Chapter Text
Everyone was sneaking wayward glances at each other, eyes glancing across dark circles and worry lines, while simultaneously making the effort to not look at all. They each had a tell for when they thought nobody was around to catch them - Martinez took to rubbing his thumb and index finger along his eyebrows to rub away a stressor that couldn’t be undone; Beck idly pressed each of his fingernails into the palms of his hands, over and over as if to remind himself ‘you’re still here’ in the wake of ‘he is not’; Johanssen tugged at a strand of hair behind her ear as she ran operations with one hand. Lewis gazed blankly through windows and at walls as though there was something more to see, a different version, perhaps, of what might have been. But nobody looked, not really, because they were all coping in their own way and looking to really see was just a dagger in a wound that they knew was still raw.
On the sixth day WW (Without Watney), the Hermes creaked and groaned through space as it had for months before. Beth sat curled in her seat, wrapped in a NASA-emblazoned blanket as she ran diagnostics on the operating system. The machine beeped softly every time the program confirmed it was running properly, but her fingers never paused over the keys as she diligently worked though each check.
“Beth?” A voice said softly, rough with disuse. Chris stepped out of the dimmed doorway behind her. “What’re you up to?”
Beth let out a little sigh before finishing her sequence and swiveling her chair to face him. Her hands tucked up into the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she folded them under her arms, somehow giving off the impression of being smaller than she was before.
“Working some diagnostics,” she said, letting her eyes drift quickly over his face. Looking at people when you were talking to them was polite, but staring at their dark circles was not, and Beth didn’t quite feel like dredging up the reasoning behind them at this hour.
Chris had let his eyes flick over the rest of the room while she answered, but they came back to her face with a quick look of consternation at this. “Diagnostics?” He was unable keep the slight incredulity out of his voice. He might not be a programmer, but he knew that the ship was perfectly capable of maintaining its functions while they slept.
She rolled her eyes at this. “Oh, and you’re here to make sure all your patients-” she swept her hand, still shut inside the sleeve, around at the room, “are all alive and well, Doctor?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled good-naturedly, moving further into the room. As he turned away from her to sit in the opposing chair, she caught a glimpse of the mussed hair at the back of his head. He let out a groan as he tipped his chair back, considering her through heavy lids. His leg served as an anchor on the floor as he swiveled back and forth. She met his gaze levelly for a moment before turn in back to her screen, placing her hands on the keys.
They sat in silence as the computer beeped softly through a few more tests. “How’re your folks?”
The question was out of place enough that Beth actually stopped typing to shoot him a look. He shrugged and looked away, as if suddenly realizing how transparent he was being. “They’re good,” she said, looking back at the screen but not fully concentrating. “Mom said the squirrels are dropping acorns in the gutters again - on purpose, because it makes so much noise,” she smirked. “Could be worse.”
She had dropped the guise of diagnostics at this point, but was still looking at the screen. She knew what this was, and they both knew that it was easier to focus on inanimate objects rather than the look they knew would be in each others’ eyes - the look only worn by those who were suffering but also pretending they didn’t notice their own pain. Floating in a black hole of denial.
She felt, rather than saw, Chris smile at the squirrel’s antics. Becoming fond of mundane Earth Things was a symptom of long-term space travel. They sat again in silence, wanting to continue the conversation but not knowing how to around the gaping hole that followed them everywhere - how a hole could simultaneously carry weight was a mystery, but everyone’s chest took turns bearing the burden. Chris stood after a while, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sleep pants.
“See you in the morning,” he said, maybe a little softer than he meant to. Beth looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. “It technically is morning,” she pointed out, before acquiescing. “See you.” And just like that, the only noise left in the command room was that of technology and the patter of fingers on a keyboard.