has given me great news. The medical team back on Earth is satisfied with my progress! They have reviewed Beck’s reports and have officially cleared me for duty! The pneumonia cleared up, my cracked ribs healed and I’ve gained weight. I’m not where I started when we left Earth. But I’ve put on enough pounds that the NASA docs aren’t fretting anymore. Lewis’ recent update helped my case. My most recent actions displayed an obvious readiness and ability to resume assigned tasks. Her words, not mine. But who cares, I am allowed to work again.

No more begging to do something. Asking if it is okay to check on my plants. I can do what I want. Within reason. I should add. I’m still restricted to light duty. If I engage in a task that Lewis deems outside of my capabilities she can stop me. There isn’t anything I have on my docket that should be cause for concern. Personally, I feel that anything I do in the comfort of this ship will be a cake walk. Compared to Mars. Especially at the end. Some mornings finding the strength just to stand was the hardest task for the day. Despite everything Hermes has been through, the ship’s in decent shape. Holding up and chugging away. She was designed for continuous use for five missions. Ares 3 just took over some time for Ares 4. I do feel bad about that. Taking over Ares 4 mission time. Using their MAV effectively scrubbed their mission.

I understand well that they probably were more than happy that I was able to use it. Ares 4 wanted me saved as much as I wanted myself saved. I just hope that a few astronauts can be given the chance to be on the Ares 5 crew. Or maybe someone at NASA can convince Congress for more Mars missions. That’s the real answer. After spending a year and half there I can attest that there is a lot that we as a race of Humans can learn. With the right amount of funding anything is possible. (Said every politician ever). But with the right amount of imagination, everything is possible. (Said every sappy astronaut ever, Aka myself).

I’m sure once I get back home I’ll be wanted to speak to every Congress person in person, for hours. Explaining why space travel and exploration is important to humanity. At this point, it should be obvious. I realized why it was crucial back in like 2002. I should not have to be going over these same reasons in 2036. Sometimes it just takes the right person to explain for someone to finally understand. If I can be the person to change minds, then I’ll do whatever it takes. I already know my presence to be a keynote speaker has been requested. By several dozen people. University of Chicago wants me to do a speech for the next graduating class. The mayor of every town and city I’ve ever set foot in wants me to make an appearance. I’m pretty sure people are creating new talk shows so they can have me a guest.

Let me get it on the record. I am not looking forward to doing any of it. Giving a speech for a graduating class or a presentation for NASA doesn’t seem bad. It’s the public talk shows that is giving me anxiety. I know those shows are scripted and the guests talk about what they want. But they will by default be more personal than giving a bunch of college kids advice. This is really far off and I shouldn’t be thinking about it now. But life in space gives a person a lot of time to think.

On a lighter note, my plants are doing great. Germination of the F25 generation of Brassica rapa has been successful.

Floating in Zero-G, Mark tapped away on his personal tablet. He hooked his foot around a small hold to keep him in place. He had finished his daily tasks early. The rest of the crew still helping him with the bigger things that needed to finished. Despite Mark insisting he did not need their help. Lewis ignored his protests. Informing him to just wait a little bit longer before returning to full duty. She reminded him that she still knew what was best for each person on her crew. Especially what was good for the crew as a whole. Mark agreed. Not because he wanted to avoid confrontation, but because Lewis knew. She knew exactly what each person could do and what needed to happen for things to operate smoothly.

As it turned out, Mark didn’t mind all that much. It gave him the chance to catch up. A lot happened on Earth while he was gone. Scientific breakthroughs, new blockbusters, economic changes and political advances were just a few topics. Watney spent a little bit each day reading articles and watching movies. He claimed that watching the reboot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was vital to his enrichment as a person.

“Whatcha doing up here?” Martinez asked as he floated into the observation area with Mark.

Watney looked up from his tablet. “I am doing a very vital part of my job.” He said as he turned his attention to the screen. He tapped a few more buttons. “Tweeting.”

150 days till Ares 3 is back home. Can’t wait to see you Earth! #Ares3 @NASA

Rick laughed as he floated towards Mark. He grabbed hold of the opposite wall to impede his movement. “We all took turns tweeting in your absences.” Martinez said as he reached for the tablet. Mark handed it over willingly. “Most of the time we never knew what to say. Just tweeted about work. People never responded to the tweets for the content. They always asked about you.” Rick said as he scrolled through the recent feed. The tweets had thousands of likes and shares. The first tweet Mark made upon his return had an astronomical amount of attention. It was short and sweet. ‘I’m back. Did you miss me?’ Martinez was continuously impressed with how Mark communicated with people. He always knew what to say and when to say it. Yet another reason he was such a valuable crew member.

“Yeah, I read the backlog. You guys did a decent job. Could have had a little more fun with it. Posted some pictures. But I get why you didn’t.” Mark said taking the tablet back and securing it to the wall with Velcro. The crew needed to make up for Mark’s work on the ship. Posting tweets for the internet never ranked high on the list. No matter how much Annie Montrose asked them to make the feed more active. “Actually, come here.” Mark grabbed the tablet with a satisfying rip of release from the Velcro. He opened the camera application then hesitated.

Mark watched himself and Martinez on the screen. “Are you gonna take the picture or not?” Rick asked as he kept up his smile. Just in case Mark had been waiting to snap the photo when he wasn’t ready.

Watney lowered the tablet. “I haven’t taken a picture of myself yet.” He said in a tone that conveyed embarrassment and doubt.

“What? Are you nervous to take a selfie?” Rick asked almost incredulous. Mark didn’t answer verbally, he shrugged his shoulders. Neither confirming nor denying Martinez’s question. “You are!” He said, surprised.

“Maybe!” Mark shot back. “I know it’s silly but I just, it’s hard to, uh…”

“Mark,” Martinez started with a firm voice. “Nothing you think is silly. If you don’t wanna take a picture of yourself yet, then don’t. You don’t have to explain yourself to me or anybody else.” He repositioned himself along the wall. “But if you're worried about taking a picture because of how you look. You look great, man. I wouldn’t have wanted to have my picture taken if I were you when I was first rescued. ‘Cuz you were rough around the edges. But you look better now.” Martinez said sincerely.

“Thanks.” Mark said as he considered Martinez’s words.

“Sounds like there is going to be a ‘but’ in there.”

Mark shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine with how I look. Might not be perfect but people expect us to look a certain way. And I don’t really meet that expectation at the moment.” He explained.

“So, you’re concerned about posting a picture? And people saying rude things about what you look like?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Mark agreed quickly. “I don’t think I would care that much. I say that but, who knows. I do care about what my parents think, however. I just want to make sure I look healthy before they see me again. I know they are a mess and I don’t want to give them any more cause for concern. That and I don’t want them to see any possible rude comments left by people. It would upset my Mom and I’m pretty sure my Dad would go and try to find those people himself.”

Martinez hummed as he thought. “That’s awfully kind of you. Although I think your parents would appreciate a photo of you. No matter what you look like or possible comments. I'm sure they would love seeing their son alive and as well as he can be.”

Mark didn’t respond. He had never considered how a picture might help his parents and not hurt them.

“Then again…” Martinez said with his words trailing.

“What?” Mark asked concerned.

“Recovered or not, gotta worry about blinding people with your ugly mug.” Martinez said with a broad grin. Watney faked laughed and reached over to punch Rick in the shoulder. “Ouch! Rude.”

“You deserved it.” Watney said with a smile. He looked at the tablet, the camera still ready to take a photo. His teeth worried over his bottom lip. Then he shook his head. “Maybe another day.” He finally said as he tapped the icon to switch cameras to the other side. “Smile.” He said holding the tablet up to take a photograph of Martinez with a clear view of space behind him. Rick watched Mark as he edited the photo and posted it to Instagram.

“Better not have captioned that with anything mean.” Martinez said.

“Only with ‘Here is Martinez, the most useless member of the crew. See he’s doing nothing important. Except checking out how awesome space is.’” Mark said with a sly smirk.

Martinez laughed. “That sounds about right.”

The tablet was once again returned to its holding place and a silence fell between the two men for a while. Each looking out the window and the endless expanse of twinkling stars. “You know what I could go for right now?” Mark said as he continued to look out the window.

“What’s that?” Martinez asked.

“A cup of good coffee and some potato chips.” Mark answered.

“Potato chips?” Martinez questioned with a confused look. “I thought you would never want to see another potato as long as you lived.”

“Potatoes yes. A potato chip on the other hand, different story.” Mark said as he held out each hand to illustrate his point. “Not like I had a deep fryer on Mars.”

“What? You mean you couldn’t figure out how to make one? Rig up a sink with a Bunsen burner and use mineral oil from the lab to make Mars chips?” Martinez joked.

“Damn, never thought of that.” Mark laughed and gave a shake of his head. “I want some Pringles. They are the farthest thing from an actual potato. But still have that crunch.”

“What about French fries?

“Oh God, no.” Mark shook his head with a look of disgust. “Fries will taste to much like a potato. Besides, I just want like a handful of chips. Just miss the texture.”

Martinez nodded, letting silence return between them. “What about curly fries? Everyone loves curly fries.” Rick asked.

Mark pursed his lips as he thought. Taking the time to consider his answer. “True. Those spirals are irresistible. But no, I don’t think I could eat them. You can have my curly fries.”

Rick put his hand over his chest and inhaled deeply. “A true friend.”

Grinning, Mark looked back out the window. It hadn’t felt like they moved. Space looked the same, black with stars. But he knew with each passing second the crew was getting closer to finally being home. “You know what,” Mark said as he grabbed his tablet once more. “I think just one picture would be okay.” Mark said as he floated to situate himself next to Martinez. He opened the front facing camera. Confident that the response would be more positive than negative. “Serious or silly?” He asked. Martinez gave him a flat expression, a silent ‘Is that even a question?’ “Right, of course.” The two men posed, scrunching up their faces and sticking their tongues out for the photo. “Okay and one semi-professional one.” Mark said and took a breath before giving a slight crooked grin.

After snapping a few photos, he looked at the album. He stared at himself, critical of his own appearance. His teeth were far from the pearly whites when he left. But they weren’t as gross as they were upon his rescue. He still looked exhausted but not on the verge of passing out. The silly photo hid more of imperfections that caused his anxiety. But he still liked the serious photo more. There was something genuine in his smile. Something that he knew couldn’t be duplicated in a ridiculous photo or a clever caption.

From over Mark’s shoulder, Martinez looked at the picture. “It’s a good one.” He said reaching forward to flick through the few they just took. He went back to the one Mark originally had on the screen. “I think that is the best one. Pretty sure you folks will think the same thing.”

“Agreed.” Mark said as he opened Instagram again.

“Don’t put a filter on it, that’s cheating.” Rick said teasingly.

“Oh, be quiet.” Mark said as he positioned the photo to fit in the frame.

“Turns out no one does any work on this ship. Couldn’t resist looking at the stars with Martinez. Also, Hi Mom! Hi, Dad! #Nofilter #BecauseMartinezsaidIcouldnt #spaceselfie #Ares3

Mark’s thumb hovered over the post button. His heart raced a bit. He knew he could always delete the post but people on the internet were quick. If the photo was up for longer than a few seconds it would be on every social media site available. As well as news outlets writing articles about it. He glanced to Martinez. Rick nodded, giving Mark a silent nudge to publish the photo. His parents, friends and the entire population of the world would see him eventually. Mark posted the picture. “To hell with it.” He said as he committed to doing it. “You do know,” Mark said as he waited for the upload too complete. “When NASA uploads this it’s going to be one of the most circulated, talked about pictures right.”

“I figured it would be.” Martinez said as he let go of the wall to float free.

“The entire world is going to see it.”

“That’s usually how the internet works. But who cares what the world thinks. I know Ma and Pa Watney are going to love it.”

“Ma and Pa?” Mark asked.

“Yep, Ma and Pa back home on the farm. Tendin’ to the … chickens.” Martinez said in the best vague Mid-West, Southern accent he could manage.

“The chickens, of course. They need a lot of tending.” Mark said, going along with the joke.

“Hey, do you know we haven’t done in a while? That would be fun?”

“Eat a four course meal?” Mark asked with a grin.

“Yes. But not that. We have not pulled a prank on Vogel in a long time. And he’s overdue for some hijinks.” Martinez said with a glint in his eye indicating that he was already scheming.

Mark’s grin widened. “What you got in mind?”

“Oh, I have several things in mind. You just gotta tell me which you would prefer to do.” Martinez said conspiratorially before listing ideas he created over the last year. Just in case he and Mark ever had the chance to engage in some friendly pranking on their crewmate. 

Chapter Text

Mission Day: 751

“Mark, please. It’s going to have to happen sooner or later.” Commander Lewis asked as she took a seat next to Mark in the Rec, her prepared meal steaming in front of her. Instead of answering, Mark shoveled in a mouthful of wild rice to avoid talking. “Mark…” Lewis’s tone indicated she was reaching the end of the almost limitless patience she had for dealing with Watney. Mark made a noncommittal sound and then took a large bite of reconstituted chicken. She just waited, watching him eat, staring and making him feel scrutinized. Finally, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Oh, come on, Commander!” Mark whined as he reached for this bottle of apple juice to wash down the copious amount of food he consumed in a short amount of time. “It’s pointless. We’re still at a nine-minute audio delay between us and Earth. A roundtrip conversation would take eighteen minutes! Honestly it would take longer. Gotta wait for the question, take the time to answer and then send it back.”

“The questions are going to be sent ahead of time so we’ll be ready for them.” Lewis pointed out before taking a small bite of her own meal.

Mark gave her a sidelong glance. “How about you guys just do it without me?”

Lewis picked up on the subtle hesitation in Mark’s voice, her annoyance at his reluctance faded, replaced with concern. She considered him for a moment, constantly having to remind herself that the Mark Watney that started this long journey all those months ago was not the same one sitting next to her today. While he looked, and sounded the same, a lot of behavior was different. Melissa set her fork down and rested her hands in her lap. Silence hung between them as she thought of the best way to word her question. She didn’t want to seem intrusive or demanding of answers, but part of her role as the commander of the crew was to make sure everyone was in good health and state of mind. Mark had more lenience in that regard than the rest of the crew, however, that made Lewis that much more vigilant about making sure he was okay.

Lacing her fingers together, Lewis looked down at her hands. Before Mark was stranded she felt she could ask him any question, no matter how blunt or personal. He would always answer, sometimes with more information that she cared to know. Ever since his rescue, that interaction was limited to quick questions. Mostly pertaining to the status of the ship and his duties and a basic report of his health. When the NASA doctors gave Mark the all clear, the personal questions almost stopped.

“If you want to ask me something, you should just ask.” Mark said, breaking the silence between them. He long since finished eating and it was incredibly obvious Lewis had something on her mind.

Glad for the open invitation, Melissa nodded and sat up straight. “Why don’t you want to be part of the conference?”

Mark raised a curious eyebrow. “That’s it? I thought you were going to ask something embarrassing. Like, ‘Mark, how are you’re bowel movements?’ or ‘That weird rash on your back clear up yet?’”

“Okay then, if it’s such an easy answer, why don’t you?”

“Because…” Mark’s words trailed, his gaze dropping from Melissa’s to the empty tray in front of him. “Because I don’t want to answer the questions people are going to ask.” He finally said, picking his head up.

“You don’t know what they’re going to ask. The questions are half prepared by BBC writers and the other half were screened and picked from the public. All of which have been approved by Annie.” Lewis explained, her answer not making Mark feel any better about the audio conference. The photo he posted to social media garnered worldwide attention, every single person that was involved with his rescue, everyone watching were desperate for more content. Mark had to disable the comments feature to avoid reading questions and opinions on his appearance.

“Why can’t they be approved by me? I know this is supposed to be conference for the whole crew, but let’s be real here, Commander. Everyone just wants to ask me questions and I don’t think I’m ready to answer some of the ones they want to ask.”

“But you still don’t know what …”

“With all due respect, Commander, I do know what they are going to ask.” The hardened look on Mark’s face was startling to Lewis. She furrowed her brow slightly, the confusion obvious to Mark. “They’re going to ask questions that I haven’t faced myself. Like, why I didn’t just give up.” He admitted, his shoulders hunching as he fidgeted with the edge of the plastic tray.

Lewis found that she could only nod in understanding, unsure of what to say that would provide any sort of comfort. Mark’s early words echoed in her head, you should just ask. “Well, why didn’t you just give up? Because clearly you didn’t.”

This question came as more of a surprise than the last one. He started talking a few times but cut himself short as the thought was incomplete. He looked like a gapping fish out of water trying to breathe. “Because I couldn’t? There was always the chance that I could be rescued, so I had to keep going.”

Standing from the small table, Lewis grabbed her waste and Mark’s to dispose of them in the proper locations. “Then it sounds to me like you’ve already thought about the answer.” She turned and stopped at the head of the table. “I won’t make you be there for the audio conference, Mark.” Lewis said. The relief visible in Mark’s posture. “But I would like it if you were there. You’re a part of this crew and if would feel incomplete in your absence. I’ll leave the choice up to you. The conference starts in an hour, if you want to participate, just come back to the Rec.”

After Mark nodded once, letting Lewis know he understood what she wanted, Melissa climbed the ladder and left Watney alone.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 751

I honestly don’t think I’ve gone back and forth on something as much as doing this stupid audio conference. I mean, the time delay alone is going to make things so awkward! It’s an eight minute and forty-eight second delay. People are going to be waiting almost twenty minutes to get a reply. Lewis forwarded me the list of questions and some of them are the generic space-related questions that all astronauts get asked. ‘How do you use the bathroom?’. You’d think people would know this by now. But then of course a lot of them are about my rescue and how I am.

How do you think I am general population of the world? I was stranded on Mars for eighteen months! I’m chipper as hell. It seems incredibly frivolous to me but I’m sure people on Earth are organizing parties for it. Take a shot every time an answer comes through. Better be high proof alcohol or you’ll only ever experience a slight buzz.

Another small (not that small) of an issue that I have is the same question from earlier. Why didn’t I just give up? Sure, like Lewis said, obviously, I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact how I thought about giving up every single day. I’d like to forget about how close I came to just ending it all sometimes. Forget about everything associated with those thoughts. And people asking me ‘Hey Mark, why didn’t you just kill yourself?’, doesn’t really help with that.

All that matters is that I did persist, that I made it through to the end, no matter what happened. But, damn. How do I explain to the world how difficult that was without thinking about it? I suppose I don’t need to answer those questions, could skip them. Or pretend there was something wrong with the transmission. Considering we’re still a few million miles from home, it’s possible a few audio files could get scrambled on the way back to Earth. And I know that my rescue is a huge deal back home and I owe my life to a few million people probably.

Except, and I say this in the politest way possible, fuck them. I appreciate the support that everyone sent, but other than the help I got from NASA until Pathfinder died, I did everything alone. No moral support, no assistance, no words of encouragement. Just me, myself and Lewis’s disco music. They were all at home, on Earth, watching the news or their Twitter feeds, getting updates of whether I’ve died. Maybe even placing bets on it. And if people did place bets on me living or making Mars my eternal tomb, I want to meet the people who won. I think I should get all that money, or half of it. Considering I’m the one who in fact did not die and made them win their rather fucked up bet in the first place.

But anyway, audio conference. Hosted by the BBC, with Mathias Hughes and Christine Gutierrez. Guess I’ll show up, see how this goes down. Should be interesting in the least.

Beth Johanssen worked away on the computer to ensure the link between Hermes and NASA was established and secure. The crew milled around as they waited for the conference to start. It was an abnormal thing to have any sort of contact outside of written communication while still this far out in space. But considering this trip was anything but normal, no one thought anything of it. When Beth completed her task, she sent the first test message. Now, everyone had to wait almost twenty minutes for the response. The voice of the CAPCOM controller returned with a quick, “received and ready. Conference to begin in ten minutes.”

With the delay between questions and answers, everyone brought something to work on with them. Reports that needed completed, data to be analyzed and interpreted and a few books or leisure items to mess around with during the waiting period. Not everyone would be engaged with every question so there was the possibility of a long boring spell. The conference was scheduled to take several hours and work still needed to be done.

Lingering in the reduced gravity, Mark held onto the wall above the access tunnel to the Rec room. The inner battle with joining the crew raged on as he tried to make the choice if he wanted to participate in the conference. If it was one thing an astronaut was used to, it was conferences. At work, at schools, at embassies, in space. NASA somehow could figure out how to host a conference anywhere. Mark took a breath and decided to take the plunge, he’d have to face the population of Earth sooner or later. At least in this situation he didn’t have to face anyone physically. Before changing his mind, Mark turned and descended the ladder, landing gracefully in the Rec with the rest of the crew.

The audio coming through the speakers were the announcers at BBC introducing themselves and explaining to the viewers and listeners how this exchange was going to work. They advised everyone that long stretches of silence were going to be common place and not to call in thinking that something happened to the program. If a connection was lost with the Ares Three crew they’d let everyone know.

“Look who decided to show up.” Martinez said as he lounged in the sills of one of the large windows.

“Yeah, I needed to make sure you behaved yourself.” Mark shot back as he walked to stand with the crew. Lewis showed him a faint smile, pleased that he decided to join them.

“… and for the first time since his rescue, we’ll be able to talk with Mark Watney, something a lot of people have been looking forward to. Ares Three crew, how are you all today?” Mathias Hughes asked, ten minutes ago.

“We’re doing great. Everyone’s here and ready to answer some questions. So, go ahead and send a couple our way and we’ll do our best to give some good information.” Lewis responded for her team. Once the transmission was sent, Mark gave her a look. “What?” She asked, looking at his accusing expression.

“How did that guy know I was going to be joining you guys?” Mark asked.

Melissa glanced at the rest of the crew before looking back to Watney. “Because we all knew you’d be here.”

“All of you guys?”

Mark’s question was answered with a course of yeses and head nods. “You’re pretty predictable.” Beck said, his response earning a few chuckles from everyone else.

“Predictable. Yeah, okay.” Mark said as he took his seat next to Beck and shoved him into Vogel.

“That’s great to hear, Commander.” Christine Gutierrez responded after the twenty-minute round trip. “So, no need to waste time. Let’s get started, shall we? The first three were taken from an online pool of some of the most asked questions.”

To Mark’s great relief, the first questions were general and not directed towards him. The first asked about what it has been like to be in space for such a long time. Beck answered that question with ease. Including that the artificial gravity created by Hermes allows for them to have some semblance of being on Earth. So that when they finally do get home no one would be suffering from living in reduced gravity for such a long time. It was a simplified answer, returning to Earth even with the meager 0.8G’s provided by the ship was going to be a long recovery.

The second question asked about the state of Hermes and if they had experienced any sort of dysfunction from the extended trip. Lewis took the lead on that one, informing the public that the ship was in excellent condition and was designed to be used for many trips to Mars. They just were using it longer than planned. There was no need to talk about the Electron Oxygenator leak or the relay pumps malfunctioning. Any sort of possible problems leaked to the entire world would have only caused a headache for NASA.

The final question was shared by Vogel and Johanssen. It was the incredibly standard, ‘What is it like to live on a space ship?’ question. But the two answered it beautifully, describing how their jobs were vital to the crew and what they did on a normal basis. While adding in personal things, such as which meal they preferred to eat and the coffee wasn’t really that bad.

As the questions were answered and sent, each one needed eight minutes and forty-eight seconds to reach Earth. Then played to the entire world, understood and the response returned. Mark lounged with Martinez in the window, he had one eye closed as he drew lines connecting the distant stars.

“That’s all great to hear. What an incredible and amazing journey you’ve guys have gone on.” Christine answered.

“Incredible is right.” Mathias agreed. A few more generic questions were sent. How does one train to go to Mars? Lewis and Martinez answered that one. What is the best thing about being in space? Vogel provided a poetic response about the beautiful vastness of space. Do you ever get bored? A very defined, ‘Yes’ from Johanssen got laughs from the new station on Earth.

 “Our next question is specifically for Mark. We are all honored to be the first people on Earth to speak with you Mark.” He continued. Watney kept his comments about how they weren’t the first to himself. They might have been the first to speak with him with their voices, but he was in constant contact with people back home. “Although we do have someone here that wants to ask you this question themselves.”  There was a moment of shuffling coming through the speaker as it sounded like seats were changed.

“Mark? Hi, honey.” His mother’s voice caught him off guard and he had a stunned look on his face as his emotions ran from surprised, to excited, to near tears. “You looked great in that picture you posted. I’m so glad to have seen it. I just wanted to ask how you’re doing? Your father is here as well, he sends his love.”

Silence took over, signaling that was the end of the audio transmission Hermes was receiving. Mark stared at the computer and then looked to the crew. “You all knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” He asked after clearing his throat to push back some of the emotion threatening to take over his voice. No one answered, but the look on everyone’s face said differently. Mark took the seat behind the computer and sent his response. “Hi Mom, hi Dad. It’s so great to hear from you. I’m doing pretty great. Everyone on board is treating me well, waiting on me hand and foot even. Yesterday, Martinez cut up my dinner into bite sized pieces and Johanssen put on an interesting independent show of interpretive dance about Agatha Christie’s, And Then There Were None.” Mark’s exaggeration of the truth was to be expected. Johanssen tossed a piece of paper at Mark but it landed on the ground well before reaching him.

“But other than that, I’m doing well. I’m back to work, part of the crew again. We’re all pretty excited to get home. Me especially. Also, you don’t need to answer this but can you make your pot roast when I get back?” Mark ended his reply and stopped the recording, letting his answer make the trip to Earth.

“You’re a sap. And I better be invited over for that pot roast.” Martinez said without looking up from his tablet.

“Think again, buddy. That pot roast is all for me.” Mark said as he stood from the computer.

 “I gotta say, Mark it is great to hear from you. The reaction to hearing you in the studio was amazing.” A small clip of loud cheering played for almost twenty seconds before getting cut off. “While we have you Mark, there are a few more questions that people have been wanting to get answers to. First, what’s the first thing you want to do when you get back to Earth? Second, do you plan to say working with NASA? And finally, what I’ve even been personally curious about. What was the hardest thing about being on Mars for that long?”

Mark took the same seat by the computer once again and pondered his answers for a moment. He couldn’t wait too long, as this conference had already dragged out for a few hours. “Well, I suppose the first thing I want to when I get back to Earth, other than go through all the medical testing I’m sure the Docs back home have planned, is to go watch a Cubs game. I know it’s going to be December when I get back but I missed two seasons. And I know for a fact that my Dad has them recorded. But you can bet at least five dollars I’ll be at that game coming opening day.” Mark said into the microphone.

“And of course, I plan to stay with NASA. Working with them was a dream of mine growing up and I have been privileged to do so many things with this organization. I know that whatever is in store for my future with them will continue to be a fulfilling career.” The second answer was a no brainer, the only way Mark would leave NASA is if they kicked him out or they were handing him a gold watch for his retirement.

The last question was one that he wanted to avoid. It wasn’t as straight forward as, ‘Why didn’t you just give up?’ or something along those lines. But that’s the question he knew people wanted to ask, that people were going to ask once he got home. Mark cleared his throat to interrupt the silence he was creating. “What was the hardest thing about being on Mars?” Mark repeated, giving himself a few more seconds to internalize an answer and find the desire to verbalize it. “Well, the easiest thing was…” His words trailed as he tried to think of something. Everything he came up with, Mark thought about how it wasn’t easy. Eating wasn’t easy, he almost starved. Sleeping wasn’t easy, there were many nights after the Hab decompressed that he was certain it would happen again. His brain couldn’t shut off, leading to many sleepless nights.

Getting work done wasn’t easy, having to do an EVA anytime he wanted to go outside or trying to complete every task alone. It was all taxing. And getting off Mars sure as hell wasn’t easy. “I’ll have to be honest with you guys, there weren’t many thing that were easy. In fact, everything was pretty hard. I had to do a lot of work to ensure that I would make it to the next day. That did become somewhat easier when I was able to get in touch with NASA. But, if I had to say what the hardest thing was,” He paused again and shook his head. “The planet. I mean, it’s made of solid rock. Easily the hardest thing around.”

He couldn’t give the answer he wanted, so Mark deflected with humor, as usual. The crew chuckled a bit but it was a hollow response, after talking with everyone about Mars, they knew how Mark actually felt. But they all understood why he couldn’t tell the truth. Not to a computer, not to millions of people he didn’t know.

Even the response from the BBC news anchors sounded off. “From everything we’ve seen, I wouldn’t doubt that. Everyone back here is glad you’ve made it this far, Mark. And we can’t wait for you to finally get home. We’ve run out of time here, so we’ll be signing off. Ares Three crew, it’s been a true pleasure having this time to speak with you. God speed and we’ll see you all in a few months.”

Beth turned off the transmission before it ended, the anchors moved on to recapping everything that happened with Mark getting stranded. No one on the ship needed a summary of that moment, they would never forget.

“Since we’re all here, how about some dinner together?” Lewis suggested as everyone milled around, casting glances at one another trying to figure out what to do next.  

“Ja, that sounds good to me.” Vogel was the first to agree, going to the cabinets to pull a few meals out for everyone.

“Might as well.” Martinez said as he put his tablet to sleep and took a seat at the table. Lewis sat at the head, Beth and Chris sat next to each other. Mark watched everyone settle in and smiled as he took an open spot between Lewis and Martinez.

“Chef Vogel what’s on the menu tonight?” Mark asked, ready for another good meal with good friends. One of the best reminders of why he never gave up on Mars.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 755

Growing up I watched a lot of space movies. Anything from science fiction to documentaries. I remember watching ones like Apollo 13 and thinking, ‘Wow, space is just so cool!’ and ‘How dangerous of a job that must be!’. Of course, after my little jaunt on Mars, Kevin Bacon and Tom Hanks had a cakewalk trying to get back to Earth. Not to belittle the actual incident of Apollo 13 that actual astronauts faced. But, all I’m saying, is that for someone to top my ordeal they’d have to get dropped on Europa for a decade. Anyway, space movies. Hollywood does a great job of showing how cool astronauts are (we are) and how cool of a job that astronauts have (we do). Even documentaries are full of action sequences and montages showcasing the fast-paced training and development of space travel.

I am here to inform you all of what a bunch of shit that is.

Space travel is boring. So boring. Like, oh my god, if I wasn’t headed to Earth right now I would die from boredom. No one ever admits just how mundane it is to be an astronaut. Yes, we get to wear cool suits. Yes, we get to ride literal rockets to outer space. But once you get there? Boring. There are some days where exciting things happen. Like getting stuck in a sandstorm and ending up stranded on another planet for eighteen months. But that’s very rare and I’m an outlier for that scenario and should not be counted.

Naturally, when astronauts visit classrooms and little Jonny asks, ‘What’s it like to go to space?’, we don’t say, ‘It’s boring as hell.’. Mostly because NASA would frown upon us not doing our best to show the institution in a good light. But also, because no one ever wants to hear about the boring bits. It’s easy to spin everything we do to sound thrilling. For instances, just today I performed an experiment with my plants to measure the level of photosynthesis carried out under varying light conditions. But, in basically zero G! Instantly, sounds so much cooler. Despite the fact that monitoring levels of photosynthesis under light and dark conditions is an experiment that I’m pretty certain a twelve-year-old would do for a science fair.

But can you do that experiment in space, Jonny? That’s what I thought.

Even getting to do easy or complex experiments in space grows repetitive and mind numbing. On Mars there were only a few times I found myself bored. Surprisingly, it was when I had contact with NASA. Waiting on transmissions always seemed to take forever. Having something to wait on, having to specifically fill my time until I got a message made time pass slowly. It made everything I did boring because it wasn’t what I was wanting to do at that moment. Everyone has had times like that right? Where you have a lot to do but you don’t want to do any of it because it’s not what you want to be doing? And that leads you to realize you have to idea what you want to do. Which just makes you sit around and stare at the walls of the Hab for about twenty-three minutes before trekking out to the Rover. That last part might be singular to myself, but it really sucks when you want to do something but don’t know what to do.

That happens in space a lot. When your options of hobbies and entertainment is limited to things possible within a spaceship, your desire to do them grows quickly stale. I once suggested to Lewis that we could ski off the back of Hermes to liven things up. That idea was quickly shot down so many words that included, ‘That’s literally the stupidest idea I have ever heard, Mark.’.  I might be wearing her down on the idea though.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 755-2

Today is one of those really boring days. I wish my plants would at least give me some interesting results. Everything so far is the expected outcomes. Not that, that’s a bad thing, in fact the expected outcome is ideally what NASA wants me to report out. But wouldn’t it be cool if the plants suddenly mutated and could grow an ice cream sandwich? I know that’s not possible. I just really want an ice cream sandwich lately.

I have another hour of down time before I have to tend to some of my daily engineering duties. There are a few issues with Hermes that need addressing. Things that are not in the expected outcome zone that NASA loves. But these issues aren’t unexpected, since this ship has been chugging along way longer than planned without a retrofit. The only issue I have is that my duties later are still boring. I know I said it earlier, but space travel is so boring. Sorry to little Jonny, or Susie, who may read this later. If you want to become an astronaut get ready for long periods of restlessness.

Can’t really say I remember feeling this restless on the way to Mars. I suppose I’m ready to be home and on solid ground with normal gravity. I’ve been away from home for a long time. Not that the rest of the Ares 3 crew hasn’t been. They could have easily ended the mission at the scheduled time. They would all have been home by now, resting easy with their families and loved ones. While I hung out on Mars. I’m endlessly glad they decided to come get me. I could be sitting in the Rover or the Hab doing nothing instead of sitting on a spaceship doing nothing.

I suppose I should be fair. While space travel can become stagnant, that isn’t a bad thing. Getting to spend my days in space is inherently exciting. Getting to do these experiments, repairs and experience all of it in space is a privilege that few get to claim. Living a repetitive life is no different in space than it is for people on Earth. Go to bed, wake up, have breakfast, go to work, break for lunch, back to work, go home, have dinner and spend some down time. The only major difference is that I haven’t breathed air that wasn’t recycled in years. God, I can’t wait for that first deep breath of Earth air.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 755-3

I was complaining a lot in these logs today. While complaining is valid and a necessary coping mechanism (as Dr. Shields has told me many times), I want to make it clear that I wouldn’t trade any of this for anything. Being able to fall back into the mundane, repetitive life of space travel is a blessing after my whole ordeal. Getting that semblance of my normal life back. Especially since I don’t think I’ll ever truly have a normal life once I get home. I don’t say that to sound cool, or as an attention seeker. But being stuck on Mars was like being the star of a viral video for a year and half.

Martinez told me that there isn’t a household that doesn’t know my name. Not a kid that doesn’t know my story. I’m like the Harry Potter of space travel. Hey, I even have a little scar on my forehead from when the Hab breeched and my faceplate broke. Nice.

My point is, being able to get back to the routine of life is a good thing. I haven’t put much thought into what it is going to be like when I get home. I mean, really be like. It’s not like I’m expecting Earth to have changed dramatically and suddenly everything is a tropical paradise (even if climate change is making it that way). I’m talking about what life will be like and what I’m going to do once I get home. I haven’t put any thought into it. There’s been so many other things that I’ve been focused on, one of the last things I’ve dedicated time to is thinking about how my life is going to altered forever because of this. I really don’t want it to be different and I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure it stays how it was. But I have this sneaking suspicion that I won’t have any control over that choice.

I still have a little while on Hermes to adjust and get ready for that day. So, until then, I suppose I’ll just trek on with the day in and day out, wash, rinse and repeat life of living on a spaceship. We all do our work, we eat our meals, we carry on to the next day. Nothing happens. I wake up knowing that today will be the same and that we’re one day closer to finally getting home. If I have to do middle school science fair projects, then so be it. I’ve missed my work, I’ve missed my crew and I’ve missed this. And I can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 756

I haven’t made an update to my own log in so long. I hadn’t been about to bring myself to do it for a while, every time I had tried to start a new entry the only emotions that I felt I could talk about was how Mark was alone, so far away, on a planet that wanted to kill him. While me and the rest of the crew were in the somewhat relative safety of Hermes. We, at least, didn’t have to worry about running out of food. For the most part. Something I couldn’t imagine waking up every morning and worrying about, on top of needing to survive every other way.

But then, we got Mark back, and it was rough at first, adjusting back to having him aboard. He was in really bad shape when we managed to rescue him. Beck spent so much time with him, trying to diagnose everything that was wrong. There were the obvious issues, the malnourishment and the wounds to his body that came with that. If it wasn’t for the reduced gravity, I’m not sure if Mark would have been able to even stand on his own. I’m pretty sure Beck hasn’t even fully diagnosed him. Pretty sure, he can’t.  

I honestly… I think I was more afraid Mark was going to die after rescue than on Mars.

We all thought he had been killed; I still have nightmares about seeing him whisked away from right in front of me during that windstorm. Then, once we found out he had survived, waiting for word every day if he was still alive was agony. Being involved with his rescue was one of the most nerve-racking moment of my life and that includes being blasted into space on a giant bomb. But those first few days, when Mark was really touch and go, I was more afraid of him dying than any other point. I know I wouldn’t have been able to handle losing him on the ship. Especially since it’s not like there is a morgue on board. Procedure is to jettison bodies. And if we had lost him and had to that after everything we went through to get him back… well, I try not to dwell, since Mark is getting better every day and returning to his duties.

He really does seem back to normal, for the most part. I can’t imagine what he goes through on a daily basis, how living alone on an entire planet messes with someone’s head. Astronauts are put through so much training, but no one could have ever expected that outcome. I usually love space, would want to spend as much time out here in this inky expanse as possible, but right now, I just want to get home as quickly and safely as we can for Mark’s sake. We’re all antsy to get back, he must be jumping out of his skin.

Also, just for my own personal record, that I shouldn’t add because this will be on file with NASA forever – I love getting to share a bunk with Beck.

Floating to her workstation, Beth settled in to her familiar seat, buckling herself in with ease. She felt most at home when interfacing the computers, able to clear her mind and work through her daily tasks as if meditation. Often becoming so immersed in her work that the world around her would fade to nearly nothing. Only realizing how much time had passed when another crew member would come and fetch her for lunch or dinner. Sometimes, even waving them off if she was deeply involved with something. Commander Lewis was the only one she dared not dismiss if she came calling.

Screens flashed through different dialogues, all systems checking in within parameters for her morning diagnostic. Tapping a few keys, she brought up her checklist for the day, noting what held priority and what could be dismissed for later. Starting with the most important task, Beth entered her passwords that allowed only her and the Commander access to the storage systems. Nothing could be deleted, not without hacking the system. A skill that Beth perfectly demonstrated to redirect Hermes back to Mars. However, without a mutinous need, she refrained from such a thing.

Her eyes scanned the files stored and stopped on a peculiar one, one she hadn’t noticed before. An eyebrow rose, it was a giant file. A click opened a submenu to reveal that there was more than one file responsible for the large size:

HAB_FILES_003  … 87.9 GB
ROVER_ONE_FILES … 32.1 GB
ROVER_TWO_FILES … 91.3 GB

Beth’s heart skipped a beat when she realized what she was looking at. Everything from the Ares Three mission uploaded when they made contact with Mark. It was standard procedure, Hermes communicated with what it could on the surface of Mars to take all data. As weight was the precious commodity of space travel, even being able to sacrifice transferring data to physical memory sticks was a win for NASA. Why bother with a flash drive when Hermes could take the information directly?

The overall file sizes were smaller than what had been collected on the previous three missions. While, Mark had been there significantly longer, one man could only produce so much content.

Curiosity niggled at Beth’s mind, her fingers hovered over her controls as she looked at the three files. They contained everything about Mark’s experience on Mars, things that could have been incredibly personal, moments that Mark may have believed him to not survive and make final admission. The devil on her shoulder interfered with the angel that fought to keep these files private. The other half of the argument, that these files would be poured over and dissected by every NASA employee once they arrived at home. That if there had been something in there Mark truly did not want someone to know, he would not have included it. As he must have been aware that every entry he made would have been recovered eventually, no matter if he had died on the red planet.

She clicked away from the folders, continuing with the task she originally started with. Confident that she would forget all about them as she became invested in the work that needed to be completed. With each passing second the ability to ignore those files became increasingly difficult.

“Beth, stop it, you don’t need to look through those. They aren’t important.” Beth told herself while navigating back to the uploaded files. She stared at the three names, squinting slightly. “If there was anything vital in there, Mark would’ve told us about it.”

However, as if against her will, she clicked, ROVER_TWO_FILES.

ROVERTWO_ENTRY1_1319.txt
ROVERTWO_ENTRY2_1347.txt
ROVERTWO_ENTRY3_0717.mov
ROVERTWO_ENTRY4_0902.txt
ROVERTWO_ENTRY5_1925.mov

On and on the list went, a combination of written files and video. Beth clicked away again, the prospect of reading them felt incredibly intrusive and rude. She had plenty of work that needed to be done, now was not the time to be snooping on what Mark had gone through. If she really wanted to know she could talk to him about it and get a firsthand account from Mark himself.

She paused. “Technically, these are all a firsthand account from Mark himself.” She said to only herself. Constantly going back and forth between supporting her choice and refuting it.

Finding herself once again at the three main folders she clicked the one for the Hab, a similar list popped up to the Rover, and extended on. Hours’ worth of video to be watched and entries to be read. Overcoming her desire to stay away she clicked on the first entry.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 6

I’m pretty much fucked. That’s my considered opinion. Fucked.

Beth immediately laughed; it was exactly what she would have expected of Mark. Forever the foul-mouth sailor, she couldn’t blame him for starting off a log with such language. Certain she would have done the same if she had been in his situation. She read through the entry, the tone of it melancholy for what Mark lost, scared for the situation he was in and humorous, because Mark knew no other way to behave. She reached the end, staring at that last sentence.

So yeah. I’m fucked.

Unable to put herself in Mark’s situation, she could always tell herself she would have done the same, would have spent every day fighting tooth and nail to survive. But it was always easy to imagine oneself overcoming great adversity, to reign victorious and see the end of a situation so dire it was statistically impossible to survive. She felt her fondness for Mark grow, his strength as a human of both body and mind was beyond that of anyone she knew, and she respected him for it.

With her curiosity somewhat satiated, Beth pressed on with her work. She managed about fifteen minutes before finding her way back to Mark’s logs, she opened one of the Rover’s at random.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 477

It took all day yesterday and today, but I think I’m ready to measure this storm.

She was instantly put back to when Mark was driving towards the sandstorm that he was completely unaware he was headed straight for. The dread she felt at the prospect of him driving in too deep and losing both all power and the ability to generate new energy caused her anxiety to spike. She wished she could have gotten on her comms and send him a message, frustrated that all the power and tech NASA had to offer in the form of Hermes, and she was forced to be silent. She wanted to scream out an airlock, anything, anything at all that would have warned Mark of the looming danger.

When Mark had finally realized what was happening, Beth had been so relieved, overjoyed that Mark was so clever. It wasn’t until he had fully circumnavigated the storm was Beth finally able to relax. She had held onto Beck’s hand so tightly during those days, she was certain if things had gotten any worse, she would have broken the fine bones.

Before Beth realized what she was doing, she was reading over everything, pulled in and engrossed by the story that Mark created as he worked through difficulty after difficulty. She wanted to know more. She watched the videos recorded from the Hab and Rovers, found herself tearing up at points and laughing at others. Just like with anything else, she became so completely enthralled, she lost track of time, unaware that company had joined her.

“Time for lunch, Beth.” Watney’s voice came from behind her, his sudden presence causing her to shriek. Mark stumbled backward at her being so startled. “Fuck, sorry! I forgot you get so caught up in all those ones and zeroes!” Mark apologized right away.

Beth did her best to click away from what she was looking at, but Mark’s sudden appearance had her frazzled. “No, it’s okay! I’m sorry! I really, I didn’t mean too!” She said, rambling as she started to undo her seatbelt. “I really, really didn’t mean to look at them. But I was just too curious!”

Mark’s eyes narrowed in an expression of confusion. “What, you are looking at nudey pictures or something?” Mark asked, unsure of what she possibly could have been doing to warrant such a guilty reaction.

Beth shook her head, “No. I was going through the files in storage and…” She trailed, feeling her cheeks flush hot at admitting what she had been doing. “And I found all the files from, from when you were on Mars. Everything automatically was loaded into the computers and I’m so sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have read them. It wasn’t right, that is your private log!” Words tumbled from her lips, hoping some form of an apology would stick.

Surprise overtook Mark’s features as she explained, leaning to look past her to the computer monitors. “I totally forgot that happened.” He said, feeling a mixture of gratitude that everything he recorded survived and annoyance that everything he recorded survived. “How much did you read?”

With a shrug, Beth shook her head again, this time with more of a plea. “I couldn’t say, I clicked around a bit then started at the beginning. I wasn’t even to sol one hundred, I know that.” She felt her blush darken, shame creeping up her spine for such an intrusion into something so personal.

“Oh well,” Mark started, “someone was bound to find them and read them. Not like NASA won’t have every person combing through them once we get back. If they haven’t already been forwarded.” Mark said with an air of nonchalance.

Beth blinked at him, relief flooded her body. “You… you aren’t mad?” She asked carefully, feeling herself return to full height, unaware that she had shrunk down in the face of a potential confrontation.

“Why would I be mad, Beth? I knew recording everything would have been found eventually. I hoped it would have been. And honestly, I’m glad you were the first to find them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I feel like you would be less likely to use the content as ammo against me.” He grinned, knowing full well there were moments in those files he did not want Martinez to ever view.

Beth laughed. “There’s some pretty embarrassing things in there.” Her smile wide as she looked at her fellow astronaut. It fade after a moment, reminded of what Mark went through. “I’m still sorry. I should have asked you first.”

Mark moved to put his arm around her shoulders, seeing the small look of pity that formed. Something, he discovered in that moment, he hated. Especially now that he recognized what it was and upon retrospect had seen it on the faces of every other crew member since his rescue. A daunting feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, realizing that he was going to see pity on the face of everyone he talked to when they all finally arrived back home.

“Where did you leave off?” He asked, not wanting to dwell on the realization and would much rather put himself back on Mars than contemplate the new and weird life that waited for him on Earth.

They headed towards the ladder to join the rest of the crew for lunch. “On sol eighty-one, you were twenty-two kilometers away from finding Pathfinder.”

“Oh yes, the trip to Pathfinder. I remember it like it were yesterday.” He let her start the climb first. “Now, there’s a lot of details I didn’t put in my log, so let me tell you about song that I had stuck in my head during that entire trip and how Lewis is entirely to blame.” He started, following her and finding himself, for the first time, comfortable in a conversation about what happened on Mars.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 758

If there’s one major downside to space travel, it’s the confined quarters. Not for the claustrophobic feelings, no change of scenery, having to share space with five other full-grown adults (Beth might only count as a half adult, she’s so tiny), no, none of those issues are the major downside to space travel. The major downside is the inability to surprise people!

I suppose it depends on the surprise. The crew was certainly surprised when they were told I was still alive, but that doesn’t count, no one could have expected that. This surprise has to do with Beck, today is his birthday, and trying to put together a surprise party when he knows that we all know it’s his birthday, and none of us can take him shopping to bring him home and shout, “Surprise!”. So, we make do, and everyone usually plays along.

Floating through the corridors of Hermes, Mark still feels a sense of deep appreciation overcome him every time he grabs hold of an anchor point. His crew came back for him, they saved his life at the risk of losing their own. Sacrificing time on Earth with their own loved ones to go back to Mars, to go back for him. It’s an appreciation that he’s not sure he’ll ever fully be able to express. He’s going to try his best to show it.

He's second to last to join the crew in the Rec. Slowly, he made the transition from weightlessness into the artificial gravity. “Not too late, am I?” He asked, moving to take a seat next to Martinez.

“Nope, right on time. Beck should be finishing up with his afternoon duties any minute now.” Lewis replied as she situated a box in her lap before opening it. There’s nothing special inside, nothing that’s a real surprise. Another ration pack, but someone’s written ‘Happy Birthday Chris’ on the foil.

“I wish that was a real cake.” Martinez sighed, missing the processed sugar and unhealthy treats that he’d shamelessly enjoy on Earth. Even during their training, he’d be able to take back junk food as if it were a plate of roasted veggies. Mark never understood how he didn’t throw up after their required miles-long runs. ‘Calories are calories.’ Martinez would always say when asked, as if it were normal to knock back several twinkies with a Pepsi before exercising.

“When we get home, I’ll buy you all the cake you can eat.” Mark said, a hand slapping his crewmate’s back.

“I should be the one to buy you all the cake you can eat.”

“No, no, I insist, let me be the cake purchaser.”

“Well, if you insist, my favorite flavor is -,” Martinez is cut off by Beth, shushing both of them in a soft hiss, her hand waving at them.

“I can hear him coming!” Her voice quavered with excitement, but still quiet. “Hide!”

The five crewmembers quickly pushed away from their seats. There were no true hiding places in the Rec. Beth wiggled herself under the open table, Lewis and Vogel took to hiding behind the meager counter space, affording Lewis more coverage than Vogel. Mark and Martinez pressed their bodies tight against the wall by the ladder. Where’d they be seen as soon as Beck started his descent. It wasn’t about practicality, it was about being a crew, a team, a family. It was the effort behind their gestures that mattered.

Beck makes it halfway down the ladder, stepping back to drop the last few feet. “Wow, I thought it was lunchtime, wonder where everyone could be?” He asked as if no one is around, despite looking Mark right in the eye.

Beth was the first, making her appearance from under the table with a loud, “Surprise!” The rest of the crew following suit, chiming in with their own exclamations of ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘Many happy returns.’

The good doctor played along, acting surprised, but his appreciation is anything but an act. “I can’t believe you all remembered my birthday, I’m touched.” Beck said, hand over his heart as they move back around the table. There’s clamoring among them, each saying what they would have gotten Beck for his birthday if they were on Earth.

A good beer from Vogel, baseball tickets from Martinez, an antique stethoscope from Lewis (her fascination with all things older than her spilling over onto others). Beth blushes when it’s her turn and everyone immediately laughs, she doesn’t need to say what she’d give him in celebration of his birthday.

“I was going to get you baseball tickets too, but Martinez beat me to it.” Mark said as things come around to him. “How does a really solid hug sound?”

“I think that sounds perfect.” Beck smiled, sitting directly next to Mark, they embraced tightly. Being able to touch his crewmates is one thing Mark really missed the most. The simple interaction of a hug was enough to make him feel choked up.

“Many happy returns, doctor.” Mark said, glad that his voice is strong and the emotion in his chest doesn’t betray him.

“Many happy returns to you too, Mark. Having you back is the best birthday present I could’ve asked for.”

It’s difficult to form words, wanting to say everything all at once, and wanting to keep his composure. Mark picked keeping himself put together, they still have a long way to go before they get home. “Well, let’s cut into that cake!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I hear NASA made it just for you.”

Lewis pushed the foil wrapped ration to Beck and begab singing ‘Happy Birthday’, Everyone falls into the comradery that Mark desperately missed for all those months.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 762

You know how everyone says they wish they could attend their own funeral? To be able to hear what people have to say about them, words that wouldn’t have been shared with the deceased in a usual setting? I was never one of those people. I never wanted a big show when I finally kicked the bucket. Put me in a plain pine box and put me in the ground, preferably near a nice tree. That’s it, no big service, no fancy wake or whatever. People dying is already sad enough, I never wanted to be a ‘bother’, even after I went to the great beyond.

I’ve been poking around the computers – if Johanssen is allowed to do it, then so am I – and I’ve come across a lot of the things that were related to my “death”. It’s weird to think how I went from wanting nothing more than a quick parting word to having a memorial service that the entire world took part in. There’s articles, there’s dedications, there’s speeches. The only reason I have access to any of this on Hermes is because, after the crew found out, Henderson saw no reason to keep anything else from them.

It’s truly surreal, being able to watch how people reacted to my death. There are people across the globe that mourned me, people I never met, people I couldn’t even have dreamt of meeting. It’s very touching, knowing that humanity can come together, even when it is expressing their sorrow.

The eulogies that the crew gave are all here too, I haven’t listened to them yet. I can’t tell if I want to or not. I know how my crew mates feel about me, I’m pretty certain that there wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do that would be a surprise in their parting words to me. It feels like crossing a strange personal boundary. I’ve read plenty of posts about my passing from complete strangers and several posts claiming how it was all a hoax orchestrated between the US and Chinese governments to generate funds for their prospective space agencies.

If I hadn’t been the one actually stranded on Mars, I might’ve found those conspiracy theorists’ ideas amusing. Who doesn’t love a good conspiracy theory? I know I do. We all know that New Coke has a completely different recipe than the original Coke, no matter what those soda-loving bureaucrats say.

But, anyway… I can’t seem to bring myself to listen to what my crew had to say about my death. I spent so long fantasizing about being reunited with them that there’s something about this, that could ruin all that. As if it matters. I’m back on Hermes, I’m 136 days away from being back on Earth. It shouldn’t matter that the crew took the time to express themselves about me. The NASA shrink is going to have a field day with me. She’s going to have a whole field year with me.

Listening to their eulogies isn’t going to change what I went through. I even accepted that everyone, including the crew, thought I was dead on Mars. Why does the thought of listening to them accept it make me so… devastated? It wasn’t their fault, if it had been anyone else left behind, I know I would’ve been back on the MAV back to Hermes, I know I would’ve been distraught over leaving a crew member, dead or alive. I know I would’ve given my own speech for my departed friend. Not a single one of them did anything I wouldn’t have done myself.

This is why I shouldn’t poke around on the computer.

Dammit!

Listening to them while I was on Mars feels like it would’ve been easier. It would’ve made more sense. I’m on Mars, they think I’m dead, of course they’re upset and talking about that at my memorial service. But I’m not dead, I’m on Hermes, and they’re all elated that I’m alive and rescued.

Forget this, I’ve got plants to tend to.

Log Entry
Mission Day 762 (2)

I listened to them. I listened to them and then I cried like a baby. I don’t know what I did to deserve friends like this, but by Phobos, I’m not going to let them go.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day 768

I don’t usually get apprehensive over situations, I’m able to remain calm, keep collected, and work my way through any problem. It’s one of the reasons I was selected as commander of Ares 3. However, I’ve been dreading today. I knew it was coming and I knew it was inevitable. In fact, it’s been ongoing, since day one of this… fiasco. The committee that has been investigating the outcomes of Sol 6 wants to meet with the crew, even despite the latency in audio communication between the ship and Earth right now. If I had to guess it’s because they want the information sooner rather than later, as if our written reports handed over just a few days after the incident wasn’t enough.

Couldn’t say exactly why they waited this long in the mission, could be they wanted Hermes closer to Earth to reduce the delay in transmissions, maybe they were waiting for Watney to recover before grilling everyone. It’ll likely take years for them to make a conclusion, despite that, they don’t want to wait for my crew to return home before questioning them.

Despite Watney saying over and over that this wasn’t our fault, that no one was to blame, I can’t help but carry the guilt that we left him behind. If my career as an astronaut ends because of that decision, or the mutiny I authorized later, I won’t fight it. I take solace in the fact that we got him back alive, and that’s the only outcome I need.

The ship felt smaller today, the air was charged with a range of emotions. Apprehension, resignation, guilt, uncertainty, acceptance, and anger. Each crew member felt their own way about the broadcast that they were to sit through. It wouldn’t be the entire world, not like the times Mark went on to be interviewed and the population of Earth listened in. This would be between the Ares 3 crew, and a room full of suited administrators, lawyers, experts, and any participant related to Mark’s abandonment and subsequent rescue back on Earth.

“Thank you all for taking the time to sit down and talk with us today.” A man, whom no one aboard has ever met in person, spoke. “I’m Paul Loch, I’m the director of Safety and Mission Assurance, I’ve been heading the investigation and audit into the activities of Sol 6. Please know, that this is not a personal persecution, this is not about you, but about the events that unfolded and actions that followed. We’re here for answers, we’re here to look for potential mitigation strategies to prevent tragedy from taking place in the future.”

There was still a delay between Earth and Hermes, it became shorter every day, but still long enough that minutes dragged by between responses.

“We’re ready to begin when you are.” Director Loch finished, his air of professional courtesy making Mark like him less, for whatever reason.

“Thank you, Director Loch,” Lewis spoke on behalf of the entire crew. “We are receiving well on our end and ready to begin.” It took several minutes for the return message.

“We’ll get right into it with the personal recounts of Sol 6 from each crew member. Let’s start with Beth Johannsen. Please, describe what took place once Commander Lewis ordered everyone to evacuate to the MAV.”

There was a deep unease in Beth’s chest, she wished she was in the room alone. She took a breath and began her answer. She recalled the powerful dust storm that ripped through their location in Acidalia Planitia, how she monitored the information that the weather stations poured in. She didn’t hold back explaining how she felt a little frightened. Despite being trained for worst case conditions, she couldn’t shake the fear from her chest at having to brave the storm to get to the MAV. She paused, unable to help the glance towards Mark. His expression was soft, and he gave her a small nod to continue.

“As we were travelling to the MAV, we were battered by the wind, dust and sand reduced visibility to near zero. I can’t be exactly sure how far we’d gone from the Hab or how close we were to the MAV when the section of the communications array broke apart and… and slammed into Watney. It happened faster than I could truly comprehend, in an instant Mark was gone. The dust made it impossible to see, our personal lights barely able to penetrate through the cloud around us, making it difficult to search any distance farther than our own hands.”

Beth fumbled slightly with the water in front of her and took a sip to relieve the parched feeling in her throat. It felt like it did that day on Mars, it felt like she was breathing in sand around her.

“I alerted Commander Lewis at once, who had us line up in an attempt to search for Mark. I remember feeling desperate, wanting to get on my hands and knees to have a greater surface area to search. After several minutes, we were ordered to the MAV, as the high sustained winds were threatening to topple the spacecraft.” Beth went on to explain how Martinez used the OME to prevent the MAV from toppling, how Lewis had no time left to spare or she would’ve been left behind. She kept her emotions to herself the best she could, knowing at this meeting they only wanted facts and absolutes.

“We launched, the five remaining crew members made it safely to Hermes.” Beth finished. Relieved when Director Loch thanked her and did not request any further details at this time.

Through the crew everyone went, Beck spoke of how they lost bio-signs from Mark. His pulse rate and blood pressure had registered zero. He spoke easily, in the detached way medical professionals can speak of death and disease as if they were something as trivial as baseball scores. Vogel recalled the storm in further detail, the concern of the Hab losing integrity, the condition of the MAV threatened, as well. Martinez was shameless as he explained why he delayed launch. That he believed that he had already lost one friend, he wasn’t about to lose another.

Director Loch had follow-up questions for Martinez. He asked about the use of maneuvering fuel, how that impacted their launch and subsequent flight. Probing into the details of how he successfully docked the MAV with Hermes with minimal maneuverability.

“I would do it all the same way again.” Martinez said, with a glance to Mark, “Even knowing now that Mark survived, because I know he wouldn’t have wanted all of us stranded.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Major Martinez.” Loch said, his tone neutral. “Commander Lewis, if you would please recount that day from your perspective.”

As soon as her name is said, Lewis straightens, almost as if to attention. “We had begun the day with our scheduled assignments and duties. Continuing without any interruption or mishap until NASA indicated the sandstorm headed our way.” She spoke just as smoothly, devoid of any emotion as Loch. Everyone’s story was incredibly similar, starting with their day, then the notification from NASA, followed by the choice to head for the MAV. “I ordered everyone to suit up, in case the Hab lost pressure in the storm. With the wind as fast as they were, I ordered everyone to the MAV to be ready for an emergency launch should the mission be aborted.”

Her words about the storm mirrored everyone else’s, although lacked any commentary on how she felt while inside the chaos. “Martinez corrected the tilt of the MAV using the OME system, affording me extra time to search for Mark. I was reluctant to return to the MAV without locating him, it was only when Martinez urged me to return, and the need to ensure the safety of my remaining crew did I aban- end the search.”

“Thank you, Commander, for your insight, the decision you made was not an easy one.” Loch’s reply returned after several tense-filled minutes. “Can you please elaborate on the factors you used to make your decision?”

Lewis took a small breath, “There were multiple reasons that led me to my decision. NASA gave the official abort notice due to the storm. It was unclear how much longer the storm would last and there was no guarantee that the wind speed would not increase. The potential danger of losing pressure in the Hab, as well as the direct and impending outcome of the MAV tipping, which would have left us all stranded. Also, given an exhaustive search for Watney, both manually, through IR, and proximity sensors in the limited time available, the alerts from Watney’s bio-monitoring system and decompression following the incident, I reluctantly boarded the MAV. There, I gave the verbal command to launch to ensure that the rest of my crew would make it back to Hermes unharmed.”

There was no glance over to Mark, Lewis’ expression stone set as she kept her gaze forward on the screen in front of them.

On went the inquiry, all questions were posed to everyone but Mark, who grew more and more annoyed at the discomfort that his crew was going through. It was a freak accident that no one could have expected, none of them deserved to be punished for an act of nature.

“When we received word of a potential plan that could use Hermes to rescue, Mark we -,”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said cutting off Vogel as he started to explain why the crew elected to go against the explicit orders of NASA to return home and used the Rich Purnell maneuver instead. “I’m sorry, but we know why they decided to ignore NASA,” Mark started, the anger that had been building in his chest bubbling to the surface. “They decided to go back to Mars to fucking rescue me. None of you administrators on Earth have any idea what it’s like to be an astronaut, to risk your lives in the name of science and the betterment of mankind. The disconnect between you and us is wider than the distance Mars is from Earth. No where, have I felt that I’m better understood than on this ship, with these five people.”

With the delay in transmission, Mark had approximately six minutes to speak without fear of JPL interfering. “Mark.” Lewis, however, was two seats away from him, and as his commander had every right and ability to tell him to shut up.

“No, let me finish.” Mark continued, “Lewis made the right call leaving me behind that day, I was dead to them, and NASA regulations explicitly state if you die on Mars, you stay on Mars. She had no obligation to spend as much time as she did to search for me. She could’ve been like, “well, sucks to suck, Watney, you’re dead and we’re out of here.” but she didn’t, because she’s an amazing commander who understands what it’s like out here. And for the crew to disobey orders to come back to get me on Mars, well, that just shows a level of love and trust that so few people get to experience in their lifetime.”

“Mark, we understand your stance on this, but this is not the objective of this inquiry. We are not on a witch hunt, we simply need answers.” Loch’s transmission finally returned.

“I gave you the answer, why they did what they did. They did it because they’re my friends, because they knew exactly what I was going through that entire time from the moment they were told I was alive. They’re heroes, and they deserve the respect of one. If you want to ask them why they did what they did, at least have the decency to wait until we get home, when this conversation would be more practical than waiting over six minutes to talk to one another. If you want to ask technical questions like – what the hell was that communications array made of, that it was able to break apart in a dust storm, then fine. Let’s discuss mitigation, but if that isn’t the objective of this meeting then I disrespectfully excuse myself.”

Mark began to stand up, ready to leave and unbothered to wait for the response from Earth. Lewis, right behind him, caught Mark by his arm. “You know they’re just doing their jobs.”

“I know, but it’s a shitty job, nonetheless.”

“We have to answer their questions, Watney.” Lewis said, her tone softened, more sympathetic with Mark than with Loch.

“I know, but they’re shitty questions, nonetheless, Commander.” Mark said, making Lewis smile despite herself. “They’ll never understand what I went through and why you came back for me. And asking why is already outside the scope of their audit. They should be asking what mechanical or technical issues there were, not why you decided to leave me behind.”

Lewis sighed, “Mark, I don’t think anyone is ever going to be able to fully understand what you went through. They need to understand why we made these choices, to see where we could’ve made different ones. That’s how we learn to fill the gaps in our protocols. If our suits had a giant magnet in them and I could’ve just pressed it to have your body fly out of the sand and magnetize to the side of the MAV, I would’ve. But that wasn’t something anyone would’ve ever considered because there was no reason. Please, come back, and let’s make sure it never happens to anyone else.”

Mark deliberated what Lewis said, deciding if he wanted to return to that meeting or not. He didn’t want to have to stomach seeing his friends so uncomfortable and miserable. “Giant magnet, huh?” Mark poked fun, his decision was made. “Sounds like something I would’ve thought of Commander.” Lewis simply stared, waiting for Mark to come around. “Fine.” He said, “but I’m not saying sorry for that outburst.”

“I would be surprised if you did.” Lewis said, a genuine smile present with a short laugh as she pulled on his arm to bring him back to the inquiry.

Chapter Text

Mission Day: 770

Solenoids, a type of electromagnet formed from a helical coil of wire of which the length is substantially greater than its diameter. The coil can produce a uniform magnetic field in a specified volume of space as an electrical current is passed through it. In its most basic form, solenoids convert electrical energy into mechanical energy via electromagnetic forces. As the electrical current is applied, the magnetic field is created. Subsequently, a magnetic material can either be attracted or repelled from the electromagnetic field when activated.

Superior to conventional permanent magnets, solenoids can be switched off or on via the electrical current. The strength of the electromagnetic field can be altered by either increasing or decreasing the amount of electrical current supplied. Of the two basic types of solenoids there are valve and electric configurations. In valve solenoids, a constant electrical current is applied, activating a piston or plunger that retracts to open the valve otherwise blocking the flow of a material. Once the electromagnetic field is broken, the solenoid is deactivated, and the valve will close. Electric solenoids are used to close circuits, allowing engines to run. When an electric solenoid receives the current, it pulls nearby components into place, thus closing the circuit.

The hatches on Hermes feature a Linear Solenoid, one of the most widely recognized and utilized solenoids as they deliver a push or pull force when activated. This operation makes it ideal for locking mechanisms that are required to withstand significant forces when locked. These solenoids provide the strength to keep airlocks sealed against the pressure within the ship.

Vogel sipped a tepid cup of coffee. While Johannsen is the computer know-it-all for their crew, she’s unable to man the controls constantly. Taking shifts among the crew, they monitor navigation, engine output, environmental conditions both inside and outside, any and all systems and the countless, endless number of sensors that electronically monitor their multi-billion-dollar spacecraft-turned-temporary-home.

At approximately 2300 hours, an alarm sounded on the ship. It was shrill and it’s blared echoed throughout the compact space, no one could ignore it, even if they tried. Immediately, corridors sealed through the automatic system. The sensor indicating a failure of the outer door of the VAL.

“Vogel!” Commander Lewis’ voice came through the intercom, “status report.”

“It’s the VAL, Commander, sensors indicate a failure of solenoid 3A. Countermeasures against potential decompression have automatically enacted.”

“Keep me updated if anything changes.” Her voice soothing in command, Vogel gave his affirmative.

In the Rec, Mark and Martinez’s midnight pow-wow was interrupted by the blaring alarm. The conversation between Vogel and Lewis was heard throughout the ship, needing to keep everyone apprised in real time.

“Watney!” Lewis said over the comm, “I need you to get suited up and assist me with checking on damage and possible repairs.”

The path from the Rec to EVA storage remains open, the large barriers only cutting off necessary parts of the ship. There’s nothing to hinder Mark from getting to where he’s been ordered to go. Except he doesn’t move. Frozen, color drained from his face.

“Mark?” Martinez asked, brows furrowed with deep concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Watney!” Lewis called again, needing him to acknowledge.

“I can’t.” Mark whimpered; his breath shaky as a cold sweat chilled his skin. “Oh God, I can’t do it again, Rick. I can’t, I won’t.” Mark backed up, until his back hit the wall. “I knew this was going to happen!”

“You can’t do what, Mark? Knew what was going to happen?” Martinez nearly pleaded, unsure of what his friend needed at this moment. He knew what Mark’s been through, at least what he’s been told. It took a moment for him to recall the nightmares Mark shared with them weeks ago, his paranoia with the VAL. “Fuck,” Martinez muttered to himself, torn with where he was needed most.

“Mark!” Lewis’ voice sharp but unheard.

Martinez went to the intercom, “Commander, Mark is, uhm, unable to assist. I’ll be right there to suit up and help.”

“What do you mean he’s unable to assist? Is he okay? What happened?”

“I’ll be right there, Commander.” Martinez repeated and ignored Lewis’ questions. He turned to Mark, sitting on the floor, hands covered his ears against the blaring. Rick’s heart twisted, not wanting to leave his friend like this, but the integrity of the ship is at stake and needed to be addressed. “I’ll be right back, Mark. Okay?”

There’s no response, other than Mark quietly pleading to no one but himself.

“Beck, can you get to Watney? He might be injured and needs your assistance.” Lewis said, the slightest hint of concern leaked through her own words.

Beck’s already over halfway to the Rec when Lewis gave her request. He approached Martinez as they headed in opposite directions. “What happened?” He asked, he hardly slowed down to ask. A stock of medical supplies adjusted under his arm for a better hold as he had grabbed them with haste.

“I don’t know, the alarm went off, Vogel said it was the VAL and he… I don’t know, shut down? Go, I don’t want him to be alone right now.” Martinez said while he departed, then double timed it to the Commander.

Beck slid down the ladder’s side rails for a faster descent and found Mark right where Martinez left him. Mark sat on the floor, his knees up to his chest, he’d never seen Mark look this small before. “Mark?” Beck knelt down in front of his crewmate. “Mark, can you hear me?”

Mark lifted his head, his eyes wide, nearly shocked to see Beck in front of him. “Chris.” His name spoken on an exhale, “Fuck, I knew this was going to happen, I knew that damn VAL was going to fail, I knew it!” He spoke quickly, his shallow breathing bordered on hyperventilating.

“Hey, it’s okay. The situation is being handled.” Beck sat back on his heels, setting down the supplies he grabbed. None of them will help, all meant for treating a physical injury, not a mental one. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Beck asked, his hands hovered just a few inches away.

There’s no verbal confirmation but Mark nodded his consent. Beck felt Mark’s forehead, wanting to check for another fever, just in case. His skin felt more clammy than feverish. Beck dropped his hands to Mark’s shoulders, down over his arms, he gave them a reassuring and grounding squeeze. “Can you try and take a deep breath for me?” Beck asked calmly, smoothly.

Mark only managed a few stuttering breaths at first but was soon able to bring in bigger lung filling breaths.

“Great, just focus on breathing for a few minutes for me.” Beck did the same, he took deep breaths in, then slowly exhaled out of his mouth. He watched Mark, his eyes a bit frantic as he searched the surrounding area. “Hey,” Beck said, getting Mark’s attention again. “Look at me, okay? Just look at me. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Their eyes locked on one another, Mark tried to focus, but the longer he stared at the doctor, the longer the alarm blared, the more his features began to crumple. “Fuck,” He breathed, eyes closed tight, and tears slid down his cheeks.

His body felt like it was rejecting itself, doing everything opposite of what he wanted. Astronauts aren’t meant to panic, they aren’t meant to freeze up when something goes wrong. He’s the ship’s mechanical engineer and the thought of being unable to perform the duties he was painstakingly selected to execute only compounded the fear Mark felt.

“I must finally be losing it. Honestly, thought it would happen sooner.” Mark made a feeble attempt at joking, his go-to defense mechanism.

“No, Mark, you aren’t losing it. You’re having a panic attack.” Beck gently informed him. “And I’m going to do my best to bring back to safe place.”

If there was anyone on the ship that Mark trusted his life with, it was everyone, and if it wasn’t everyone it was Doctor Christopher Beck, Yale educated, NASA trained, one hell of a jaw line, and compassionate beyond belief.

“If that damn alarm could turn off, that would be great.” The constant and sustained blaring grated his nerves, his stomach twisted in knots and wasn’t sure if he’d be sick or not.

“Yes, I know, it will stop soon enough. Try your best to not focus on it and focus on me instead. I want you to take another deep breath, hold it just for a moment before slowly exhaling.” Beck demonstrated the request and repeated it along with Mark. He stopped, “That’s great, keep doing that.” He encouraged as he moved to sit fully on the ground, his legs crossed in front of him. “I want you to do your best to relax, try stretching your legs out.” Beck requested as he lightly tapped both of Mark’s knees in a deliberate motion.

There’s no witty remark, no resistance as Mark followed along with Beck’s simple requests. He listened to him talk, trying not to focus on anything else. Minutes pass, his breathing remained deep. Beck watched and carefully moved in front of him. Neither of them realized that the alarms had stopped, that silence surrounded them.

“How you’re feeling?” Beck asked and leaned forward slightly to place another deliberate touch on Mark’s shoulders.

“Less panic attack-y.” Mark said and now found himself embarrassed that it happened it all. “Sorry, I don’t…” He trailed, it would be a lie to say he didn’t know what triggered it. The wail of the alarm like all the ones that would constantly be ringing in the Hab during all of his wild experiments to stay alive. The airlock being compromised, the memory of being launched from the Hab in the airlock so fresh it made the small scar on his forehead feel anew with how sudden and real it was. Mark swore he could feel blood trickling down his face again.

“All systems are operating,” Vogel said through the intercom. “All alerts on the sensors have been cleared.”

“The airlock was intact and secure. All locks are operational and fully functional. We’ll have to run diagnostics, but my best guess is a faulty sensor. We’ve had those failing left and right, being well pushed past their expected performance range.” Lewis replied for the whole crew to be updated.

“I fucking hate sensors.” Mark said with a weary shake of his head.

“Just as useful as they are inconvenient at this point.” Beck agreed as he moved back to his knees. “Think you can stand up?” He asked after getting to his feet and offered a hand in assistance.

Mark took it, half hauled to his feet, half stood under his own strength. “When did you get so strong?”

“I didn’t, you just need to gain more weight.”

“You do know it’s rude to talk about a lady’s weight, right?”

Beck smiled, glad that Mark can always work his way back to his joking nature. “Do you need anything?” He asked, not wanting to diminish what just happened.

Mark bit his lower lip before wetting them with the tip of his tongue. “No… I think I’ll be okay.” A pause, “For now.” Mark added, using another brief second of silence to ground himself. “We’re going to have to tell Lewis, aren’t we?”

Beck offered Mark a sympathetic look but didn’t lie. “Yes, we are. But Mark, it doesn’t reflect poorly on you. You went through an ordeal no one else ever has, in a situation and a place no one could’ve ever expected. I think you should try and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to have lasting, possibly life-changing impacts that you aren’t fully aware of yet. And the chances of this happening again are high.”

Marked hummed, not sure exactly how to respond to that. The impact of his unexpected and extended stay on Mars is something Mark has thought about extensively. But is also something he wished he could ignore, he didn’t want to be different, he wanted to be himself. But who he is after eighteen months stranded on a different planet, he couldn’t be sure.

“Let’s go find Lewis, rather get this over with sooner rather than later.”

Log Entry
Mission Day: 770

Well, that sucked. I still feel so… off kilter. The crew ran the diagnostics, there’s nothing wrong with the VAL. There’s nothing wrong with the VAL. Why, why does being off Mars feel just as difficult as being stuck there? Talking to Lewis felt like being a little kid in the principle’s office after getting in trouble for something you didn’t do. Lewis was clearly concerned about my response to what I’ll call the VAL Incident. But I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of concern it was. Was it a concern for me or was it a concern about me and the massive liability I present to the crew?

I was put on light duty, again. Botany experiments only, no direct work on Hermes. I’m pretty sure she’s more concerned about the crew than myself. It’s unfair to say but hard not to think. I’m more concerned about them than I am myself. They’re the ones transporting damaged goods at this point.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 772

If I’m honest, I’m surprised at how long Mark managed to go without experiencing a full-on panic attack. Despite having all of his logs and notes that he kept when he was alone on Mars, we’ll never truly be able to understand what he went through. We’ll know the facts, how he ended up left behind, everything that he did to keep himself alive. It was an incredible experience that I’m not sure anyone, including Mark, will never truly be able to quantify and record.

After his panic attack yesterday, Lewis relegated him to light duty again. Mark wasn’t happy about the decision. It was easy to tell he took the decision personally. Knowing Mark, and how proud of a man he can be, he likely sees it as Lewis setting him aside to keep him out of the way in case something else happens. I’m not a psychologist, and the psych classes I took were ages ago, but I do know how to think like an astronaut. And that’s exactly what I’d be thinking if Lewis did the same thing to me.

Naturally, it put Mark in a bit of a mood. He’s been keeping to himself a little more than he has been. Lewis asked me to keep an eye on him, make sure I don’t see any other signs of distress. I didn’t know how to tell her that I’ve been seeing signs of distress from him the moment he got on this ship. Things I don’t know if Mark even realizes that he’s been doing. He was in survival mode for a year and half, and I don’t know how that’ll impact him now or in the long run.

I do feel guilty, occasionally, pretty often actually, when I find myself watching Mark. He went through an experience that no other human has. To be isolated from anyone else, not in a remote part of the world, not in a specific solitary confinement room, not out of his own free will to escape to a cabin in the Smokey Mountains. He was left, isolated on a planet 230 million kilometers away from Earth, away from any other human. At least those who are in isolation on Earth know that there are still other people around. He was truly, completely alone. Alone and operated on the assumption that he could die at any given time.

There’s that scientist in me that wants to do more tests, to find more answers to questions I haven’t even known to ask yet. Then I remember that this person is my friend, is someone who has gone through an unspeakable trauma and he doesn’t need to be poked and studied. He needs compassion and time. I know Mark is beyond excited to get home, more than anyone else on this ship. But I do fear what the doctors are going to put him through when we finally land. The medical exam for any astronaut that lands back on Earth is lengthy and invasive. We’re all in for some rigorous testing, but Mark is going to be subjected to, bombarded with, every single medical test anyone could possibly imagine.

The usual post-flight rehabilitation program that all astronauts undergo when returning from a long stint in space is about forty-five days. We undergo systematic, specially designed tests to restore our bodies to pre-space condition. This isn’t an optional program, when astronauts return to Earth our systems are out of whack. The vestibular system isn’t used to being subjected to gravitational forces. Hermes provides us will some assistance, but it’s not perfect, it’s only 0.8G at most. Being in space causes a whole slew of medical concerns. Bone and muscle wasting, psychological impacts, visual acuity changes, not to forget the high levels of radiation that we’re subjected to (I won’t get into my reaction when Mark told me he hung out next to the RTG for WEEKS).

There are things to counteract these problems, but most of the data collected from these problems have been from astronauts who spent time on the retired International Space Station. Not astronauts who have spent years in space in one long stay.

I haven’t talked with Mark about any of this. Not that I need to, he’s been briefed and taught all the possible side effects of space travel. I’m sure he’s well aware that he’ll become a human pincushion the moment NASA has him in their grasp. I tell myself that he’s probably going to be okay with that, because at least he’s going to be on Earth. I’m going to check in with him more often, for the rest of the trip home. Because as much as he might be put off about being considered a potential liability due to his mental state, it’s a very real thing we have to consider. If he completely loses it, he could hurt someone or himself. I don’t fear that this will happen, if anyone can battle the outcome of being stuck in space, it’s an astronaut. And if there is one astronaut that can, I’d put all my money on Mark Watney.

Chapter Text

Mission Day: ?

Hermes had finally reached its destination. The elation the crew felt was palpable between all of them. Mark, especially, was excited in a way that he couldn’t explain. This was going to be a new experience for him, one that he’d never forget. The crew began to suit up, to make their descent and finally get off the spaceship after months of travel.

Mark stood at the window and stared down at the planet below. His whole life, he never imagined he’d be here, seeing this view. Lewis took a place at his side, her gaze locked onto the same sight as him.

“We finally made it.” She said, a smile on her face while she kept her attention out the window.

“I know, it’s felt like forever.” Mark replies. ‘Forever’ is not really the right word for it, not summing up how long he’s waited for this. He’s wanted to go to Mars for as long as he could remember. When NASA first announced the Ares program, Mark knew right then he would do whatever it took to be an astronaut and selected for one of those missions. When Ares 1 returned home, they were idolized, revered as planetary heroes. Mark didn’t want the prestige, he wanted the experience.

“We’ll be down there before you know it, Mark.” Lewis said, she’s still looking out the window at the red planet below, transfixed.

An alarm started to blare, Mark jumped at the sudden noise, but Lewis remained steadfast as ever. There was no reaction from her at all.

“Commander, we have reports of engine failure.” It’s Johannsen who relayed the message, from the control center, about the situation at hand.

“Okay.” Lewis said, she didn’t move, didn’t blink.

More alarms joined, lights started flashing, “Commander, we have a haul breach, and life support is going offline.” It was Beck this time, why didn’t any of them seem concerned? Why wasn’t the commander doing something?

“Commander, we need to go fix these issues!” Mark shouted, but it was like he isn’t heard. “Hello?!”

More blaring, more beeping, Mark’s knocked off his feet as Hermes took a steep nosedive, accelerating as it became more out of control.

“We have a reactor core containment breach and artificial gravity is offline.” Vogel added to the list of emergencies.

“Melissa!” Mark pleaded, while trying to gain some footing, any amount of control as Hermes hurdled closer and closer to the planet below. The red, rusted desert of Mars approached dangerously fast. “What are you doing?!” He shouted without any success. Lewis remained impassive.

“Time to arrival, four minutes, thirty-one seconds.” Martinez announced.

“Arrival?! More like impact!” Mark slid his way to Lewis, grabbed onto her pant leg, it was only then that she looked down at Mark.

“Watney, status report.”

Bewildered, Mark was speechless, he didn’t know how to respond, had no idea what to say. “The status report is that we’re all about to fucking die on Mars!”

Lewis shook her head, “Watney, please. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Time to arrival, three minutes, six seconds.” Martinez updated.

“Commander please, please! We’re going to die!”

A heavy sigh was blown out of Lewis’ nose. “No, Mark, we aren’t going to die.” She picked him up off the floor, as if he weighed nothing, and brought him into a tight embrace. To his ear she whispered, “You are.”

Misson Day: 774

With a gasp, Mark sat up in bed so quickly that he whacked his head on the top of his bunk. “Fuck!” He recoiled, ducked and rolled to the side to sit on the edge of his cot. He panted, put his feet flat against the ground, hands gripped the bed clothes. “It was a dream, Mark.” He told himself, “A nightmare.” He corrected. His heart raced, his skin prickled with sweat and lingering anxiety. The heat issue was still not fully repaired but somewhat managed. At least it wasn’t insufferable in his room anymore.

Mark pushed himself up and out of his bed to leave his quarters. He knew there was nothing wrong with Hermes, but that didn’t stop him from finding his way to the control center. He needed that small amount of reassurance that nothing was wrong, that they were right on schedule and safely cruising towards Earth, not back towards that hell hole of a planet.

It’s Lewis, who sat behind the controls when Mark appeared in the entryway. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew he was there. “You’re up late.” She said before swiveling in her seat to face him. The strange, malicious look of calm that she expressed in his nightmare was nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, guess I’m still on Mars time.” Mark said as he moved to take the open seat next to her. Half strapped in to not float away.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. Both listened to the hum of the ship’s systems, watched the continuous readouts in front of them. It was relaxing, in a comforting way. The ship wasn’t in a nosedive to the surface of Mars, and the computer still had them piloted towards Earth.

Mark’s about to get up when Lewis spoke. “I want you to know that assigning you back to light duty wasn’t a personal decision.”

Mark hummed, “Well, I won’t lie, it feels rather personal.”

“I know, I’d feel the same way. I know you’re a competent astronaut, an outstanding scientist, and one hell of a problem-solver, Mark. The choice wasn’t a reflection on your abilities to perform your duties.”

“Okay…”

“I made the choice because I don’t want you to get burnt out, to not get overwhelmed.”

“Commander, being on this ship is a hell of a lot easier than being back on, Mars, trust me. I can do my job.”

“I know you can. But I want you to take it easy, I’m not going to treat you as if you’re made of glass and one wrong move will cause you to shatter. But it is undeniable that you went through a trauma, and anyone who survived what you did deserves the downtime.” Lewis explained, occasionally she looked between the controls and Mark.

Silence fell between them again for several long moments. “I don’t disagree, I think I deserve to go on vacation for at least six months where there’s unlimited free drinks, music that isn’t disco, a bed that’s absurdly large, and there isn’t a potato in sight.” Lewis smiled, amused and Mark breathed laughed. “But Commander, I’m not on vacation yet and as much as I agree with you, I can’t sit around and let the rest of the crew pick up my slack when I could be doing it myself.”

Lewis considered his response, her attention back to the control panel to make a sight adjustment. “Okay,” she said and leaned back in her seat, turned towards Mark. “You can go back on full duty, but you have to check in with Beck or me, every day. And just to make sure you don’t feel singled out, I’m going to have the entire crew do the same thing. I need to make sure we get home safe and sound.”

Mark swallowed hard, the acceleration Hermes had taken on in his nightmare felt real, as his stomach swooped. “Thank you, Commander.”

“And if you ever feel even the slightest bit stressed out or -,”

Mark cut her off and floated from the second seat. “I’ll tell you.” Mark said, beating her to the punch. Lewis nodded to show her appreciation. “I’m going to go get a snack, do you want anything? Your choices are freeze-dried protein bar, freeze-dried protein bar, or a freeze-dried protein bar.”

Lewis grinned this time, “Well, in that case, I think I’ll have a freeze-dried protein bar.”

“Excellent choice, one of NASA’s finest coming right up.”

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 798

There are exactly 100 days left of this trip. Just a little over three months and we’ll be back to Earth. It still strikes me at the most unexpected moments, knowing that I’ll be back home. I can’t say how many times I expected, believed, was certain beyond doubt, that I wasn’t going to make it off Mars and now I’m in the last 100 days to home, back to Earth.

I might make one of those paper chains that little kids make in school, and you rip one chain off a day that leads up to the last day. I did that once when I was in third grade, I made a paper chain that had about eighty chains in it. I cut out every single strip and glued them all together myself. I was counting down the days until the new Daredevil movie was released. Look, I know that suit he wore wasn’t the best, and that the plot was all over the place, but you have seen Jennifer Garner, right?

I had used some spare paper to make that chain, but it turned out to be from my dad’s tax documents. How was I supposed to know? I was eight and had a paper chain to make! He still took me to see Daredevil. Mmm, Jennifer Garner.

Just need to find something to make the chain with, we don’t have a lot of spare paper laying around.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 803

Sometimes I wonder why I told Lewis I want to go back to a full work schedule. I work an average of sixteen hours a day, for six-and-a-half days a week. We usually get Sundays off, but we still have our mandatory two hours of daily exercise, so our bones don’t turn into dust. Turns out it isn’t giants that grind you up, it’s space. We’re also “on-call” for twenty-four hours a day. If there is an IT issue, a plumbing problem, a chemical leak, a medical emergency, we can’t just call up folks back home to come help. We gotta do it ourselves. It’s what really makes being an astronaut exhausting at times.

It's sorta like owning a house. My Dad once said, ‘if you aren’t constantly working on your home then it’s falling apart.’ He departed this great wisdom upon me when I complained one summer about having to help him paint the house. It was good advice, for someone who owned a home. Something I took to heart later when it came between the choice to buy a house or rent something. Ended up renting a sweet little condo with an even more little yard.

Cost me 1,950 dollars a month in rent, utilities not included, an extra 50 bucks for my dog, and wifi included but really, it just meant it was an extra payment on top of rent. Totaled around 2,200 dollars. Kept signing that lease over and over, until i died.

Which I guess… is what happened. I keep forgetting I don’t have anywhere to live anymore, since corporate landlords are not sympathetic if one’s misfortune of being mistakenly left behind on an entirely different planet.

Sigh. Maybe I’ll buy a condo this time. I’m sure I’ll have enough money from the hazard pay I’m owed for the down payment.

It was the time of day when Johannsen downloaded incoming data, including any personal letters, photos, and videos to send along from family and friends.

With the crew gathered around, they talked amongst themselves as they waited for the download to finish, and respective emails be sent to each of their personal tablets.

Vogel, Martinez, and Beck chatted about vacations they had taken to various places in Europe. Vogel mostly telling Beck that he needed to visit Germany, “I’ve already been to Berlin.”

“But you haven’t been to Bavaria, a much better part of the country.”

Mark lingered behind Beth’s chair, watching her type away. “You know, you staring at the download bar doesn’t make it go any faster.”

“No? Well, have you tried it? Maybe you haven’t stared hard enough, or long enough.”

“I’ve stared at them plenty. It doesn’t work.”

“Maybe it doesn’t like you, it’s shy.”

“The computer doesn’t like me? Don’t say such offensive things, Mark. Creating a hostile work environment. I’ll have to report you to the Commander.”

“Hear that, Lewis? I’m creating a hostile work environment.”

Lewis rolls her eyes, coming to stand behind Beth as well. “I’ll be sure to note it in your file.”

Their conversations continued apace, enjoying each other’s company. Until everyone’s attention was drawn away immediately at the quickest sound of something banging against the haul. Nobody moved, everyone silently looking to each other to make sure they weren’t the only ones who heard that.

“Uh oh,” Beth was the first to say.

“What?” Lewis asked quickly.

Beth pointed at her screen, the download failed at 74% and a warning displayed in angry letters.

TRANSMISSION LOST
SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 803 - 2

Our goddamn communications array went down. Until someone goes out there and inspects the damage, we won’t be sure what the extent is. We have redundant systems; Johannsen was able to get it online in just a few minutes and has been in contact with Houston. But goddamn! I’m just glad I wasn’t outside doing an EVA when it happened. Communications arrays and I don’t get along very well. Probably should work on our communication. Ha. Ha.

Also, without going out to inspect the damage, we can’t say exactly how or why it was broken in the first place. The assumption that it was a hit-and-run with another spaceship. Not really. It was likely a small-ish meteoroid, a micrometeoroid, struck the array as it whizzed past. The statistical likelihood of us getting struck by a meteoroid is low. Low, but not impossible. As so demonstrated. At least, that’s what we assume. There are other explanations, but they are somehow more improbable than being attacked by a space rock.

But they include:

The array could’ve been fatigued and broken down (same, communications array, same), although that’s unlikely because it was built really well. Of course, I thought the one put together on Mars was built really well until I was impaled by the damn thing. It could’ve been space ghosts. I’m not beneath the idea, I was almost an angry space ghost. I would have haunted the hell out of Ares 4 while they were on Mars and hitched a ride back with them. That’s the nice thing about being a ghost, they have no weight, so NASA doesn’t need to account for their mass when doing all the crazy calculations needed to determine how much stuff can come home.

There’s also the chance that it was space gremlins, ie. like that old episode of The Twilight Zone. There’s something on the communications array! It’s a space gremlin! And then William Shatner loses his mind. I think Beck would play the role of ol’ Shatner in our reproduction. I could go on, but I suppose I will settle for a boring meteoroid.

A secondary issue is that someone needs to go out there and look. Beck will be going, the EVA specialist that he is, but he is not, unfortunately for me, a trained mechanical engineer. Unfortunately for me, I am the trained mechanical engineer. I haven’t done an EVA since leaving the surface of Mars. I told Lewis I can do my job, and this is part of my job, so suck it up Watney and go put on that space suit.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 803 – 3

Maybe it was a ghost meteoroid.

Lewis, Beck, and Johannsen gathered in one of the labs. They offered a little bit more space than the meager room in the Rec area. As the commander, EVA specialist, and communications specialist, they were all critical to this side mission. In front of them, screens displayed schematics for the communications arrays mounted on the outside of the vessel. Narrowing down which of the three systems went down wasn’t difficult when the computer was able to tell you which one was offline. That, and the added benefit of listening to exactly where the minor impact occurred.

When Mark finally made his approach to join, they were all in deep conversation about the plan to perform the EVA. The trio simultaneously looked up when Mark reached the bottom of the ladder.

“Perfect timing, Watney.” Lewis was the first to say. “We just started going over duties to perform. Beck will make his egress first, moving along the side of the ship to determine if there was any other damage caused by the strike. After his initial inspection has been completed, we’ll ensure you have all the proper tools required to make any fixes as needed.” She only glanced up once at Mark during her explanation, and that was when greeting him. She kept her attention on the screens, pointing along to show the route Beck would be transversing to reach the affected area. Only when she was done, did she look back up. “Sound good?”

Her question brought all three of them to look at Mark. A feeling of scrutiny overcame him, as if they were inspecting him for any damage of his own. “Yep, sounds like a plan alright.”

“Great, take some time to review any schematics, blueprints, and technical details as needed. We’ll get Beck suited up first and sent out and then you can follow.”

Mark nods, “Okey-dokey.”

“Johannsen, go and join Vogel in the control center, you can walk Watney through any specifics regarding the communications array. Martinez will be on deck to join as a third if needed. I’m going to go assist Beck in suiting up and then Mark, after I will join you in the control center.”

Beth started to gather up her computer, “And just to be clear, the objective isn’t to repair the downed array?”

“Yes, we have the two back-ups, we don’t know the extent of the damage, but we haven’t lost communication. The only things that should be fixed are any other potential issues that could negatively impact the duration of our trip home. Once Hermes is back in Earth’s orbit any repairs can be conducted at that time. If there are no critical repairs identified, I want you both back on the ship.” Lewis looked to Mark, specifically, as she advised them to return. “We don’t necessarily need to fix everything that is broken.”

“Understood.” Beck said.

“Roger that.” Mark added.

“Let’s get started, then.” Lewis didn’t waste time leaving, her departure closely followed by Beck’s. Leaving Beth and Mark to go over any specific details as needed.

Nearly two hours passed for Beck to get suited up and finish his traverse along the side of Hermes. In that time, Mark studied any relevant material. He hadn’t forgotten it, he memorized this ship long ago and it’ll likely be with him the rest of his life. As the engineer, he’s responsible for fixing things. The rest of the crew is capable of repairs, but as with everyone’s main specialties, there are tasks that are assumed to be executed by specific crew members.

Sitting in the main seat, Beth has been monitoring Beck’s EVA, along with Vogel. Martinez has gone over everything with Mark as his main backup.

“You ready for this?” Martinez asked, knowing that Lewis will be calling for them any minute now.

“Yeah, still have this ol’ girl memorized inside and out.” Mark replied and patted the console in front of him. His attention is still on the screens, currently zoomed in on the specs of the main array.

Martinez watched him idlily for a moment. “No, I mean are you ready for this?” The panic attack he witnessed his friend experience recently, fresh in his mind. He doesn’t doubt Mark’s skills, his ability, and his mechanical know-how are a few of the main reasons he survived on Mars.

Mark broke his attention away from the screen, “Yes, Martinez, I’m ready for this.” A slight edge of defensiveness in his tone.

Immediately, Rick raised his hands. “That’s not what I meant. I know you can do this, but it’s your first EVA since Mars, I wouldn’t blame you for any apprehension you might have.”

The sour expression over Mark’s features softened and disappeared into neutral resting. He’s not sure what bothered him more - the fact that he does feel slightly apprehensive about leaving the relative safety of Heremes, or that Martinez clocked him on it so easily. He sighed, “I’m fine, I promise. I have ninety-four days left on this ship, and sooner or later I’m going to have to get into an EVA suit, or flight suit, to get back to Earth. Might as well do it now, while we’re hurdling through open space.”

“I believe you, but if there’s any part of you that doesn’t want to do this, just tell me. I’ll go in your place no questions asked.”

Since his chat with Lewis, about checking in with the crew, Mark’s noticed the crew checking in more with him. It frustrates him that he’s not more thankful about how much his crew is concerned about him. They wouldn’t be asking if they didn’t care about him. But he can’t help but think about other motives. That they want to prevent him from being a liability.

“I appreciate that, really, I do. But I can do this.” Mark said in a firm, convincing tone, both for Martinez and himself. There was no more debate after that.

Lewis already had the EVA suit prepped for Mark when he arrived in the airlock. The same one that had a faulty sensor, the same one that caused his panic attack, but he pushed that out of his mind, needing to focus on the task at hand.

“Beck identified one area that should be fixed. Where the array was struck and subsequently detached and hit the haul. It’s minor damage, possibly even cosmetic, but don’t need any imperfections catching any drag.” Lewis repeats information that had already been relayed.

“Shouldn’t be a problem to buff out. I’ll make sure to give Hermes a nice wax coat when I’m done.”

“As long as you can finish easily and safely.” Lewis said while she assisted Mark in the process of putting on his suit. She tripled checked each facet, secured his gloves tight over his hands, and anchored tools to his belt. It was a lengthy process, but one that needed to be performed perfectly every time. The last thing to attach was his helmet.  “Ready?” Lewis asked. Her question wasn’t like Martinez’s, where it was a question of whether he was ready to take this on. Lewis’ version of the question was purely for his readiness to get out there and do his job. The confirmation to continue.

Mark looked out the airlock’s window, nothing but blackness around them, just able to see Beck’s tether floating away from the ship. “Ready.” Mark confirmed, confident as ever.

It didn’t take Mark long to find Beck, anchored alongside the haul. “Welcome outside, Watney.” Beck said over the comm, he smiled but the gesture was lost behind the reflective face shield.

“Thanks, glad to be here.” Mark replied, reaching the site that Beck had previously identified and tethered himself to the spot. “We’ve got some nice weather today.”

“A balmy two kelvin.”

“Practically a heat wave.” Mark smiled behind his own visor as he turned to the task at hand.

The downed communications array, or what was left of it, had done minor damage. Mark inspected the area that Beck had identified. It was superficial, but outside of the acceptable limits for external variation. Every small imperfection increased the drag on the ship. Space being a total vacuum isn’t entirely true, the density so low it’s easy to say it’s a vacuum. But very low isn’t zero, and that’s all it takes to lead to potential issues.

Under normal circumstances that nearly nonexistent drag would be irrelevant. However, given the amount of time Hermes had been in space, accelerating home, the impact drag creates on the ship, on fuel production and consumption, the already taxed cooling veins, it all adds up.

“I agree with Beck’s assessment, the damage is minimal, save for part of the array missing.” Mark paused, looking around in his limited range of motion, as if he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of the floating antenna. 

Mark stilled, his gaze ahead, locked onto the vast amount of nothing that stretched away from him in all directions. He took a breath as a constricted feeling settled in his chest.

“Watney?” Lewis’ voice chimed in over their comms. “Your heart rate is picking up. Are you okay?” Just as their suits on Mars had been, these suits were constantly monitoring their vital signs. “Watney.” Lewis prompted sharply when she didn’t receive an immediate response.

Beck’s thickly gloved hand reached out, “Mark?” he asked as his hand rested on Mark’s wrist.

It was a simple touch but enough to bring Mark back to the present moment. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? We can send out Martinez, just give us the word.” Lewis said, the offer one of good nature, not carrying the subtly that it was really an order.

“Yes, I’m sure.” There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in Mark’s reply. “The site of impact is deeper than I expected, not going to be able to give it a buffing to call it a day. It’ll take a little bit of time, but I’m going to fill the area with the hull epoxy, buff, and reevaluate. If that doesn't appear to be sufficient, I’ll excise the damage and weld on a patch.”

“Copy.” Lewis replied, “Clear to proceed when ready.”

“Roger that.”

“Starting hull repair at 13:03 UTC.” Beck added and the repair got underway.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 803 – 4

My first EVA went smoothly, if I do say so myself. The repairs for the ship were done without issue. I’d rather not admit to the small frantic feeling that passed quickly when that helmet went on or the feeling of anxiety that felt like it’d dug deep claws into my chest during the airlock decompression. Nor the slightly overwhelming sensation of just nothingness that struck me while hooked to the side of the ship. I am not admitting to these things, despite them being permanently recorded.

I’ve done more EVAs than any other astronaut alive. I’m proud of myself for completing another, for completing my duties as the ship’s engineer. It was scary, but I had to do it. That was the mentality that got me through each day back on Mars.

 But, if I don’t do another EVA this entire trip, it’ll still be none too many.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 829

Nothing remarkable has happened the past two-ish weeks. The only updates that I’ve been making are logs of my experiments. There’s only so much one can do in space, I had more to do when I was on Mars than on Hermes. I only have my work that needs focus now, not the work of six people. Mind you, I’m not upset about that. It’s great not to worry about every single little problem by myself anymore. Doesn’t stop me from being bored though. But that’s a byproduct of space.

I am, however, exponentially pleased to have my own data stick back. I keep thinking about how Martinez didn’t bring anything with him to the surface of Mars. We had packed schedules planned out for the Ares 3 surface mission, but we did still have some downtime. I’ll need to ask him what he had planned on doing. Sit around and twiddle his thumbs? Glad to be able to watch my shows and movies, listen to the music that I brought for myself. Don’t tell Lewis, but I see the charm in those old TV shows. I’m even considering asking her if I can watch a few episodes of Three’s Company again.

Nope, nothing notable has happened lately. Except today. Today is my birthday. Forty-three years old. I had completely forgotten about my birthday last year, never crossed my mind that I could’ve still celebrated it. Being on Mars alone makes you have different priorities. I think I should be allowed to do that birthday over again, I’m only forty-two I’ve decided. Or am I older? Mars days are longer, take longer to get around the sun too. Eh, whatever. I’ve never been the one to harp on my birthday. It never needed to be a big ordeal, a dinner out with a free dessert was always plenty.

This birthday feels different. I never expected to make it to this one, or even the last. Mars conspired to kill me in so many ways, I think I used up all my nine lives and plus some. Feels like borrowed time now. Or time returned. With any other crew member, I’m sure there’s something planned for today. Everyone has been acting furtive and secretive for the last two days. Usually that doesn’t start until the day of someone’s birthday.

Looking forward to a foil wrapped protein bar with my name on it. Maybe I’ll even make a wish when I blow out the “candles”.

Everyone gathered in the Rec, ready and waiting for Mark to join them. There was no pretended to hide this time, no jumping out and yelling surprise. The crew sat around the table, the foil wrapped ration present, along with his personal tablet.

“This seems more ominous than celebratory.” Mark said as he steped off the ladder, and took the last open seat between Vogel and Johannsen.

“We figured you wouldn’t want a big to-do for your birthday today.” Martinez supplied, having been the one to suggest something subdued for today.

“You’d be right.”

“Won’t stop us from saying happy birthday, though. Because, happy birthday, Mark.” Beck said first, followed by everyone else chiming in with the same sentiment.

Mark swallows a thick wave of emotion, “Thank you. I mean it, haven’t heard anyone tell me that in a little while.” He said, despite everyone being aware.

“We have something for you.” Lewis started, she reached for the two items in the middle of the table. “First, your very own protein birthday bar.” Scrawled on the packaging, just as with Beck’s birthday was ‘Happy Birthday, Mark!’.

“Thank you, how’d you know freeze-dried was my favorite flavor?” A smile present as he took the offered food.

“But, we do have more.” Lewis said as she turned the tablet to herself. She tapped the screen a few times and pulled up a folder. “Happy Birthday, Mark.” She said, handing it over to him screen first.

Tablet in hand, Mark found the folder labeled ‘Birthday’. It hadn’t been there earlier; Johannsen must’ve downloaded it to his tablet just before they gathered. He glanced up to his crew and received encouragement from everyone in the form of a little head nod, a glance at the tablet, a smile, and Martinez telling him to go ahead. A single tap opened it, showing off dozens of files. Both text and video.

Not wanting to play one of the videos out loud, he opened the first text file labeled ‘For Mark’.

It’s a surprisingly lengthy letter from his PhD advisor.

              Mark,

Out of all my students I’ve had over the years, I somehow knew you were going to make the biggest impact. If only I knew exactly how widespread that impact was going to be. Here at your alma mater, your accomplishments are revered and spoken of with respect. I cannot begin to understand what you went through, but I felt it was necessary to let you know how much your survival has affected those back on Earth. Not just in the sectors of botany or sustainability, not just in research and the scientific community. Being able to follow your journey, to watch you survive through one hardship and the next was inspiration to so many. Issues that once felt insurmountable became trivial as people began to think outside the box, looking for unconventional solutions for answers.

I know, for a fact, you’ve saved lives.

I cannot compare my journey to yours, but it provided me with the strength I needed. Shortly after the world found out you were alive; I was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was angry, I was scared. The prognosis wasn’t good. Resistant to conventional treatments, I had to endure radiation therapy, chemotherapy, and all the side effects those bring.

There were multiple times I considered surrendering to the disease that was taking control of my own body, taking away my agency. Any time I found myself in those darker moments, all I had to do was look at the night sky. To find the direction of Mars and remember that even millions of miles away, in a situation you didn’t ask for, faced with your mortality every day but continued to push on. I knew that I could do the same.

Two months ago, my cancer was declared in remission, and I wept at the news. I wanted to tell you first, before I told my family, before I told any friends. I wanted to share my news with you, despite our hardships not being the same, I wanted to tell someone who understands what it truly means to keep hold of something important, no matter how intangible that may be. Life, while full of things that we can grasp, is led by things we cannot see. The drive, the desire to see tomorrow, to make it through today and experience what life has to bring.

In saving yourself, you saved me, Mark. Of that I have no doubt. I am honored to have had the privilege to be a part of your academic life, to be a part of something that has benefited so many people and myself in return. Coming out of a situation where I was certain I would have died has left me with a renewed passion for life. I can only hope it has done the same for you.

I am told this should be delivered to you on your birthday. For that, I wish you a happy birthday, and for all the ones to follow. You’re a hero, Mark, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

              Sincerely your friend,

              Sean R. Jiles.

Mark read the letter over twice. His relationship with his advisor had been nothing special. Meeting up when direction was needed for his dissertation and advice for completing his doctoral degree. Mark had never considered them friends, not outside an academic setting, at least. Now, he viewed Mark as one of the reasons why he was still alive.

Mark tapped back out of the message to the folder, the list of files is long, and Mark doesn’t know where to start. He scrolled the list, items titled ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘Proud of you’, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and on and on. The first message alone was enough to glaze his eyes over.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I don’t know what to say. How long have you been collecting these?”

“Since we got you back on the ship.” Beth answered.

“I’m… thank you.” Mark said, not sure how else to express his gratitude.

“Of course, figured you could use a good birthday present.” Beck said.

“Happy birthday, Mark.” Lewis said again, “You deserve all that and more.”

“God, you guys are a bunch of saps.” Mark teased, despite a few spare tears that managed to escape. “Come here and give me a hug.”

No one hesitated at the request.

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 848

Today is Halloween. Growing up, Halloween was my favorite holiday. I think it might still be. You can dress up to be whatever you want, and people give you free candy. What a great idea. My mom likes to tell people the story of how from the ages of three to ten I dressed up as an astronaut every year. It wasn’t always the same astronaut and sometimes even a cosmonaut, although people would still say, ‘What a great astronaut costume!’ and I would have to inform them that I was a member of the Russian space agency, and they were called cosmonauts. Technically, a more accurate term.

After ten, I dressed up as various superheroes, western icons, and then decided I was too old to go trick-or-treating, because it was for babies. Until I went to college, then people had Halloween parties, and perhaps a little too much to drink would lead to knocking on people’s doors way too late in the evening asking for candy. It worked once, from what I remember. Which isn’t a lot.

Another notable important fact about today is that there is now only fifty days left until we are back home. Not just Earth’s orbit, fifty days and we’ll be getting into the shuttle to take us back down to solid ground. I try not to think about it too much, it makes me both very excited and nervous at the same time. It’s overwhelming. I shouldn’t be afraid to return home. But after being gone for so long and being a global spectacle, I don’t know what my life on planet Earth is going to be like. I don’t want it to be different, but I don’t think I have a choice anymore.

I keep thinking about the question Johannsen asked me all those days ago when I had been back on Hermes. Am I afraid to go home? Yes, yes, I am, without a doubt. But I am also ready to go home, and if it’s one thing I learned on Mars is that it’s okay to do things scared. Because that’s better than not doing it at all.

Mission Day: 859

“They want me to do what?” Mark asked, incredulously.

“You’ve been requested to go live with the president.” Lewis repeated the request that had been relayed to her from NASA’s PR department.

“For what?”

“What do you mean, ‘for what’? To talk to him, to talk to the nation. You’ve been the hot topic on news outlets for over a year, Mark. They want interviews.”

“You do the interview, you know what we’ve been doing.”

“I would if I could.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t. You have to be the one to do it.”

“We’re still so far out for practical communication.” Mark’s attempted reasoning why this is pointless.

“I know, they know, we all know. The delay is worth it for these people right now. They don’t want to wait until we get home. So, you’re going to give them the interview they want, Watney.” The finality to the commander’s voice let Mark know that he couldn’t argue his opposition any further.

Mark threw his head back and groaned. It’s something he needs to get used to: the press. They’ll be up in his business from the moment they’re pulled from the recovery vehicle. At first, the time he was going to be stuck at NASA undergoing medical tests post-landing made Mark just as anxious as anything else (who knows what happened to him all that time away that he can’t see). But now, it started feeling like it would be a small oasis, a buffer zone. Reporters and photographers wouldn’t be allowed inside during that time – so Mark hoped – and it would give him that much extra time to adjust.

“You know, I don’t even know who our president is right now.” Mark pointed out. The last election cycle occurred while he was on Mars. Not only that, but the majority of the campaign period. He has no idea who the major players were, what platform the candidates held. Following politics on Earth, let alone specifically the United States, was not something Mark bothered with during his interplanetary sabbatical.

“Well, this will be your chance to get to know our president then.” Lewis said as she coaxed Mark to the control center to do the broadcast. “They’re waiting.”

“What?! It’s happening now? You waited to tell me on purpose.”

“I sure did. Now, sit. It’s just audio, no video. Behave.” Lewis said with a stern point of her finger.

“What am I, a child?” Mark asked, only to receive a look from Lewis. “Don’t answer that.”

Johannsen managed the uplink between Hermes and Houston. Ensuring that the connection is established, strong, and secure. She sends confirmation back to Earth that they are ready to go, and a short while later, they get the return message.

“Hello Hermes crew, it is an honor to be speaking with you all today. I am especially looking forward to our chat, Mr. Watney.” The president started, “You’ve done an amazing thing, and we are all very proud down here on Earth for your accomplishments and how you’ve helped advance our understanding of space travel.”

Mark didn’t reply right away. “He makes it sound like I was supposed to be there on purpose.” Mark directed at the crew.

“What did you want him to say? Sorry you got stuck on Mars and fought for your life every day?” Beth asked, surprising Mark with her sarcasm.

“Yes.” He answered easily, “Yes, I would.”

Martinez joined at the threshold from the corridor. “Mark, thought you’d like to know something about our dear Mr. President first.” Before Mark had the chance to reply, Rick gave him details that he’d been missing before.

Armed with this new knowledge, Mark started his reply. “It’s nice to be talking to you, Mr. President, although it is Doctor Watney, thank you.” Despite never being picky about people using that title regardless of his PhD, he felt the need to needle the top executive power of his country. “I’m glad to be able to finally meet you. I have a question actually, one of my crewmates just informed me that while you were serving in Congress that you were in opposition to providing NASA with the emergency funds for my rescue. What do you have to say about that?”

Despite Lewis’ attempts, she shouldn’t be surprised that Mark went forward with this information. A long-suffering sigh escaped her lips, and she then glared at Martinez for informing Mark of the president’s position before the interview. “What? He deserved to know.” Rick defended himself, able to tell what the commander was thinking without having to ask.

“Actually, you know what it’s okay.” Mark continued before the receiving broadcast arrived. “I’ll do your little interview but just know that I don’t like you.”

“Mark!” Lewis exclaimed, exasperated.

When the message arrived on Earth, Annie Montrose groaned and unknowingly echoed the commander millions of miles away. “Mark!”

Chapter Text

Log Entry
Mission Day: 860

Today is the two-year anniversary of Sol 6, of me getting stranded. Give or take a couple hours. So much about that experience changed me, who I am. I hate coming to terms with that, accepting that I can’t go back to my life pre-Sol 6. I might look the same, well, mostly look the same. I’ve gained my muscle mass back, I don’t look quite like the skeleton pulled from the closet anymore. I’ll probably have to get a tooth or two replaced, given my dental hygiene suffered for over a year. I feel like I can’t see as well, something I haven’t told Beck about. It’s not unheard of, astronauts experience this strange thing where when they’re in space all the liquid in their eyeballs settles because there’s no gravitational forces upon them. Your eyes are essentially jelly filled balls in your skull, so that fluid in there does whatever it wants.

I know that I won’t get cleared to come back to space. Even if I could return to the peak of physical fitness before I departed Earth all those literal years ago, I don’t think the shrinks would clear me. Not that I want to come back but the idea of NEVER being allowed annoys me. Probably has something to do with being told no and not to do something. Not that I can defy orders and sneak into space. No way in hell you’d catch me on one of those commercial spacecrafts, NASA or bust.

There’s other changes from my time on Mars but ones I don’t like to think about. Ones that I don’t even know about. I’ve never felt more like I’m living in some liminal space. You know how the airport is a liminal space? How you just exist there to go somewhere else? How you don’t feel real while you’re lounging around on some of the most uncomfortable seats imaginable waiting to board a plane that flies 36,000 feet in the air and deposits you somewhere else?

(At least I hope other people feel like that).

That’s how I feel right now. I feel like I’m barely existing between two points in space. Literally. The Earth I left is not the Earth I am returning home to, and the Mars I arrived on was not the same one when I finally left. I don’t feel like a drifter or some vagabond. I feel like… I feel untethered. A barnacle torn from its substrate.

Okay, come on something cooler than a barnacle.

I feel like, uhm… like a really cool barnacle torn from its really cool substrate.

I just hope when we get back to Earth, only thirty-eight days now, that I don’t feel lost anymore.

Log Entry
Mission Day: 867

Only thirty-one days left on the ol’ paper chain (yes, I made one. I recycled old wrappers from our ration packs and there is tape on this ship). The exciting part about thirty-one days is it’s only one more month until we’ve arrived home. Today, we begin the month long de-acceleration so we can safely arrive in Earth’s atmosphere without just flying on by. At our speed right now we’d jetson past Earth and be headed towards Venus. I’ve seen enough planets for a lifetime, I’d rather just stay with the two.

We’ll incrementally restrict the reactor, thus slowing the engines. Like anything else we do, it has to be done correctly and on the correct schedule. Johannsen knows all that, being the reactor technologist. I’m sure Lewis knows as well, and Vogel, he’s in charge of making sure we’re on the right vector for Earth, constantly checking calculations against what NASA keeps sending for the smallest course corrections. I’m talking tiny, so small that you’d think we didn’t do anything. But with the speed we still have and the distance we need to go, those small corrections add up big in the end.

Sort of like a 401k and how every adult told me I needed to start one right away when I was in my twenties. Because it’s about the money you put in first, that’s what’s important and the interest over time lets you retire with oodles of money. It should be noted: retiring with oodles of money is much easier if you are currently making oodles of money and you’d be surprised at what the going hourly rate it is for an astronaut.

There was a ridiculous enquirer article ages ago, saying that I was suing NASA for Mars. Still hilarious. But you know I think I deserve some crazy hazards pay, that’s all I’m saying. Anyone reading this that controls that, HR or whomever, I’d like a lot of back pay and maybe a raise!

We’ll begin wrapping up our experiments, as well. There’s a lot of stuff that we have to do in this last month to be able to board the shuttle home. And I’m sure as hell not missing it this time. Ingress order be damned, I’m getting on that shuttle first.

Mission Day: 877

Three weeks separate the Ares III crew from Earth, an arrival time so tangible it feels impossible. Despite being closer to Earth, the required two hours of daily exercise remains. The scientists down at NASA insist that it needs to be done every day, skipping a day might not end in disaster but three weeks is a long time in microgravity for one’s muscles to acclimate to the reduced load.

Strapped into the treadmill, Mark jogged at an easy pace of four miles per hour, sustained over the last forty minutes he has twenty left to go of cardio before switching to strength training and then his cool down. Mark bumped up the speed into a light run, feeling better about himself than he has in a while. When he had first boarded Hermes, he couldn’t even support his own weight, let alone go for a light run for nearly an hour.

The speed increased again, Mark moved into a run for a few minutes before increasing still. Trying to see how fast he can push himself, if he can get back to a sprint. In training, he was never the fastest. Vogel outpaced them all by minutes, all that soccer growing up, he’d say. Lewis followed in second, with Johannsen behind her. Always impressed by her speed for a computer nerd. Finally, Mark ranked in front of Beck, with Martinez bringing up the end. His excuse was that he was built for endurance, not speed and had to keep his pace slower to sustain himself.

Panting, just at the edge of moving too fast, Mark decreased his speed to bring his pace back under control. As he does, something in his back twinged, constricted, making it feel as if his entire body locks up on him. He shouted as he lost his balance, the treadmill stopped as he tumbles backwards. The emergency stop that was connected around his waist yanked free and automatically turned the treadmill off.

Prone, Mark took several deep breaths to replace the air that was pushed from his lungs as he landed. The wind knocked from him quickly ignored, for the pain in his back. It radiated downward through his legs and towards his toes. Somehow felt as if it was coming through his chest and making his sternum ache.

“Mark?” It’s Martinez, in the Rec room, he’s the closest to their exercise space. “You, okay?” He asked, not yet descending the ladder.

Taking a deep breath feels impossible at the moment, as if expanding his lungs to capacity will irritate his back farther. “Yeah,” his voice heavily strained. “I’m okay.” A complete lie, being farthest from okay.

Martinez slid down the ladder and is at his friend’s side in an instant. Shaking off the not-so-distant memory of finding Mark on the floor when he was riddled with a high fever. “What happened? Can you move?” His hand hovered over Mark, not sure if he should touch him.

“My back.” Mark grimaced, the pain felt as intense as the first day after the initial injury. Although he doesn’t have access to the Vicodin or morphine like he did when on Mars. He’s not exactly sure he would want to take it, considering how he became dependent on it.

“Okay, stay there, I’ll go get Beck.”

Watney manages a shaky thumbs up, pleased to stay put.

The task of getting Mark off the floor and up the ladder was tricky but done with minimal pain. There were procedures in place on how to handle a potentially injured crewmate and how to move them through the ship. They did drills for the maneuvers for a week back on Earth and then again once on Hermes before they departed. They were the same ones used immediately after getting Mark aboard.

Mark, rested now on his cot, Beck gathered up his medical supplies. The best he could do pain management wise was some extra strength acetaminophen with ibuprofen. He had offered an opiate analgesic, but Mark declined, something Beck was silently happy about.

“How long did it take for you back to feel better last time?” Beck asked as he stays at Mark’s side.

“A week, and that included my nice hot baths.”

Beck made a face, “You took hot baths? How?”

Mark smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “Trade secrets, doctor. Mars exclusive.” He's not going to tell Beck about how he used the RTG to heat water.

“Well, considering we don’t have hot baths here, the best I can offer is a chemical heat pack as needed. And I’m going to have to restrict you to bed rest for at least a week. I can’t imagine reentry into Earth’s atmosphere would be fun with an injured back, so will try to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“I might go crazy having to stay in bed for a week, Beck.” Mark said honestly. Even with the constant work he had done on Mars there had been a surprising amount of downtime. It made him antsy, like his skin was crawling.

“I’m sorry, Mark, until we get you on Earth and you get an MRI, I can’t make any sort of diagnosis to the extent of damage done. I’ll be damned if I let you suffer any more than you already have.”

Mark opened his mouth for a second before closing it again. Something about calling his ordeal ‘suffering’ tripped some switch in his brain. Every day he got up and did what he had to do to survive. He never viewed it as suffering, it was surviving, and he wasn’t sure where the distinction between those two things were.

“Okay, I’ll rest for the next week.”

“Good, rest up, heal, and then we’ll be two weeks away from home. We’re almost there, Mark. You can do this.”