Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Johanssen, can you hear me? I know you’re knocked out, probably hurts a fuckton on your end, but it’d be nice if you woke up.”

…

“Johanssen. I, uh, really mean it. It’d be nice if you woke up now.”

… 

“Johanssen, I’m not fucking around for once. I’d really appreciate you waking up so I know you’re okay.”

…

“Johanssen?”

…

“Johanssen?!”

…

“JOHANSSEN, WAKE UP!”

Johanssen, surprisingly enough, still slept for another second. It took her another second to slowly rise into consciousness as her mind registered the almost violently strong cry as normal. Two drawn out blinks turned out to be enough to wake her up. She slowly tilted her face towards the general direction of the voice she heard. 

As she felt her short brown hair swerve with her head, she took a squint towards the man sitting to her right, trying her hardest to not doze off. Her mind worked in what she felt was overdrive until she eventually pieced together the identity of the lightly tinted blue eyes gazing back at her.

“Morning, Watney. What was that for?”

“I… just wanted to wake you up,” he replied, still ever so slightly distraught.

“Was the yelling really necessary?”

“Kinda,” he replied, somewhat subdued. “You’re just a bit of a heavy sleeper.”

Despite her exhaustion, Johanssen registered everything as off. 

Watney woke her up. Not Commander Lewis or Martinez, both of whom were almost always the first ones up. Watney tended to wake up early reluctantly at best or outright refused like a smartass at worst, a saving grace for when Commander Lewis would graciously ignore her in order to address Watney’s loud morning mouth. She could scarcely think of why Watney would be the one to wake her up. 

Second, there was something in Watney’s expression that felt off kilter. For a man who was almost always cracking jokes, him being concerned was, quite frankly, really fucking bad. There had to be an issue.

She just wasn’t sure what the problem was.

Shortly thereafter, the sysop turned her attention to the steaming mug sitting in the botanist’s lap. She took a quick look, and yep, that was coffee. This was probably the morning, and hot coffee was sitting right there. Pretty nice. Alright, things might have hit the fan, but coffee was more important. Once she was a little more awake she could-

A dull pain in her upper right arm was a wonderful way to start the day. She had barely lifted it three inches before she felt the light ache within her bones. To her right, Watney sat there, looking ever so slightly concerned.

“Johanssen, that might be a bad idea. What the fuck are you even doing?”

“Don’t worry Watney,” she said while moving her arm forwards. “I’ll just grab that coffee from you, and then I’ll be- Gh!” she finished with a shriek.

With delicate maneuvering, Watney quickly put the mug down, and crouched to the sysop’s side. He tenderly grabbed the lower part of her right arm as she bit her lip. 

“So why don’t I guess how your thought process went? ‘Holy shit, my arm hurts! Instead of putting it back, why don’t I keep using it?’ ” 

Johanssen reluctantly let out a sigh.

“Fine, you dorky botanist. You were right and I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Definitely,” he said with a faint grin. “Want your arm back?”

“Yep. I want it back down.”

“Got it.” 

Once he let go, Johanssen brought her arm back down onto her bed, where it thankfully stopped hurting. She took another second to quickly pull her fingers out. They seemed relatively fine compared to her arm, which admittedly wasn’t saying much. Her main issue was that her right arm was broken, and probably her left as well, given how it felt compared to her right. When the hell did she manage to break both of her arms?

Once she was finally comfortable, she was pleasantly surprised with the mug of coffee right in front of her lips.

“Smart idea, huh?” Watney remarked.

“Definitely,” Johanssen said as she took a sip. And then another. She slowly settled into a healthy rhythm, and managed to make her way through the cup. 

As per usual, she took in the rush of caffeine and distantly admired the sharp flavors of the coffee. From personal experience, she knew the taste would grow tiring if she focused on it too hard. She slowly worked her way through the cup, all the while taking the occasional gaze at Watney, who was in fact sitting on the floor to the right of her. He patiently held the cup, and when she was finished, returned it to his lap when it was empty.

“So. Good morning,” he greeted, bringing his hands together. After Watney’s impromptu remark, silence hung over the pair. Johanssen slowly sat up in the bed, and she could practically feel her first question already lingering in the air.

“What happened? Why’s the commander not here?” On that note, she took a precursory glance across the Hab. “Or anyone, for that matter?” She felt just a hint of desperation building within her. 

“We got fucked,” Mark bluntly replied.

“Watney, could you please elaborate?”

“We’re both pretty much fucked. That’s all I’ve got.”

Johanssen felt the hairs on her neck flare up in worry.

“Mark. Please. Just tell me what happened, really. Can you take the jokes down a notch?” Mark was pretty taken aback at her sudden stance.

“Jeez, you’re really that worried about this, huh?”

“Honestly, the suspense is the worst part. Can you just tell me what happened?” she reiterated.

“Uh… sure. Guess this is a sort of ‘No Jokes’ day. Pretty hilarious NASA’s not around to boss us around, huh? Well, anyways, how much do you remember from last sol?”

“I… not that much actually. Can’t say I know why I forgot.” Watney reluctantly let out a snort.

“I can guess, but let’s see what you remember.”

“Alright. There was… the storm.” Johanssen attempted to recall what happened last sol, and somewhat succeeded. How the storm was stronger than anyone could have expected, that the abort call was given.

The abort call was given. Yet they were both in the Hab.

That was a pretty big issue.

“We were told to abort, and the two of us were paired,” Johanssen replied. “Wasn’t there also… something else? I think? I know that’s not specific, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Mark responded. “That ‘something else’ happened to be the MDV. The MDV’s parachute opened for some reason. I speculate it had something to do with the cowling ripping off.”

“Makes sense,” she responded, with lingering uncertainty from her previous thoughts. “The mission wasn’t designed for wind speeds of 175 kilometers per hour, so it seems reasonable that the cowling would fail. It wasn't designed to be that strong anyways.”

“So the thing was swinging everywhere, and we got the call to abort. The commander thought it would be fine to leave with the MDV moving around. Keyword there being ‘thought’.” His eyes narrowed just thinking about the MDV.

“Yeah. Then… Um… Sorry, I still don’t quite remember the rest.”

“Don’t sweat it. Through quite possibly the worst luck ever experienced since Apollo fucking 13, the MDV ended up slamming right into the fucking communications array,” he asserted, just a little livid. “After that, it changed direction and through really shitty luck happened to be flying towards the two of us.”

“At least the rest seems obvious. Then-”

Her pupils dilated as the sol came back to her.

The storm, looming over them, the dark red staining her whole vision. Her grip holding Watney’s arm as tightly as she could through her flight suit.

Beck’s scream as he saw the MDV collide with the communications array. The shock in his voice as he proclaimed it was flying towards her and Watney.

Her final memory, throwing her arms up in a last ditch effort to avoid a concussion while getting hit with the force of truck as the MDV slammed into her.

Watney, at the corner of her vision, impaled by a spike on the communications array.

… 

“Mars to Johanssen. I repeat, Mars to Johanssen. Do you remember now?” 

With that, Johanssen’s focus immediately darted back towards Watney.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” she cried with an ample amount of despair.

“You know, I’d ask if you’re okay, but given how fucked we are, I know that answer’s going to be a no.”

“Oh my God,” she retorted.

“Oh shit, right. Watney time,” Mark asserted as he leaned forwards, standing on his knees as he moved the mug away. “Johanssen, just listen to my voice. Look into my eyes. Stay with me. I understand you’re scared, but please, just stay with me.”

Johanssen did her best to focus on Watney, which admittedly wasn’t saying much. There were way too many priorities that just got absolutely uprooted in her head. The rest of the crew left them here, did they think she and Watney died? They must have, they wouldn’t have left the two of them to die without a MAV. Not to mention, what the hell could they even do to not die on a completely barren planet?

Watney’s hands, suddenly on her back, felt like the only lifeline she had.

“I know this is a lot to handle, but you’re not alone. I’m still here. I’m not leaving you. I’m here,” he carefully maneuvered in order to reduce the tension. “For now, just know I’m here for you.”

Over the course of the next minute, Johanssen did her best to pull herself back together. There were still a million things to take into account, and that wasn’t even mentioning thinking about everyone else, who must have thought she and Watney were dead. All of NASA, her parents, hell, even her siblings.

Beck was another matter entirely.

Regardless, Watney needed her here, and now. She pulled off NASA drills with ease, she could at least be there for the person in front of her. Leaning down into the botanist’s chest, she carefully listened to the gentle thrum of his heart. Almost sobbing while trying to breathe in close sync with the beat, she slowly stumbled back towards a more manageable state. She felt a little less like she was about to cry, and brought her breathing back down to a manageable rate. Her arm had drifted over behind Watney’s back, gripping him as well. Johanssen somewhat sheepishly prepared her response, still a little frightened.

“Thanks. I needed that,” she choked out.

“Don’t mention it. We’re fucked, and I think any sane person would be worried. I’m just proud you could stay with me and not freak out.” She halfheartedly snorted in response.

“Are you fine?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Mark said, brushing Johanssen’s hair. “I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

“Mm hm.” she mumbled.

“What, no quip to give me?” Mark jokingly inquired.

“Watney, uh, not now,” the sysop meekly replied. “I think I might need a bit of time.”

“Well then,” he broadly grinned, “Be glad I have enough good humor for the both of us.”

Johanssen dimly smiled back in response.

“Just to be sure, can you repeat that last part to me?” She cautiously stared back up at Watney’s face.

“If you say so,” Mark replied. “In a summary of the worst day of both of our lives, the MDV crashed into the communications array, and then started flying towards the two of us. It slammed into me, and I guess it also hit you on the way out.”

Johanssen, with a lingering question about what happened to Watney, gently reignited the conversation.

“You didn’t get stabbed, right?” She said just a little more strongly than her previous mumbles. “I thought I saw you getting stabbed by the communications array, but that couldn’t have happened.” Watney raised an eye at Johanssen in response.

“What makes you think I didn’t get stabbed?”

“If you were stabbed, your pressure seal would’ve failed and you would have suffocated. But you’re clearly not dead, so that’s just a misinterpretation, right?”

“Watch and weep Johanssen,” the botanist replied as he lifted up his shirt.

At first, she just looked at Watney’s midsection and saw his normal abs. But she then noticed the very blatantly colored spot smeared on his abdomen. It wasn’t that large, but the depth of the wound made her wince. It looked like someone tried to kabob him.

The hole in his body turned shades of dark crimson mixed with purple, with the arrangement of staples keeping the hole from ripping open completely. His abs were completely destroyed in the region. At the very least, the staples themselves seemed somewhat secure. Johanssen blinked to make sure she was seeing the wound correctly.

“Holy shit.”

“Yep, pretty fucking impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“You got shish-kabobed in a way I didn’t was humanly possible to survive. What happened to you?” she cautiously inquired.

“A very coincidental series of events,” Watney replied. “I managed to land face down when the communications array hit me, and I bled into the hole while on the ground. My suit did enough after that to maintain the pressure, once all of the blood dried.” Watney poked a little bit at the wound, wincing all the while. “Then I think I was knocked out, along with you.”

“Then how did you get us back into the Hab?”

“Oh, now we get into the really shitty part,” Watney retorted with a grimace. “The oxygen alarm woke me up, since, you know, a lot of the oxygen and nitrogen left through the stab hole. As you’d expect it to.”

“Watney, I understand how gases work and that blood is not a perfect sealant. What do you take me for?” she gently inquired.

“A slightly tired Johanssen. I know you don’t quite think quite as well when tired.”

“Touche,” she replied, just a little more firmly.

“Anyways, after the alarm woke me up, I made a mad dash back into the Hab. Where the only alternative was to do surgery on myself. Needless to say, it fucking sucked.”

“You alright?”

“I’m less dead, so that’s pretty good,” he said while brushing his wound. He stopped for only a moment to wince, and then continued. “Speaking of dead things, I went back out to get your body. Brushing over that fucking emotional rollercoaster, I ran you back in, pulled you out of your flight suit and got you on a bed, and that brings us here.” 

“How sweet of you,” she responded, mostly at a loss for words.

“Back to you for a moment,” Watney asserted, ”How are you not dead? You were hit with a solid ton of metal, and are somehow alive. At least my blow was just an antenna. Even if it was pretty fucking sharp,” he finished with a mutter. 

“I saw the MDV a split second before it hit me. I lifted my arms up in front of my helmet on reflex, and they took most of the force. Honestly, my head isn’t that sore, so I guess it worked.” Watney let out a sigh of relief.

“Honestly, I still think it’s sort of a miracle I’m not dead,” she muttered out loud.

“But you’re not, right?” Mark did his best to smile back at her.

“Still, it’s a pretty damn big miracle both of us are alive,” she continued wistfully. “I could’ve not noticed the MDV, you could’ve not landed with your seal down, hell, that’s not even mentioning the fact that we’re-”

“Greyhound puppies are adorable, aren’t they?” 

Johanssen, ever so slightly started, took a while to process what he just said.

“Mark, what are you talking about?”

“Johanssen, greyhound puppies are fucking adorable,” he arbitrarily repeated. For some reason, she noticed an odd hint of desperation in his eyes. “Aren’t they?”

“Eh, I guess?” she replied, confusion manifesting in her eyes.

“You know, if you were a dog, I think you’d make a fucking good greyhound puppy.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You’re a super eager worker, you run yourself ragged, and you even have the same color pattern,” he grinned. “Everyone knows how much you like your grey hoodie.”

Johanssen finally responded with a snort.

“Do you really think so? I think I’m a bit slow in the morning to be a greyhound.”

“I dunno, you could just be a lazy greyhound. You being super athletic and a couch potato sound pretty on point,” he remarked.

“I get where you’re coming from, but I still can’t help but be a little offended,” she said, nearly throwing up her broken arms in frustration.

“Oh little nerd Johanssen,” Mark said while patting her on the head. “Small and precious to the world.”

Johanssen went through an odd mixture of confusion and embarrassment before coming to one conclusion.

“You were distracting me, weren’t you?”

“Ding ding ding,” he remarked with open hands and stretched arms. “Glad to see your thinking power’s back.”

“Oh Watney, your methods are unconventional,” she replied with a light sigh.

“I already tried the conventional way, and you were sitting there freaking the fuck out,” he aggressively finger gunned. “What the fuck did you expect me to do?”

Johanssen took the moment to chuckle, finally feeling like a little more her normal self.

“Although seriously,” he continued, smiling with mirth. “There are a million things we have to think about and address, and freaking out over what happened is just going to distract us. We’ll get our plans together, and we’ll be fine. And don’t forget I won’t be leaving you any time soon.” 

Johanssen blushed lightly. God, she was sitting here freaking out, and Watney was there being a fucking Saint. Well, a Saint with swearing. Classic Watney. He did have a point, in that freaking out was just a waste of their time. There were both highly qualified astronauts, and there were few people who would be able to handle their situation better than them.

“Thanks. You’re a pretty damn good person to have right now.”

“What? Just because I have working arms?” he quipped.

“You know what I mean,” Johanssen responded with an eye roll. “But anyways, while you have those, you might as well use them. I’ll think of plans to survive over here, and you can go loot the Hab for anything we might need.”

“More work, after getting stabbed, doing surgery on myself, and dragging my unconscious friend back into the Hab. How wonderful. ”

“Sorry for not helping, but I’m not exactly in the state for it right now. In fact,” Johanssen paused for a nice dramatic effect, “I, um, guess you could say I’m dis-armed?”

Both astronauts took a moment to process what she just said.

Watney let out an unconscious laugh, which quickly blossomed into a metaphorical tidal wave. He knelt down again, laughing as hard as his lungs could handle while clutching his wound delicately. Johanssen decided to join in as well, and the choir of laughter quickly filled the Hab. It was, without a doubt, the most joyous noise either of them had made in a while.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Watney said in between breaths.

“Jesus Christ. What have you been smoking for those laughs Mark? You sound like a fucking hyena.” Johanssen retorted.

“Been smoking a solid piece of stab and a side of fucked,” the botanist replied, getting up once more. “Not gonna lie, that execution was brilliant. Really needed that pun.”

“Glad to hear it Watney,” she retorted. "I'm still pretty concerned, but I at least want to make you feel a little better. You're my friend, and there's no way in Hell that I'd change my mind about that."

"You're my friend too Johanssen," he said while standing back up. "You can take the super important job of watching the coffee mug here, and I'll go bumble around for something useful while we both think. Two heads are better than one, right?"

“Like you said, I won’t be leaving you anytime soon," she said, flashing a smile at Watney. "Let’s get to work.”

Chapter Text

“You ready now Johanssen?” Watney asked, eager to hear her ideas. After leaving no stone unturned in the Hab, which wasn’t saying much given how small it was, he was just a little tired of rummaging around. It was time to work, time to think! Hell, he even had one of the smartest people he knew to help.

“I think so”, she carefully paused, “But I just want you to repeat some stuff.”

“Like what?” he asked. “You need more moral reassurance?” he only half joked.

“No, I was talking about the other stuff. Just to confirm, you woke up earlier, ran back into the Hab, did surgery on yourself , and then went back outside just to drag my sorry ass back in,” she suggested, looking up with just a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “I was sort of freaking out, so I just want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much everything. Pretty shitty day, if I do say so myself.”

Mark sat there, at the impromptu meeting spot next to the bed Johanssen was on. But the Hab floor was pretty fucking rough on his ass, so he definitely wasn’t planning on making this a normal thing. I mean, unless he left a pillow here. Sitting on a pillow would be better.

“Well with a bit of luck,” Johanssen retorted with a subtle amount of confidence, “we’ll be able to start making it better. I’ve got a couple ideas, but you can go first.”

“Alright,” Watney replied, utilizing his natural confidence. “I think I’ve grouped out problems into three major categories, and I might have a solution to one. First, if something breaks, we’re fucked. The oxygenator fails, the atmospheric regulator fails, basically anything fails, we’re fucked. It would not take much to kill both of us,” he exasperated. Johanssen went silent.

“Yep,” she said, her voice about as neutral as she could make it. “Still, I have faith you’ll be able to fix most of whatever might go wrong.” 

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “My self esteem isn’t made of glass. If you’re not sure I can jury rig whatever we’d need, just say it.”

“Nah,” she asserted, just a little more boldly and positively. “You’re the best engineer in all of NASA, and that’s not just flattery. There’s a reason you were picked to be on the mission. We even have your favorite tool,” she said with an approximation of his own grin, “Ridiculous amounts of duct tape.”

Watney looked down, taking a moment to think. If there was something to really take note of, it was that Johanssen was doing a hell of a lot better. He was honestly pretty fucking proud of how well she could recover after her own breakdown. That was barely even an hour ago!

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” he happily noted. “Second order of business is that NASA needs to come and rescue us, and we don’t have any communications.”

“I thought about that a little, and think I have some ideas.”

“Well then, why don’t you-  Wait, what are you doing Johanssen?”

“I’m just getting out of the bed,” she said, standing up from the left side. She experimentally clenched her hands into fists, visible wincing a little, before turning around and facing Watney. “Just because my arms are broken doesn’t mean my legs are broken. I’ll be careful, and if my arms are too bad, I’ll just lie down again.” Immediately, Watney opened his mouth to speak. Common sense was telling him to get Johanssen to back off.

“Johanssen, what happens if you trip? Not like you can put your arms out in front of you without fucking them up even more.”

“Watney. We’re in 0.4 g gravity. Tripping isn’t exactly dangerous.” Watney thought about the point quietly, unconsciously starting to get up. “I was also planning on staying near you, so you can help me if I do end up tripping.”

“If you trip, trust me when I say you’ll be sorry,” Mark jokingly threatened while standing straight, walking around the bed to get closer to the sysop. “I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll make your bed rest involve duct tape.”

“Don’t worry,” Johanssen replied, shaking her head to clear the rogue strands of hair out of her vision, “I’ll be fine. Back to my point, I’m almost certain NASA thinks the two of us are dead. We were both hit by large amounts of debris, and there’s no way they would have stranded us without a MAV intentionally.”

“Actually,” Watney amended, carefully recalling an important piece of information. “You should probably also know the electronics in both of our flight suits were damaged.” She immediately looked a little confused.

“Wait, both?” she inquired. “They were made to survive multiple Gs of force, and you’re saying that they broke?”

“Yep,” Watney snorted. “I saw mine was completely offline when I woke up earlier today, and yours was busted as well when I pulled you out. You can check the suits for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I guess that another reason NASA would think we’re dead,” she continued, just a little set back. “We eventually have to get back into contact for them. Whether it’s so they can send us some supplies or redirect Ares 4, we just need their help.”

“How the fuck are we going to get their attention?” he asked. He knew the rovers had some transmitters, but they were shit. Seriously. Then again, communicating with another planet tended to be just a little difficult. If he really wanted to, he could have thrown his own satellite dish together, but it wouldn’t have even been close to what they needed.

“I know the Hab and the rovers don’t really have strong signals, but what about the MDV?”

“The MDV? You mean the hunk of metal that floored both of us?”

“During descent, we were still in contact with the Hermes, and Earth by proxy,” she established, staring him in the eye. “If we put power back into it, assuming the transmission hardware didn’t break when it slammed into us, would we be able to contact a satellite?”

“That’s… not a bad idea in theory,” Watney mused out loud, “but I’m almost certain it wouldn’t work. The Hermes had the largest communications dish near Mars by a fucking landslide, and it would’ve left Martian orbit by now. I don’t have the exact numbers on hand, but I think we’d need something like an extra magnitude of power in order to even attempt talking with a satellite. And that’s not even considering the fact that NASA’s not going to point an antenna at what they think is a bunch of dead astronauts.”

“An extra magnitude?”

“Yep. You heard me right. 10 times the power at a bare minimum.” He was impressed with her thought process, as per usual, but it was still just a little rough around the edges.

“Ouch,” Johanssen replied with a wince. “Do you think it’s even worth trying?”

“While we could, I don’t think we should. Anyways, my plan’s going to need a lot of time, and it’s pretty fucking important. We can’t really fuck around with the MDV now.”

“Fair arguments, but that brings me to my next point”, she smirked, peaking in confidence. “I think NASA’s going to take pictures of the Hab in a few days.” 

Watney blankly stared at Johanssen, before exclaiming his confusion.

“What!?”

“NASA’s going to take pictures of the Hab in a few days. I’m almost certain of it.”

“Why would they? Assuming we died, which we just established, NASA would think they’d just see our dead corpses. That’s just going to be a PR clusterfuck.”

“I think you’re forgetting something important there Mark.” Johanssen paused momentarily, dialing back her confidence. “We should’ve left on Sol 6, and, barring us, that leaves a solid fifty days of rations here. Along with everything needed for an Ares mission. If NASA wanted to, this would be the best way to pull off Ares 6. They’re going to jump on this opportunity.”

“God. Johanssen, the PR department would have a fucking stroke.” By the PR department, he definitely meant Annie Montrose in particular.

“Don’t you like giving the PR department strokes?” She turned up, looking just a little concerned.

“There’s a pretty big fucking different between swearing a bit in a video versus taking pictures of dead corpses.” NASA didn’t even like the first one. He had personal experience from many, many warnings back during the filming of the Ares Live videos.

“I don’t know,” Johanssen replied while unconsciously shaking her head. “This seems like a pretty big opportunity for NASA to cash in on, and for a whole mission, I think it’s worth it.”

“Look Beth. I’m just saying you might be underestimating how much people would hate seeing our corpses,” Mark responded, left hand in the air. “You can ignore every social stigma known to man and then some, but I doubt everyone else would be fine with seeing our dead bodies.”

“I understand if you don’t like my reasoning, but it’s the best thing we’ve got, she responded with a tiny hint of worry. “You’ve said we can’t contact NASA with what we have, so we’ll just have to hope that they’ll come and spy on us. I’ve at least brought up some reasons that they would try to find us.”

Watney went silent for a moment. Banking on a Hail Mary was pretty fucking risky if he did say so himself, but everything about their current situation was going to need a Hail Mary. Hell, and while he did know a little bit about how the PR department worked, he knew fuck all about how the big wigs would deal with it. So yeah, they were basically betting.

“God fucking damnit.”

“I take that as you begrudgingly accepting my reasoning?”

“Wait,” Watney replied, mildly confused. “Did I say that last part out loud?”

“Yes,” Johanssen nonchalantly replied. “Look, I don’t like betting on NASA finding us either, but we don’t have another option. Really.” She unconsciously furrowed her brows on the last word. “You did say we’d need an extra magnitude of transmission power.”

“We should probably leave them a message, shouldn’t we?”

“Way ahead of you Watney. We can spell out ‘We’re alive’ in rocks, and then NASA will notice us when they do come around. As long as the letters are neat enough, we’ll be fine.”

“At least we can do that part,” Watney muttered. Johanssen hummed in approval.

“Which brings us to the final point, and I actually know how to address it.” Watney replied with a brightening grin.

“What’s the point?” she asked.

“Even if NASA figures out we’re alive, we’re both going to starve. No matter how much we ration or lean on your ridiculous eating habits, we can’t survive until we can get more food.”

“So Mr. Plant Whisperer, what’s your master plan?”

“Exactly what you implied,” he said with a grin.

As Johanssen stood there just a little confused, Watney took the opportunity to quickly get behind her in order to grab her by the waist with his right arm.

“Watney, what are you-”

“Go with it Johanssen. I have science to show you!”

He dragged her away. Johanssen started walking with him mostly out of a desire not to fall flat on her face.

The pair, but more so Watney given he was directly influencing their movement, came to a stop at a conspicuously placed white container in the middle of the Hab, with the word ‘Thanksgiving’ boldly labeled on it.

“Behold,” Mark proudly exclaimed, “My future greatest creation!”

“The Thanksgiving supplies? What are we going to do, stretch out the turkey for four years?” she asked, only then turning up to his face. “Not to mention, did you move this box here just to make this more dramatic?”

“Nope!” he said, strategically avoiding the last part of her question by answering her second. “Not even close. For how fucking smart you are, you’re kind of being a bit dumb right now.” Before Beth could mount a protest, Mark quickly ripped the lid off of the box, dramatically casting it aside. Maneuvering his hand around the turkey, he quickly found the object of his interest, rapidly pulled it out, and smiled as if he had struck gold.

“Johanssen, meet the thing that’s going to save our sorry asses,” he smugly stated. He also lowered his hand down a little. She was pretty short. He then began his countdown to her realization of what he was going to do. Five.

“I… A potato? How is one potato going to keep us from starving?” she asked. Four. Three.

“For some pretty obvious fucking reasons,” he retorted. Two.

“It’s not like-”

One.

Johanssen froze. Her solid brown eyes stopped in their tracks, her mouth pausing mid-sentence. Hell, he could fucking hear the gears in her head spinning, coming to the conclusion he knew the would. Eventually, the gears slowed, and Johanssen finally finished thinking. Suddenly taken aback, she immediately began her new thought.

“Wait. Are you seriously thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Pretty fucking sure,” Watney said, carefully running his hand across the potato in his arms. “NASA sent us twelve live potatoes to work with. Why they weren’t freeze dried, I have no fucking clue. But this is where I come in.”

“You’re saying you want to grow potatoes, on a planet famous for being completely devoid of plant life.”

“Pretty much.”

For one glorious moment, Mark felt like he was the top of the fucking world. Fuck you and your judgement Martinez! He might have been a botanist sent to a barren planet, but that didn’t mean he was useless! During an even more glorious moment, Johanssen began to giggle. He unconsciously pulled an arm around her waist, taking in the wonderful white noise. Her giggling evolved into laughing, and then he threw his other arm around her, ready to hoist her into the air if both of her knees buckled too much. He took in her laughing with pride. Over one very worth it minute, even if dragging the Thanksgiving supplies out with a stab wound sucked, he gladly enjoyed Johanssen’s laughter, and waited for her to stop to conclude his thoughts.

“Like the surprise?”

“Oh, fuck you Mark,” she said without any anger. “You and your attempts to surprise me.”

“Not my fault that surprising you always has such a wonderful payoff,” he said, letting go of her.

“Of course,” Johannsen replied while turning and staring Watney in the eye. “We need someone to grow plants and make sure nothing breaks, and it just so happens we have the perfect someone for the job.” She even put on a bright grin for him. “I have faith in you.”

Mark blushed ever so slightly. Johanssen deftly picked up on said blush even if he wished she didn’t.

“You alright?”

“Sorry, just not used to you complimenting like. You’re mostly the sit back and nod type.” Really, that summarized 90 percent of her social interactions.

“Eh, you look like you need it. Not everyday you try to do something that has literally never been done before.” Johannsen brought her right hand up to her chest, only wincing momentarily. “I believe in you, just remember that. Anyways, now that sappy hour has passed, what’s your big plan?”

“We need a few things in order to get planting soil, so we’ll have to start on that. We’ll take the soil I have from my experiments and mix that with some Martian dirt and a healthy helping of shit for fertilizer.” Mark only stopped to wince at the last part.

“You worried about diseases between the two of us?” she asked. 

“Nah,” Watney replied gently. “We’ll just have to deal with that. We’ve already lived on the Hermes together for a few months, so I think we’ll be fine.” Mark put up his wince again. “I mostly just don’t want to have to live next to a bunch a shit and haul metric tons of dirt in.” Johanssen let out a sharp bark of laughter in response. Yes, his reasoning was petty and probably not what he should be focusing on, but living in a Hab full of shit was going to stink!

“I don’t want to move metric tons of dirt either, but it’ll beat dying,” she responded, still smiling.

“That’s sort of the point, Johanssen.”

“We should probably start today. Every sol will count in starting the farm, so we really shouldn’t mess around.” Watney took a step back at her bold proclamation. She couldn’t be fucking serious.

“Hold on a fucking second,” he asserted, bringing both of his hands up. “You really want us to work right now? I was just stabbed yesterday and you can barely raise your arms! Do you really expect us to move a useful amount of work?” She had to be joking.

“Look, it might suck a little now, but it’ll pay off when we have food later.”

“One major flaw in that plan Beth,” Mark responded as he gestured towards his stab wound. “Both of us need time to heal. I’m no doctor, but I’m fairly sure the parts of me that were nearly stabbed are pretty fucking important.” Fuck, and that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Beck would almost certainly be giving her far more shit about trying to work today than he was.

“On the other hand…”

“Not to mention, you can’t even fully lift your own arms! Even if we were working with feathers, could you do anything?” Johanssen could only stare back in silence at Watney in response, before reluctantly sighing.

“Fine,” she relented, shoulders slouching. “But really, we should start soon. How’s tomorrow sound?”

“To be honest, pretty fucking shitty,” he bluntly replied. “But this does have to be done.”

Thank fucking God she backed down. He had personal experience that she could occasionally be ridiculously fucking stubborn on the least healthy issues possible. The fact that she occasionally pulled all nighters on the fucking Hermes of all places was a testament to that. He was really fucking glad she’d chill for a bit. He could open up his personal drive, and the two of them could watch some Doctor Who. Although, something about that thought felt like he was missing something, but what was there to miss? All that plan needed was his personal drive.

His personal drive. Which he left on the Hermes on accident and was now going back to Earth.

Fuck.

“Johanssen, please tell me you have a decent personal drive,” Mark pleaded. Johanssen looked up in response. “I left mine on the Hermes, and to be honest, that might be the worst part of this.” Johanssen sharply exhaled through her nose at his response.

“Holy fuck Mark, I almost forgot that,” she replied, visibly holding back laughter. “You fucking klutz.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, taking that last part just a little personally. “It was a minor error. Barely mission relevant, up until yesterday.”

“A whole lot of shit was barely relevant until yesterday,” the sysop responded. She also leaned her head towards the Thanksgiving box. “Need I remind you about the potatoes?”

“I’ll even take whatever nerd shit you have. Techno remixes, heavy rock, I’ll be fine with it.” Johanssen gaped at Watney in response, pausing momentarily.

“When have I ever pulled out either of those genres?”

“I dunno, seems like something you’d like.”

“Well spoiler alert Watney, I don’t have them. I don’t even have any good shows.”

“Shit.”

“Well, we have the next best thing,” she said, turning towards where Beck left his computer. “I think Beck’s drive should have something decent in it.”

“We haven’t even been stranded for a whole day, and you’re already raiding the poor doctor’s personal stuff. When are you raiding his underwear drawer?”

“Laugh now Watney, but when you run out of clean clothes, we might have to do just that.” 

“Fuck, you’re right,” he said as he remembered that clothes did indeed get dirty.

“You can mope over there, and I’ll get something pulled up over here,” she said as she pulled open Beck’s laptop.

“Nah,” he said, turning towards her. “If I’m moping, I’m moping next to you.”

“Well, mope a respectable distance away. I have a bit of searching to do.”

“Of course. Let me know when you find anything good.”

“Will do.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 8

The Martian day rose with its usual butterscotch sky brightening as the sun rose over the horizon. The sun illuminated the solar cells, which dutily did their best to collect power while under a fine layer of light red sand. The remnants of the MAV stood erect, but empty, a reminder of the unfortunate incident of Sol 6. At a distance, the fallen MDV lay on the ground, with its parachute sprawled out next to it. Two figures trekked towards the MDV, with the slightly taller one carrying a large strut wedged in between his arms and the smaller one slowly carrying a toolbox in her right hand.

“Do you really want to help me out?”

“Of course I do,” Johanssen replied, giving her arms a gentle shake. Yep, they still hurt, but she could at least help with a few errands.

“I wouldn’t mind doing all of this by myself,” Watney remarked.

“Well then you’ll mind even less when I’m here.”

“You’ve already done plenty of work with getting the message up in rocks, and don’t think I didn’t hear you complaining while doing that,” he retorted. “Hell, you barely even moved five rocks and you still struggled with that!”

“Honestly, my arms are kind of numb at this point,” Johanssen nonchalantly replied. “I think it’s a combination of the mediation sinking in and the work.”

“Do you really think that’s a good way to be working?” he exasperated, Johanssen’s suit speakers struggling only a little with the extra emotion in his voice.

“Eh, at least I can work.”

Johanssen could have sworn that she heard Watney’s scream silently, even if it didn’t transmit. Hey, she was fine. Seriously.

“Well, don’t come crying to me if you find your arms have mysteriously fallen off,” he quipped.

“Duly noted.” She’d obviously stop way before her arms were that badly mangled. What did he take her for?

By that point the duo had reached the MDV. As Watney set down his landing strut, he quickly sauntered over to Johanssen’s side, fumbling through the toolbox she momentarily raised up in order to get the right drill bit. He then grabbed the drill with his other hand, trying to pull the assembly together through his thick NASA gloves.

“Okay, that look’s good,” he declared, giving the drill a quick pulse. Johanssen duly noted that seeing the drill spin without noise looked pretty weird. She understood that the lack of atmosphere on Mars would prevent it from making any noise, but it was still odd.

“You ready to start drilling Mark?” Johanssen said, smirk encoded into her voice.

“It’s times like these that I wish we had constant recorders in our suits,” Mark replied while lining up the drill with a screw on the MDV. “Leak that to the media, and everyone will go fucking ballistic.”

“Well, are you ready?” she repeated.

“Moment of truth,” he replied, gripping down on the trigger.

The drill flared to life, spinning violently while Watney kept it steady. The screw rapidly spun, fell off unceremoniously, and Watney stopped drilling. 

“You want to save the screw Watney?” she asked, bending down. “If we leave it, it’s not like we’ll find it again under the dust.”

“Just drop it in the tool box,” he replied. She quickly did so, grateful that her arms were getting a little more numb. 

He then moved to another hole, and repeated the process again. After another two drill uses, Mark carefully pressed his body against the curved metal plate from the MDV. Slowly turning, he pushed gently, lowering the plate into his hands.

“I know I’ve said this before,” Watney said with appreciation while balancing the plate, “But you’re a fucking genius.”

“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t work as much with our wounds?”

“I know, but this is fucking amazing,” he said as he sauntered the plate over to the strut he carried over. “Making a giant shovel from rocket parts and duct tape, who would have guessed?”

“Apparently not you,” she smugly retorted. I mean, it was literally as simple as finding a large stick and a plate.

“I’ll be applying ten layers of duct tape to this ‘shovel’,” he spoke as he briskly dropped the plate. He then walked back to the toolbox to get the duct tape. “Then we’ll have a massive plate duct taped to a massive strut from the MDV, which we’ll use on a metric fuckton of dirt.” He almost certainly grinned, and she wished she could have seen his grin. “After I dig enough, I’ll get the containers we brought out, and then load the dirt into those in order to bring it back into the Hab.”

“You think that’ll be enough?”

“Oh, it’s duct tape,” Watney asserted, the engineer in him standing out. “Of course it’ll be strong enough. In the meantime, if you really want to work, go brush off the solar panels. We already brought all of the dried shit in, but that still has to be done.”

“You know, the fact that we’re using shit for fertilizer is really sinking in,” Johanssen said with a grimace.

“Yep. Shit stinks, but it’s all we’ve got,” he replied while bending down with the duct tape in his hands. “By the way, in order to start, you’ll have to get there. So, you know, try moving.”

“Fine Captain Smartass,” she said as she rotated and bounded towards the solar cells.

Once she arrived at the cells, she stopped in front of the nearest one, taking the time to dust it off as well as she could. The EVA suits did tend to carry a coat of dust on them, so ‘as well as she could’ wasn’t amazing. 

She opted to first work her way through the array working counterclockwise. Admittedly, she couldn’t really work all that quickly. Her arms were still pretty sore, and even with painkillers and the numbness, they were still easily agitated. Johanssen had to stop twice in the middle of cleaning just the first panel due to the sheer amount of pain she felt.

“You okay Johanssen?” Watney’s voice carried through her suit’s communications systems. “You’re taking a while just to clean that one panel.”

“No worries Watney,” she confidently replied. “I’m making progress. It’ll just be a little slow.”

 Walking to her right, she quickly stopped to bend down and dust off a second panel while carefully thinking about how to dust them all off. She could just spiral her way inwards, but the rectangular shape of the panels would have made spiraling not very optimal. She could go back and forth through the rows, but that would have involved a lot of backtracking. She also noted that Watney said something, and she duly went along with it. Okay, she didn’t actually hear what he said, but she was busy. She’d just ask him again later. 

While brushing, Johanssen thought there must have been a better way to clean all of these solar panels. Hell, it’d be even beneficial. The two of them would have to ration the CO2 filters, so making sure it’d be easy to clean the solar panels was a good thing. She also noted Watney was talking a little more, probably just making a few more quips. She’d ask if she missed anything important later.

Her first thought was to just store some of them so they wouldn’t have to be cleaned. With only a fraction of the crew left, the life support only needed a fraction of the power it normally used. While she thought the fraction would be around one third, it’d probably be good to check that. Getting that wrong would mean dying after all. Anyways, it would be less work overall. Probably. Actually, that might not work. She didn’t really have any idea about how much dust ended up on the panels, and exactly how much power was-

“Johanssen, you done?” Watney chirped through her suit’s communications.

“Wait, what?” Johanssen took a step back to figure out where she was, and was surprised to find out that she was in front of the last panel, which was already cleaned.

“Uh, yes?”

“Let me guess, did you start overthinking how to clean the panels, only to finish while you were doing said overthinking?” The snark in his voice was as clear as ever.

“I wasn’t overthinking, I was just figuring out the best way to efficiently clean the panels. I even thought about some other good points,” she somewhat grumpily replied.

“And in the meantime, you happened to finish without needing any of your convoluted plans,” Watney said with what Johanssen was almost certain was an eye roll on his end. “Then again, you overthink almost everything.” 

“I do not!” she asserted.

“Didn’t you spend a solid half an hour earlier just trying to figure out how to dig?” Johanssen scoffed in response.

“It’s not over thinking if we needed it. I bet that shovel made your work nice and easy, didn’t it?”

“Hey, I’m not saying you over thinking is a bad thing,” Watney defended. “I’m just saying you do it a lot.”

“Anyways, how did the digging go? “

“Reminded me of shoveling snow off of a driveway back in Chicago,” he cheerfully replied. “I already told you I went back in, but you didn’t listen, did you?”

“Um… ” she replied. Yeah, she was sort of backed into a corner.

“I expected you didn’t,” he retorted over the comms from inside the Hab. “Anyways, I’ve been inside mixing all of this wonderful dirt together. Like we established, I’ve got 5 square meters in here, and we’ll get more tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, it does smell like shit in here. I’d suggest bracing for the smell.”

“Jeez, I was out for that long?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Mark said with some reassurance. “Your arms have been pretty broken for a while, so I’m not expecting you to be working at full power. You shouldn’t expect yourself to either. Anyways, why don’t you come back in?”

“Eh, sure,” Johanssen replied as she turned to skip back towards Airlock One.

At the airlock, she quickly hopped in and hit the start button for cycling. Waiting a minute for the procedure to finish, she leaned on the wall, and then immediately stopped when she realized it still left some pain on whichever arm she leaned on. At the end of the process, standing straight once more, she quickly pulled off her EVA suit, eager to see what Watney had done.

She wasn’t quite as happy when she smelled what Watney had done.

“Mark, what the fuck have you been brewing!?” she exclaimed, doing her best to quickly pull off the rest of her EVA suit.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be complaining,” he retorted, hands drenched in a murky brown. “Half of this smell is from you!”

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes and strolled towards him. “My shit can’t be that bad.”

“Actually, let’s just end the conversation here,” Mark asserted while mixing the brown muddy mixture on the floor. “If we’re going to be stuck here together, I’d rather not constantly remind you that your shit stinks.”

“Duly noted,” Johanssen spoke as she carefully walked around the dirt on the floor. “So this is the new soil?”

“It will be the new soil in a few days,” Mark replied as he pulled his hands off the floor, his fingers still caked in what Johanssen preferred to call mud. “I added in the Earth soil and shit, and we’ll need to give the bacteria time to infect it all, because we need it for good potato growth.”

“Nice,” Johanssen replied with a smile.

“Yep, this is pretty fucking amazing,” Watney reiterated with a matching smile. “Mars will come to fear my botany powers.”

Johanssen took another look at the floor, still doing her best to ignore the smell. There had to be some sort of air freshener they could whip up with the chemical supplies. Watney had isolated a corner of the Hab, and sprawled out the mixture over said corner more or less haphazardly. The texture of the wet dirt thankfully didn’t resemble shit all that much.

Wait a minute.

“Uh Watney,” she began with some concern. “I might have found a minor issue with your plan.”

“Go for it,” he replied with all of his confidence.

“So, as a botanist, you understand these plants need water, right?”

“What type of moron do you take me for!?”

“So,” she said, eying up the soil, “Do we have enough water for all of this soil?”

As she turned back to Watney, he quickly opened his mouth before freezing. His eyes grew unsure for a few seconds, and he closed his mouth, musing silently. He eventually came to one conclusion.

“Motherfucker.”

Johanssen sharply took in a breath of air in response.

“This is pretty bad, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Watney replied. “Rationing what we need for the two of us, we can grow maybe 50 square meters of potatoes. Barely even half of the Hab.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough for us to not starve?” Watney took in a similar sharp gust of air.

“Fucking doubt it.”

The duo turned to look at each other, both looking concerned. Johanssen’s firm brown eyes rose to stare directly into Watney’s dull blue eyes. The concern in his eyes was notable, and she was certain hers was as well.

Johanssen quickly strengthened her stance, sliding the issue aside. She fell apart yesterday, and Watney helped her. It was time for her to return the favor.

“Mark, how long will it be until we need more water?”

“I think we’ll be doubling dirt about every seven sols,” he retorted, weakly bringing back his normal mood. “We’ll need it by the fourth doubling, so about twenty eight sols, maybe less if the bacteria reproduce quickly enough.”

“Okay. We have three weeks and a bunch of equipment leftover from the mission. All we need to do is make a bunch of water. Should be doable.”

“You know,” Watney interjected, smile reluctantly returning, “I used to play Dungeons and Dragons as a cleric.”

“Wait, what!?” Johanssen exclaimed. “And you call me a nerd!?”

“Johanssen, you’re a sysop with some ridiculous math skills,” Mark asserted, “Of course you’re the bigger nerd.” 

Bullshit. She nearly rolled her eyes.

“Anyways,” he resumed. “I thought the stupidest spell was “Create Water”. Boy, wouldn’t that be a nice spell to have?”

“We have something better than magic,” Johanssen replied, gesturing to the ChemCam over near a wall of the Hab. “We have science, and we’re both pretty good at it. We’ll just make some water with that.” Watney chuckled light heartedly in response. 

“Glad to see you’re doing fine. Anyways, I think we could mix the dirt a little more. Want to help me?” Johanssen subtly took a step back.

“Oh. Um, sorry, but I sort of have broken arms,” she sheepishly replied, taking another step back. “Guess you’ll have to do all of the work.”

“C’mon Johanssen, it’ll be just like usual! I’ll teach you some cool science stuff and you’ll follow me.”

“All you want is someone to help you mix up all of this shit.” It was pretty fucking obvious.

“Well, what can I say?” he replied with a shit-eating grin. “Misery enjoys company.”

“Suck it Misery,” Johanssen retorted as she leaned back to sit down on the nearest bed. “You’ll be doing this on your own.” Watney let out a reluctant sigh.

“If you didn’t have broken arms, I’d chase you down right now.”

“Unfortunately for both of us I do,” she said with a grin. “Guess we have to work around it huh?”

“Well you should also be grateful my stab hole is fine,” he muttered, beginning to mix the dirt more. “If it was leaking, I’d drag your sorry ass over here too.”

“Win some, lose some Watney,” she replied as she grabbed her laptop. “I’ll play some music over here while trying to get the water issue sorted, and you can do your messy botanist work over in your botanist corner.”

“Should be nice,” he said. “I’ve always wondered what kind of music you like.”

She doubted he would’ve ever seen this coming. In general, the crew didn’t really listen to music together. NASA made quite a few regulations against it as they thought it would be distracting. So she never really showed off her taste in music to the rest of the crew. Clicking into the file of her choice, she momentarily wondered how much Watney would like it.

“In the town where I was born,” her computer sang. “Lived a man who sailed to sea.” Watney raised his head, confused.

“Is that the fucking Beatles?” he asked, moderately confused. She blushed a little in response while the song played. “Is that the only Beatles song, or do you have all of them?”

“Um… ” she began. “Yeah, I do have all of them.” Watney looked at her, clearly taking a moment to get his thoughts together.

“Can’t say I’d have taken you for a Beatles person.”

“What can I say?” She would have shrugged, but she figured minimizing the use of her arms was a good idea.

“Could have been worse. Imagine if you liked polka.” He snorted. “Hell, imagine if you only brought disco!”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch Watney,” she warned. “You saw how the commander banged her head to disco that one time.” He snorted.

“Oh come on,” he asserted. “She can’t have only disco on her personal drive.”

“You never know,” she sagely replied. “I’ll keep music playing over here, and you can do your botanist science over there. If you have time, you should probably go digging again.” Watney groaned at the mere suggestion of that.

“For fuck’s sake Johanssen…” he complained.

“You know we’re not even a quarter of the way done with the digging, and again, my arms are broken. It’d be quite a bit of an issue if we somehow made more water, and then didn’t have enough dirt to work with.” 

“Motherfucker,” he responded. “I’ll do it if I’m not tired after this.” Admittedly, Johanssen felt very sorry for Watney, but her arms really were holding the two of them back. Hopefully they’d get better quickly. She at least hoped that he was getting desensitised to the smell, if only for Mark’s sake. It was, truly and utterly, a shitty job.

Chapter Text

SOL 10

“Okay Mark, before you tell me how insane my plan is, just keep an open mind.”

“And on that note, I really do not like where this is going,” he claimed as he suspiciously gazed at Johanssen.

Both of them were perched on one chair each, facing each other in ever so slightly disheveled clothes. Neither of them were all that picky about appearance, so an informal rule that messiness wasn’t an issue was honored. Johanssen, with her slightly healed arms, gazed at Watney with a sheepish smile. Watney was pretty fucking impressed that she figured out how to make water. Her disclaimer was kind of a red flag, but how bad could it be?

“So yesterday, we established that we can use MAV’s fuel plant in order to collect some CO2,” she stated. “Since we also restarted it yesterday, today we can use the oxygenator on that CO2 to make some oxygen.”

“Yep. That bad boy’s been compressing since yesterday.” He unconsciously gestured over in the rough direction of the MAV for good measure.

“As a result, all we really need is a bunch of hydrogen atoms to burn.” She dropped her smile, pausing momentarily.

“I presume you see the issue Johanssen?” he interjected with a pointed index finger. “That’s exactly what combustion is, so we might just blow ourselves up in the process.” She must have known that. Johanssen took the opportunity to look away ever so slightly.

“That’s a given,” she momentarily paused, “But I think we both agree that we can’t exactly avoid it. Not like there’s a bunch of water ice anywhere in the immediate vicinity for us to use. If you’re iffy about that second part, then I know you’re not going to like Step 1.”

“You plan on making a trip to Jupiter?” Watney jokingly remarked.

“No, although the actual plan might make you wish we went to Jupiter,” she replied, snorting and then taking a quick breath. “We’ve both established that we need the fuel cells, and there’s really nothing else hydrogen based with the normal mission equipment. However,” she claimed with a weak smirk. “We almost forgot that the MDV has a lot of hydrogen.”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about using the hydra-” 

Mark, once the pieces fit together in his head, mentally took a step back. The MDV runs on hydrazine. The MDV has excess hydrazine. Hydrazine has hydrogen atoms. It’s also ridiculously toxic and explosive as fuck. As in the odds of them blowing themselves up were absolutely fucking ridiculous.

“Johanssen, uh, funny joke,” he replied, flashing a grin. “Although seriously, what’s the actual plan? You know, one that doesn’t quite lead to death by explosion and/or fire?”

“I wish I had a better plan Watney,” she replied, furrowing her brows. “I thought about it for a few days, and hydrazine is the only good source of hydrogen we have on the planet. Not to mention the MDV has a catalyst made to filter out hydrogen from the hydrazine.”

“Well. Anyways,” Watney continued, trying to ignore just how psychopathic the plan was. “We’ll need a contained area to conduct the hydrazine so we can collect the water. Don’t expect me to be able to build a reaction tent that’s anything other than shitty with only duct tape and plastic bags.”

“Buckle up Watney, because there is a place we can make water already,” she said a little more meekly. “It just, um, how do I say this? It happens to be the Hab.”

Watney definitely needed a moment to put the whole plan together in his head.

“If, for some reason this is genuinely your idea,” he said, still putting it together, “Your plan is to set a fire. With explosive rocket fuel. In the place we live.” Mark let out a groan of concern, summing up his thoughts. “This is, in theory, possibly the worst idea ever. I don’t think I could come up with a worse idea if I tried. Trust me, that’s saying something.”

“But in practice it’ll be better, right?” 

Watney’s eyes narrowed, very concerned about the plan. She was grasping at straws. The hint of desperation on her face made that clear. Then again, they did need the water in order to grow enough potatoes to survive. Whether or not he liked it, hydrazine might have been their only option. That didn’t make it any better.

“Johanssen, in practice we’re setting a fire in the Hab. If that’s good practice, then NASA would consider my duct tape strategies fair play.”

“However,” she amended, “At least in theoretical practice it’s a good idea.” Watney did little other than raise an eye.

“Are you just putting random words together to make this idea sound better?”

“Look, let me explain,” Johanssen began. “NASA’s designed the hydrazine tanks to be durable in order to give the MDV some margin when it lands. As a result, the tanks are pretty resilient. We won’t break them that easily.” She stared at Watney’s face, and he turned to make eye contact with her. “When we start releasing hydrazine into the Hab, we’ll be able to control the amount of hydrazine that we release with the tank valves, so we won’t blow up.”

Watney faced the odd dilemma of whether or not to remain concerned or impressed.

“Is this how you normally think through your problems?” he inquired.

“Uh, I guess?” she replied with an expression that implied she would normally have shrugged.

“Not gonna lie, this explains some shit,” he remarked while folding his arms in front of his chest. “You taking something that’s not practical in theory, a stupid idea in practice, processing the limits of everything involved, and then going ‘fuck it’ if it turns out to work.”

“What does this explain?”

“The time you ate a lemon,” he said as he dredged said memory up from the recesses of his brain.

“Are you still thinking about that?” Johanssen exclaimed, exasperation clear. “That was, like, two years ago. I was tired, it was the morning, and you just happened to have some lemons with you. It seemed obvious.”

“You didn’t just eat a lemon with the peel on, you also ate the leaf with it! Hell, I nearly fucking ran you to the hospital just ‘cause I wasn’t sure you can eat a lemon leaf!”

“Hey, both of those things are edible, and I saw you wash the whole lemon. Like I said, I was tired.” Watney narrowed his gaze further, practically squinting.

“You’re only proving my point. You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Okay, back on topic,” she interjected. “We have a bunch of hydrazine left over from the MDV landing. We checked the site out a few days ago, and from what I saw everything looks fine.”

“As an engineer, I can confirm that the ‘not exploded’ component of MDV shows that it’s at least usable,” he jested.

“What’s even better is that stoichiometry helps us here, since hydrazine’s four hydrogen atoms allow us to turn one mole of hydrazine into two moles of water.”

“Nerd,” he replied while Johanssen rolled her eyes.

“As a result, we’ll raid the MDV for hydrazine and whatever we need to cause it to react, and we can cobble together a reaction chamber in the Hab.”

“Where are we storing the water?”

“We need it in the dirt, so we might just make it in the air and let it settle on the walls and floor. It can drip into the soil after it condenses.” She finished, giving Mark some time to process the whole plan.

Okay, she actually fleshed this idea out. Barring certain times she partook in amounts of citrus, her judgement was solid and she had good reasons for many of her arguments. Hell, the whole ‘death by explosion’ component was actually nullified by her argument that the valves would be able to regulate the hydrazine.

“Not gonna lie, this is actually a half-decent plan,” Watney mused. “I mean, as long as you ignore the ‘possible death from explosion or fire’ part, it’s a good plan. And the fact that NASA wouldn’t dare try this on their most suicidal day.”

“Watney,” she dryly replied, “Part of my work on the mission was maintaining a nuclear reactor. Why would I be scared of a little fire?”

“Excuse me Johanssen, ” he drew out as long as he could. “Not everyone on this planet is quite so trusting of basically contained deathtraps.” She scoffed.

“How are you one to complain about that? Your job was managing some of the most advanced equipment in the history of the world! You were the lead engineer on the Hermes, which is basically three centimeters of buffer zone from the vacuum of space. A little fire isn’t too bad for us to handle.”

“When you put it like that, we both sound pretty damn badass,” he replied.

“Well follow my lead, and we’ll survive on a barren planet. Does it get more badass than that?”

“All right, Johanssen. We’ll set a fire in NASA’s stuff.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she smirked. “Now it’s time for you to suit up. Sorry, but you’re still on dirt duty.”

“Shit.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 11

Johanssen gazed up at the monstrosity Watney had created, and it was decent. Function over form after all.

There wasn’t really much to describe it as other than a bunch of ripped up plastic bags in a tent-like form. The inside of the tent was empty, baring Watney, herself, and a table with the few things they needed, with a sorry air hose dangling out as a sort of chimney. It certainly wasn’t up to NASA standards, but it was close enough.

“Okay, I think we have everything,” she claimed. “You want to go over the process again?”

“Sure. I’ll put on this oxygen mask here,” Watney said while gripping said mask, “And ignite Martinez’ wooden crucifix with some pure oxygen.”

“Just saying, I still feel pretty bad about burning it,” she said with a light frown. The whole ‘burning items their fellow crewmates had left on Mars which were certainly sacred’ obviously didn’t quite sit right with her.

“Well, I’m just saying, I think God would give us a pardon in this situation.” he retorted. “We sort of need to do this to not die, just in case you forgot.”

“I’ll stand outside the cover so I don’t get burned by hydrogen because only you have three layers of protective clothing,” she continued, reciting the plan the two of them had concocted the day before. She quickly glanced over him, and noted that he did not in fact forget the layers of clothing. “And you’ll slowly drip some hydrazine into the iridium bowl we’ve prepared.” A quick check revealed that said bowl and hydrazine were in place.

“Then right above it, I’ll hold the torch so the hydrogen will react, and we’ll get a bunch of water all along the walls,” he finished with a grin. “Although, I know standing in here’s going to suck, just because chemistry is fucking messy so some of hydrazine will turn into ammonia.”

“Oh, nice job Watney,” Johanssen said while pulling out her vandalized flashlight. “I’ll be honest, I almost forgot that part, so thanks for saving our asses. I think you know what to do with this.”

Watney took his time to look at the flashlight, turning it over in his hands a little before holding it still. He dropped his grin, which was just a little concerning. Granted, she could have pulled the flashlight apart a little more neatly, but again, function over form.

He had to know what it was needed for. A ripped apart flashlight was the perfect tool for the job!

“Um,” he unceremoniously proclaimed, “No, I don’t know what this is for.”

“Oh come on,” she eagerly stated. “You hit the nail on the head, chemistry is messy.”

“Johanssen, I still have no idea what you want me to do with this.”

Her smile faltered just a little.

“The hydrogen?”

“What about it?” he asked, visibly confused.

“Since the reactions won’t burn completely with only one pass, you won’t use up all of the hydrogen with the crucifix,” she stated, concerned that Watney didn’t get it. “You can use the flashlight to burn off the excess.”

Mark stopped for a moment. A very concerning moment. Fuck, he might have actually been justifed in being worried about blowing up. Still, both of them were good at problem solving, and they would be fine. Absolutely fine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck,” he rapidly exclaimed. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”

“Do you understand my logic?” Johanssen replied.

“Yes,” Mark said while hiding his frustration, “I understand what the flashlight is for now. Motherfucker, I’m a qualified NASA moron.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” she continued. “We go over this stuff together so we don’t explode.”

“Just gimme a moment,” Mark replied, still standing motionless. Johanssen took the moment to quickly exit the impromptu tent.

After a hearty minute, Watney finally made his move. Delicately pulling on his oxygen mask, and checking to make sure it worked, he cautiously picked up the crucifix, and brought it next to the tank of pure oxygen lying horizontally on the table. With a quick blast of air and a spark, the wooden cross quickly ignited.

Time for the moment of truth.

With only a moment of hesitation, Mark opened the valve, letting hydrazine drip into the iridium bowl. It nonchalantly disassociated into nitrogen and hydrogen, where it quickly ignited, causing spurts of flame to blast out of the chimney like a miniature rocket. Johanssen, from her relatively far distance, smiled at the working apparatus.

Taking a few steps forward, she carefully watched Watney work within the miniature tent. She was utterly silent, knowing well that disturbing him while he was working with explosive gases was, quite frankly, an atrocious idea. It was pretty good that they caught the fact that the gas transfer wasn’t perfect.

Something in that area of thought didn’t sit right with her.

Sure, the reaction itself was settled, and everything else was fine. It had to be! It wasn’t like the Hab air would change the situation that much, and what could go wrong with the oxygen mask?

The oxygen mask wasn’t a perfect seal.

Exhaling still releases oxygen, that was how CPR worked.

Mark was adding oxygen into a tent he was filling with hydrogen.

Johanssen took a moment to fully think through her point, and then thought it through once again. And a third, for good measure.

“Mark, I think you need to stop.” She made the desperation in her voice clear. “The oxygen mask-”

When Johanssen felt the explosion slam into her, she suddenly realized that the third moment to think might have been a bad idea.

“Ow, motherfucker!” Mark bit his teeth as the searing pain coursed through his seared hand. The only saving grace was that a hydrazine explosion wasn’t quite as bad as getting impaled on communication antennae.

Granted, it still fucking sucked.

“Hold still Mark. I know this hurts, but that’s just how ointment works,” Johanssen said apprehensively, as she very carefully administered the pale white gel from her fingertips. ”At least your protective clothing managed to cull the worst parts of the explosion.”

After the explosion, the pair did their best to drag themselves towards the medical supplies. For the first time in a while, Johanssen was the one using her arms, carefully grabbing some burn cream for Watney, who was well within the blast radius. After stumbling towards the nearest bunk, the two sat facing each other, Johanssen tenderly applying the cream as she checked Watney’s skin for burn marks.

“Yeah, well I was aiming at not getting any explosive fluids on my body,” he said, “But not getting exploded too much is nice too.” 

“Again, sorry for not picking up on the oxygen mask,” she replied, carefully rubbing Mark’s arm down with the ointment. “God, I nearly got both of us killed… ”

“Johanssen, you don’t need to blame yourself for this,” he claimed, glancing up at her eyes. “I didn’t catch that part either, so this is just as much my fault as it is yours.” Both remained quiet after his statement.

Judging by her tone, she was definitely blaming herself for this incident, and there was no way he was going to let this slide. Johanssen was the smartest person he knew and managed to concoct this entire plan while he was sitting around being fussy and not realizing the use of certain flashlights. Like hell he was going to let her feel horrible!

“This whole plan was my idea,” she mused quietly. “I was too fucking confident with messing around with hydrazine, and that nearly fucked us both.”

“Overall, it’s still a good idea,” Watney continued. “It’s pretty much the only way we’ll get enough water for the crops.” Johanssen still sulked.

“I should have thought this out more-”

“Look, Johanssen, stop blaming yourself. If that’s not getting to you, is calling you Bethy Jo gonna work?”

Johanssen, as per Mark’s impromptu plan, had to stop sulking in order to respond.

“Bethy Jo?” she inquired, a little confused. “You can’t be serious with that nickname.”

“Your fault for having such a long name,” he quipped. 

“That doesn’t mean anything with respect to that mockery you’ve crafted,” Johanssen finally turned to Watney, intensifying her stare. “Hell, you’re still saying the same amount of syllables! What’s the point of even using it!?”

“Nerd,” he bluntly stated. Johanssen immediately froze, and then did everything she could to keep herself from stammering.

“Mark, are you even being serious now?” she incredulously replied.

“Why the fuck would I ever be serious?” he deadpanned. “NASA forgot to install the stick up my ass in training.”

“When the hell would NASA have had the time to install a stick up anyone’s ass?” she snarked, her smile unconsciously brightening. “You know very well that in between the mission simulations and the mile runs, we had a fuck-all amount time to spare.”

“They obviously installed them with the tattoos, obviously,” he eye-rolled. Johanssen shrank back ever so slightly in response.

“Please don’t mention the tattoos,” she said, somewhat frightened. “I’d rather forget that those ever happened.” She unconsciously groped the 15 on her arm, shuddering only momentarily. Ah, and here was the Johanssen paradox, her whole issue with the tattoos. Why the fuck she didn’t like them after the entire rest of NASA training was still a mystery to him.

“I don’t get you Johanssen,” he followed, suspicious. “The vomit comet, 10k runs, the fucking MDV computer failure simulation, which need I remind you was fucking terrifying, you managed all of those, and you were afraid of a needle. Of all things, a fucking needle.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she awkwardly replied, presenting a shrug.

“Do you just not like surprises?”

Johanssen froze, her pupils shrinking as her shoulders tensed.

Watney, not quite expecting such a drastic response from her, straightened his posture.

“Johanssen, I’ve seen your phone calendar back on Earth, and holy shit do you like to write everything down in it. The only thing I never saw on there was, surprise surprise, the tattoo appointment. Were you just not prepared for it?”

“Watney, shut up,” she cautiously asserted.

“Fuck, is this why you’re beating yourself up over the hydrazine explosion? You don’t like the fact that you never planned for it?”

“Seriously. Just stop it,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Not to mention this explains why you like to plan everything-”

“Mark. ”

It took exactly one second for Watney to realize he fucked up.

He fucked up. Realizing something personal about one your closest friends was one matter, but completely talking through one of their issues in front of them? What the fuck was he doing?

He turned, and saw Johanssen holding back tears. She looked so damn scared. She had her hands holding each other in her lap and looked like she was about to cry.

Holy shit, how much of a moron was he going to be today?

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he claimed with a dull tone that indicated he was talking to himself. “I hit the nail a little too on the head, huh?”

Johanssen’s silence was all he needed for confirmation, her eyes staring at the ground.

“But for what it’s worth,” he continued. “I think that makes you way fucking stronger than I thought you were.” 

At that, she perked her head up, confused. He took the opportunity to continue.

“Not being afraid is one thing, but being insecure and still working as much as you can? Holy shit, you’re amazing Johanssen.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call what I’m doing right now coping,” she muttered.

“What about the training sessions?” Mark remarked. “They made sure everything could go wrong in those sessions, and didn’t tell us what would go wrong in half of them. Even then, you were still on point, as the astronaut I know you are.”

“But-”

“I didn’t even mention Sol 6,” he continued. “You must have been scared out of your fucking mind, and there you were, doing your job like the badass I know you are. So what if you’re not perfect, I know I’m not fucking perfect. Hell, today I’ve honestly been a hell of a fucking idiot. I mean, don’t you dare forget that I forgot the unburned hydrogen issue.”

Johanssen let out a quiet snort.

“Funny,” she replied. “I was always good at working around… all of that stuff you talked about. The psychs either didn’t pick up on it or thought I could still work with it. Figures I’d fall apart in front of you.”

“The past few sols have been pretty shit, don’t worry about it. Also, don’t forget you’re still amazing. At least don’t apologize for that.” Mark reached over to her chin to lift up the sysop’s head, and she prepared a dim smile.

Watney, mostly out of gratitude, prepared a smile in return.

“Don’t worry,” he assured. “We’ll get it right the next time.”

“So what was that famous line Einstein said about insanity?” Watney quipped, back inside the tent of hydrazine.

“Hey, it’s not insanity if we’re doing something different,” she retorted, sitting a respectable distance away. “There’s a reason we have you in your EVA suit.”

“I can’t believe you actually want us to keep working today,” he continued, fumbling with the oxygen and torch with his EVA gloves. His voice made the usual echo it made when transmitted through the suit intercom. “Wasn’t the whole reason we waited yesterday so we wouldn’t be tired when working with the hydrazine?”

“Well yes, but don’t you want to just finish this today? We’re almost done.”

“I’m almost certain this is your thought process right before working through an entire night,” he snarked.

“At the very least everything still seems to be in working condition,” she spoke, ignoring Watney’s comment. “Hell, even the parts of the Hab where the explosion happened seem to be fine.”

“Even if they weren’t, it would’ve been nothing duct tape couldn’t handle.” Watney, carefully lifted the reignited torch back into position. “Now Johanssen, let’s try not to blow ourselves up again.”

Watney once again enabled the hydrazine flow, and watched the clear liquid slowly drip into the iridium. Once more, jets of flame sporadically burst out of the chimney as the hydrogen combusted. He silently held his breath hoping that the assembly wasn’t going to explode again, before realizing the best way to test it.

“Oh no, we’re exploding!” he sarcastically commented. From the background, Mark could hear an odd shake from Johanssen’s general vicinity.

“Watney, what the hell was that?” exclaimed Johanssen. “Were you trying to scare me!?”

“Hey, this system held up through a jinx, so I think it’s pretty good,” he said while bringing the flame just a little closer to the iridium.

“If you weren’t working with hydrazine, I’d punch you in the ribs right now,” she snarked.

“Well, in that case I’ll just make hydrazine until you sleep,” Mark unconsciously said. Unfortunately, he remembered who he was talking to, and quickly realized the flaw in his plan. The flaw being the factthat he was talking to Johanssen.

“Oh no,” she dryly remarked. “I’ve been challenged to stay awake for as long as possible. How can I possibly win?”

“First time for everything Johanssen,” he retorted from within the tent.

“Well then,” she snarked, just loud enough to speak over the hydrazine. “Good luck. Do you want me to play some music for you?”

“Do you fucking think I’d be able to enjoy it?” he asked, shouting. “There’s a pretty loud thing happening next to me called a ‘fire’! You know, that thing we planned to start!?” She chuckled lightly.

“Oh God, of all of the people in the world to be stuck with…” she mused, turning to grab her personal computer.

“You love me!”

“I do, and I have no fucking clue why.” She opened her laptop, quickly opening her folder of books. “I plan on reading over here, but if you want me to go outside to collect more dirt or something, feel free to tell me.”

“Actually, next time I think you should run the hydrazine,” his voice sounded from the Hab speakers. “This isn’t too bad on my arms, so it should be fine for you, even with your fucked up arms. Certainly better than digging.”

“Fair point.”

“Also, just wondering, what are you reading?” She winced a little at the response.

“Um, yeah, figures you’d ask that question,” she carefully dodged.

“C’mon Johanssen, don’t leave me hanging!” he asked. “What did you bring to Mars?”

“Um…” She was just a little shy about telling him. “Agatha Christie. I’ve liked her books since I was a kid.”

“Nerd. Although, what made you think I’d judge you for that?” he cautiously inquired.

“I… um…” she very cautiously prepared her response. “Let’s just say I wasn’t quite prepared for you to ask that question.”

Of all of the possible responses Watney could have given, a temporary silence was perhaps the best.

“Ah.”

The botanist left the word sit in the air, and she felt him changing his tone. Johanssen was admittedly expecting to hear one of his quips.

“Yeah, I could push more, but I think I’ve thrown you under the bus enough today.” She heard the flame’s intensity rise just a little, probably due to Watney moving it towards the hydrogen. “Don’t worry, I know this isn’t a place to push you.”

His reassurance was the best outcome she could have heard.

“Thanks Watney.” Her smile quickly rose on to her face. “I appreciate it.”

Chapter Text

SOL 12

Well, this certainly was unexpected.

Watney never thought he’d even approach being this close to Johanssen. The sheer novelty of the situation was astounding, and that wasn’t even mentioning the intimacy of the moment.

“Don’t worry Johanssen, you’re doing fine,” he reassured.

“... on second thought, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” The concern in her eyes was readily visible, hesitation clear in her voice.

“How are you the one to say that?” He would have made a gesture, but he couldn’t really make one. Not with Johanssen on top of him. “This was your idea in the first place!”

Johanssen bit her lip, staring at Watney from her precarious position. She was at least fine in that this situation had no hydrazine. Sweat rolled down her skin, and he watched as it slowly dripped. Not like he had much else to do in the meantime. This was, almost certainly, just a little bit more intimate than either of them either thought they would experience with each other.

“C’mon Beth,” he said with a smirk. “Show me what a badass astronaut you are.”

Johanssen made her move.

“Oh, fuck,” Mark cried out.

Mark held his legs vertical in the air while lying on the bed, holding them as still as possible. Perhaps the more bizarre component of the display was Johanssen, who was lying with her stomach on Watney’s two feet. As she shook while Mark correspondingly attempted to hold his feet still, she prepared to move.

With Olympic grace, she threw her face into the air, backflipping off of Watney. After she left, Mark took the opportunity to quickly bend his toes. Yes, they hadn’t fallen off in the meantime. As Johanssen flipped through the air, she widened her stance, ready to brace for impact.

God, this was such a stupid idea.

Watney, doing his best to sit up straight, took in her final position. Miraculously enough, she landed with both feet on the ground. Not even sticking out her arms to wobble, she was crouched down, securing herself to the ground.

Watney was, needless to say, dumbfound.

“You fucking psychopath,” he gaped. “You actually did it!”

“Backflip off of your feet and onto the ground, just like you challenged me to,” she said with mirth. “Did you really think I was going to fail that?”

“Eh, not gonna lie, I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to pull that off.”

“The wonders of 0.4 g Mark,” she continued, pride visible in her eyes. “Taking normally impossible stunts and making them possible since gravity became a law in the universe.”

“Actually, why the fuck did I doubt you?” he said, confused. “After you flipped me and Beck into that pool at once, I should honestly be less surprised with how much of a gymnast you are.”

“I- oh.”

Johanssen paused abnormally fast on that last remark. Almost instantaneously so.

“Uh Johanssen? Was it something I said?” Mark retorted, moderately confused.

“Um… sorry,” she replied, sneaking in a nervous chuckle. “You just sort of… brought up something I was trying to ignore. Not your fault though.”

“What did I bring up?” Mark shrugged. “All I did was bring up something we did with Beck.”

Mark suddenly realized exactly what he did, and almost slammed the hardest facepalm possible on to his forehead.

Almost.

He was almost certain Johanssen and Beck were into each other. As in he would’ve easily bet $50 on them dating. Still, they were both really good at keeping any hints of a relationship low enough to avoid Commander Lewis’ watchful eye. The only indications of their feelings he really saw were gentle glimpses and how the pair tended to soften just a little around each other.

Well, and also that time he found both of them sleeping in Beck’s room, but that was another matter entirely.

Point being, those two liked each other. And now here Johanssen was, with Beck over a million miles away from her. He knew he’d have to do a lot to keep the sysop from moping on that front.

“Let me guess. You missing him is the understatement of the century? As in ‘So help me I would build another MAV to go visit him if I could?’” He couldn’t help but grin at that remark.

Johanssen nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or am I just being nosy old Watney?”

“I think you already know most of what I’m thinking,” she duly replied, bending down from her crouching position to sit on the floor..

“I dunno,” he replied, cocking his head. “If there are two people who have a blurry relationship in my head, it’s you and Beck. I still have no idea how you two do it. Beck has the shittiest poker face in the history of ever, and he’s never spilled the beans about what the deal with you two is. Or given any hint whatsoever.”

“I… oh God.” She quickly brought her head down and cupped her hands around it. “I… there are many, many things I could say involving where I stand with Beck, but I honestly don’t think I could go over them today.” 

She let go of her own face, slumping more.

“Hell, maybe never,” she mumbled.

Watney quickly got up off of the bed, turning towards her.

“Don’t worry. Not like it’s my place to know what the deal is between you two anyways. If it turns out you were always a robot and he’s your creator, not like I can tell anyone.” He flashed a smile of reassurance in response.

She scoffed lightly.

“Do… you really think he’d have made a robot and not me?” she weakly snarked. “Did you forget I was the programmer on the mission?”

“Pssh. That’s exactly what a robot would say. Anyways, your stupidly fucking ridiculous thinking speed says otherwise. I mean, wouldn’t it make sense for a robot to be good with programming?”

In the ensuing silence, he took the opportunity to get a little closer. He carefully lifted her head up by the chin, and she didn’t resist. She focused on him, her eyes shining their normal solid shade of brown.

“Not to mention, if you need me to pull off my best Dr. Bossy Beck impression, just ask.” He quickly raised his right fist under his chin, mimicking a thoughtful position. “Oh Johanssen... you appear to have received a paper cut. For that, I suggest you partake in three weeks of bed rest and penicillin.” He attempted his best Beck impression, which was honestly just him being as snooty as possible. She clenched her teeth together, only to eventually fall apart.

Johanssen let out a solid, uncontrollable laugh. Her laughter bubbled out of her chest, and he gently held her chin to make sure she wouldn’t fall over.

“What the fuck Watney,” she retorted, wheezing a little. “That is the worst Beck impression I’ve ever seen.”

“That just means I have plenty of room to grow. We’ll be stranded here for four years, so of course I’ll get better!” He quickly shifted gears. “Although, just to confirm, you don’t blame the crew for what happened, right?” She mercifully snorted.

“Course not. What happened on Sol 6 was just an accident. Certainly it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Is there any particular reason why you’re asking?”

“Not really.” His eyesight dozed away from her. “Just think having a grudge about that would be sort of dumb.”

“Then you’ll be happy to hear I maintain no grudges,” she proclaimed. “I can’t really say this was anyone’s fault. Sol 6 was just an unfortunate accident.”

“Does Mars count as someone?” Mark aggressively inquired. “Because if it does, fuck Mars.”

“Whole heartedly agree Watney,” she responded, nodding solemnly. “If we’re good on that front, I still have a few more stretches I want to perform. Care to join me?”

“Um, how about no?” he subtly put forth.

“You sure you don’t want to? If we’re going to be stranded for four years, we need to keep our muscle mass in tone.”

“Hey, why don’t I go ask my stab wound about whether or not we should. Oh! Wait a minute… ”

He could see Johanssen bringing her head down in thought for just a moment.

“Okay, my bad. But seriously, this is pretty fun. Haven’t you always wanted the chance to mess around in 0.4 g? You’d have to fuck up pretty severely in order to injure yourself.”

“Of course we’d spend our time on another planet doing random tricks,” he said while stretching his arms. “What else are we going to do on this NASA mission, science?”

“Funny how you’re the one bringing up NASA protocol,” Johanssen retorted from the floor. “Didn’t you just say you wanted to make a decent Beck impersonation? Anyways, we have four years to workshop some science, and we’ll be using science on more of that lovely hydrazine tomorrow. I think we have time to slack off.”

“If this is your work ethic, I wonder how the actual fuck you were a software engineer.”

“I take a page from college students and just cram all of the work into my nights. Why do you think I hate waking up in the morning?” She smugly raised an eyebrow for extra effect.

“How are you a productive person?” he said while rolling his eyes.

“Necessity enforces progress,” she replied, lying down on the Hab floor. “That’s basically everything we’ve been doing on this planet.”

“Well, get some good sleep tonight at least,” Watney only half joked. “Something tells me that handling hydrazine when you’re tired is an awful idea.”

Johanssen let out a deep sigh.

“Do I have to drag you into a bed later?” he asked.

“I’ll be honest, possibly. I’ve had a few ideas that I want to-”

“I get the point Johanssen,” he bluntly replied, gazing over at the exercising sysop. “Jeez, where would you be without me?”

Watney, admittedly dozing off, quickly twitched his head up to go look at Johanssen. After her little routine, the two had split up, with Watney reading a novel Johanssen brought while she messed around with some project she kept alluding to. 

On that note, Johanssen had some weird tastes as a nerd. Agatha Christie, the Beatles, who would have guessed she was an Anglophile or something? Unsurprisingly, the sysop was still madly typing on her laptop. Well, he did say he’d drag her into bed if need be.

Slowly rising, he quickly got on his two feet. As he expected, Johanssen called out to him.

“You alright Watney,” she half mumbled. It sounded much more like a statement than a question.

“I’m okay, just not quite sure you are.” In the process, he shambled on over towards the sysop.

“Eh. I’m-”

“Johanssen. Be reasonable. It’s time to sleep,” he said as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“I have t’ work,” she responded, somehow mumbling even quieter. Her eyelids drooped within that very statement.

“We have the time to work tomorrow,” he quickly retorted. “You don’t really need to rush anything. We have spare dirt to double and plenty of water to use. C’mon, get some sleep. You can finish your spreadsheets tomorrow you nerd. Hell, maybe you can finish your sentences as well then.”

“Lllmmm lllnnn.” she responded, to which Watney was frankly confused.

“See,” he said with a sloppily raised eye. “I’m tired. You’re tired. Go to sleep.”

“Mmmm fnnnn.” she said, shifting her drooping eyelids into a squint.

“What are you saying?” he said while flashing a shit eating grin. Maybe he could frustrate her into sleeping.

“Bloody hell Mark, I said I’m fine!” she exclaimed in tired frustration, leaning towards him. He flinched back, not quite expecting her to still have that much energy. He certainly wasn’t expecting her to shout, and especially not in British.

In British.

Wait, what?

“Johanssen?” he responded, moderately confused. “Are you fucking with me?”

“You’re the one fucking with me. Isn’t that obvious?” she responded, her accent highlighting her frustration.

“You have a British accent, like, right now,” he said. “Are you just messing with me?”

Johanssen stopped to think, taking a moment to process his last statement. After staring down at her lips, realization suddenly appeared in her eyes.

“I- uh… Fuck, I totally used my accent,” she said as she deftly dropped it.

Watney desperately wanted to hear more. Somehow, Johanssen figured out how to hide an accent. He didn’t even know that was possible! Then again, it sort of made sense. It definitely explained her taste in culture a bit. Hell, and that wasn’t even thinking about her family. 

“Holy shit.” he said, absolutely dumbstruck. “Tell me more.”

“I… uh… we can talk about this later.” she stammered. “Look, I’ll just sleep now,” she said, cutting her losses. She quickly closed her laptop, getting up to place it somewhere safer. He watched Johanssen clamor back into bed as he finished his thought process.

“This isn’t over you British nerd!”

“Nnnope. Definitely not now.”

He was certain. This would be something very interesting to fuck with. 

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 13

On the screen in front of him, Watney was almost certain was a visual depiction of Johanssen’s thought process. It was a nightmare of numbers scrawled on a digital touch sensitive screen at odd angles in a font that was almost certainly due to Johanssen not running on enough sleep. 

God, who thought it was a good idea to give her a touchscreen laptop?

He recognized a few numbers as some he managed to give Johanssen over the last few sols, but otherwise it was a ridiculous mess. The 150 seemed promising, and she also converted from square feet to square meters? Fuck, she was ridiculous. No wonder she looked tired yesterday. He mostly just sat there, perched in front of Johanssen on one of the beds with her laptop to her left. She sat facing him, both of them sitting legs crossed. There was only one good answer to give her.

“Uh, this is a pretty nice idea of how alphabet soup with numbers should look like,” he retorted, Johanssen turning her head. “Now all we need to do is find someone to market it to.” 

“Right, you always liked the ‘wing it’ approach to problems,” she replied. Her hand lingered near the touchpad on the laptop. “That means I get the joy of doing all of the calculations. And then explaining them to your simple botanist mind.”

“Funny how that simple botanist mind’s keeping both of us alive.” he deadpanned. “I imagine it’s some rough estimates of how we should ration, but I honestly don’t have a fucking clue. You have equation lines sometimes running into each other, how the fuck am I supposed to understand this? In case you forgot, I don’t really have a half decent understanding of the language of scribble.”

“Is it easier to understand than Armenian?” she retorted. “Don’t think I didn’t hear your mumbling back before the Ares Live video.”

“Laugh if you want, those camera instructions were definitely fucking made in Armenian. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for my judgement, ‘cause it honestly looks like someone threw math homework in a garbage compactor,” he retorted, focusing in on a place where she frantically underlined a 67 before crossing out in even more lines.

“That’s why I’m here to explain it,” she replied, pointing to some numbers near the top of the screen. “When we aborted, we left fifty days worth of supplies for six people. Splitting that between the two of us, we would have 150 days worth of food without rationing.”

“And of course we would ration,” he said, finishing her thought. “I think I can live on 1500 calories a day, and I’m hoping you’re thinking about 1200 calories a day.” The unsaid statement was they would still starve a bit, but that was sort of a given. And Johanssen, as he predicted, sheepishly looked up.

“Um, I know you’ll think it’s a bad idea. But I think I can pull off 1000 calories a day,” she replied.

“Well you’re at least right in that I think it’s a bad idea,” he retorted with his hands gesturing towards her.

“Think about it this way,” she began, preparing her argument. “I’ve been able to pull off the normal amount of work on the mission even without eating breakfast, so I can do this. You know food is going to be tight.”

He groaned. “I know food is going to be really fucking tight, but at the same time I still don’t want you to starve. And 1000 calories a day does not sound like fine.”

“Look. Mark, if I end up feeling funny, I’ll tell you,” she assured.

“You better. And don’t go fucking cutting back your rations when I’m not looking! If I see more ribs than usual, I’ll fucking duct tape you down so I can cram rations down your throat.”

She lightly exhaled in response.

“Kinky. Now, we get to the part where I use your numbers.” She slowly lifted her hands up, clasping them together. “If I got any wrong, feel free to let me know.”

“Knowing you, I imagine you’ve somehow added more digits of precision on top of the numbers I’ve given you.” he muttered.

“From what you’ve said, we should plant the potatoes in rows three feet apart with one feet in between two potatoes in a row,” she continued. “Messing around with math a bit gives up a little over three plants per square meter. Factoring in how many potatoes we can grow, assuming we can use the entire Hab, that’s a grand total of 170,000 calories. Or under 70 sols of food. When we need to survive for 1412 sols,” she finished with a wince.

“I dunno, maybe you found an off by a thousand error?” he snarked, unconsciously scanning the screen for any thousand.

“Har har. Nice try Watney, but I can safely say we’re not getting anywhere near Sol 1000. First thing I’m thinking is how long do we need to wait between our crops?” she asked. “If it only takes 70 sols to grow potatoes, then the issues we have are already moot if we don’t need to wait in between crops.”

“Johanssen. That idea sucks,” he asserted. Maybe he should think a little more about what he was going to say, but he could wing it. He was good at winging it. “On Earth, farmers face some issues even when they plant potatoes two years in a row. Two fucking years. While I’ve checked this soil and there isn’t any blight in it, we still need to contend with the fact that the soil needs time to lie fallow, or we’re going to suck all of the productivity out of it. That would fuck us over even more.”

He could already hear the gears in Johanssen’s head turning for her next question.

“If you’re wondering how much time we need in between crops, I’d say about one Earth year. We can go down to 270 days if we want to, but at some point, we’re just playing limbo with the soil resilience.”

“In that case, that’s about 263 or 264 sols in between crops,” she finished.

Momentarily, he once more couldn’t help but admire her thinking speed, which was so ridiculous that he couldn’t keep up with it, even if he had a calculator.

Her eyes narrowed in response as she processed what he said. 

“Not gonna lie, that might be kind of hard to work with. I think it’ll be enough to last until NASA can get us some supplies, but not without some yield improvements.”

She cocked her head towards Watney, shifting her squint towards him.

“I hope you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“Hmm… Dunno,” he mused out loud, staring back at her. “Off of the top of my head, I think I’ve got something. I could go into details, but it basically boils down to prodding all of the crops in just the right way.” 

“Micromanaging,” she summarized. “Simple enough.”

“If we trim the plants correctly and keep them covered, I think we can raise our yield by 50%. Probably.” 

Johanssen flashed a bright smile. Her brown eyes shone with appreciation towards him.

“Also, I think we can grow more crops than 92 square meters,” he continued. “If we’re fine with misusing equipment, and by now of course we are, we can use some of the work tables and the remaining bunks for extra farmland. The real prize I’m aiming for are the rover poptents.”

“I-oh!” she exclaimed, almost nudging her laptop to the side as her arm bent in surprise. “The rover tents have ten square meters of floor space-”

“So we can grow twenty more square meters of potatoes,” he concluded. “And that should hopefully bring us twenty square meters further from starving, along with the extra tables and beds.”

Johanssen more or less instantaneously fiercely grabbed her laptop. Settling it in her lap, she immediately began scrawling more numbers into the document. Watney crouched over to her side, and just watched as Johanssen made her insanely quick improved calculations.

Hell, what the fuck was her movement speed? Yes, he’d seen it before, but it was still ridiculous. If she was listening, he would have quipped about her having partially robotic arms.

He couldn’t help but feel there was something he should do.

… 

And there it was.

“Boop.”

The sysop blinked, visibly startled by what happened. He watched as she stared down her surroundings, figuring out exactly what disturbed her. Watney imagined she wasn’t amused when she found his right index finger poking her in the nose.

“Uhhhh… what?” she blurted out loud, her cheeks glowing a light shade of crimson.

“Sorry, has Johanssen.exe run into an error? Do I have to restart you?” he smugly mocked.

“Why did you… do that?” she stammered out, still trying to process what happened.

“Do I really need an excuse to mess with you a little?”

“I-uh…” Watney saw the variation in emotions course across her face. Confusion. Concern. And then trying to joke about it. “Oh. I… think I do need a restart,” she lightly responded. “Permission to run the reboot routine?” she said in a voice that was just a little intentionally robotic.

“Knock yourself out Johanssen.” He ended on a smug grin-

And then Johanssen leaned her body forth and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

There were many emotions flashing through his mind. Confusion. Surprise. Confusion. Amusement. Confusion. Did he mention confusion?

Fuck, where did his smugness go?

Once he finally focused back into the Hab, yes, it took a while, all of the varying shades of NASA standard white sort of made the background blur into itself, Johanssen was in front of him, staring him directly in the eye. He felt his jaw gaping open. Which was good, because he had something to say.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Do I really need an excuse to mess with you a little?” she smugly retorted back at him.

Holy fucking shit. He felt his fucking lungs trying to rip themselves apart as he laughed.

Eventually he recovered, and duly noticed, after seeing Johanssen writing more numbers on her computer, that she was working once again. His first thought was that she fucking tricked him so she could work. His second thought was wondering exactly how much effort she put into the kiss. He did sort of draw a mental blank during it.

“You there Watney?” She quickly spun her laptop around. “I managed to finish up the calculations.”

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” he retorted. “But yes. I am here,” he said as he leaned forwards.

“If you’ll let me explain, we have a grand total of 126 square meters, which becomes 452 potato plants.” She clasped her hands together, letting the numbers sink in. “Then factoring in your estimates for the potato yield and that 50% increase you were alluding to, we should be able to grow somewhere in the neighborhood of 2650 potatoes. Subtracting out what we’ll need to save for future crops, and that’s a grand total of 152 sols.”

The numbers leapt around in his head, but his main conclusion still hadn’t changed much.

“Uh, does that make a difference? I’m still not seeing those thousand sols.”

“Actually, I think that’ll be enough.” She quickly brushed her hair back, before deftly stopping. “With the increased crop yield, we’ll be able to make it to a second full scale harvest on Mars. Wow. ‘Second harvest on Mars’. Mark that down on the list of ridiculous plans I’ve run calculations on. The main point being that instead of starving around Sol 300, we can make it to Sol 545. Hell, since we won’t have a third harvest, we could store enough to make it Sol 550! Presuming NASA manages to find our message, they should be able to get us some supplies.”

Holy shit.

This was survivable. They had a plan, and they actually wouldn’t starve to death! They were going to live!

The only thing that felt off was her number of 126 square meters. They had 92 in the Hab, another 20 in the rover pop-tents, 4 from two tables, and 8 from two beds. All in all, that was 124 square meters. Where were the last two coming from?

…

Was she proposing that the two of them share a bed?

“Johanssen, you kinky bitch,” he unconsciously said with a grin.

“What?” she blurted out. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you know very well what you did,” he asserted, gesturing to her 126 on the laptop. “In your calculations, you need five beds and two tables on top of the rest of the farming space. Given there are two of us here, I think anyone can see where this is going.”

The smirk on his face sharply contrasted with Johanssen’s neutral thinking expression.

“I… oh,” she finished, letting out a gentle chuckle. “Uh, Mark? I just assumed we’d use all three tables.”

“Wait, what?”

“I figured if we needed work space, we could always improvise on a bed or a chair,” she suggested, the edges of her mouth curving up. “So no, I didn’t do anything. You just have a dirty mind. What’s new?”

Well, shit. He did sort of argue himself into a corner.

“Okay. I know this doesn’t help my case, but we might need to keep a table around. Yes, I know. This does look like trying to encroach on your sleeping space and what not.”

Her amused expression with an arched eyebrow suggested that was exactly what she believed.

“But I think we’ll probably need to workshop a few things in the Hab, and if we do, having a table and not a soft bed to work on would be pretty fucking useful.”

“Hm… alright,” she conceded, “We won’t need to establish those final square meters of farmland until our first harvest, so we can decide what we really need later. As long as we don’t forget to leave enough soil for said square meters.”

Mark drew back for a moment, putting the whole plan together. 150 sols a harvest. Two good harvests. Sol 550. Drawing from little he remembered from Martian transfer windows, that seemed doable.

They could live.

He focused his attention back on the sysop sitting in front of him, and she was grinning prolifically. As in it didn’t look like she could lift the edges of her mouth higher if she wanted to. She deserved it. She threw the fucking numbers together, and proved the two of them could actually live.

“Is this the part where you tell me to go outside to dig more?” She blinked, still smiling from ear to ear.

“Pfft. For once, you can actually do the job you’re trained for.”

“Thought you had the whole ‘smartass’ shtick covered by yourself?”

“I was referring to the other thing we brought you to Mars for.” She quickly stood up, using a hand to quickly close her laptop. “Not to worry you, but we need to get the seed crop going ASAP. The time in between the second full scale harvest and when we’ll run out of food without it is surprisingly thin. We need to get planting right when you say so.”

“Ah. If we’re lucky, that might actually be today,” he grinned, getting up with her. “All of this bacteria has been spreading-”

“Like a bacterial infection?” she smugly finished.

“I’d call it a bacterial infection on steroids,” he muttered. Johanssen snickered in the background. “I mean, what can you say grows faster than a bacterial infection?”

“Eh, I can think of some sorting algorithms whose processing times grow faster, but I don’t need you calling me a nerd more.”

Staring her in the eye, Watney mouthed ‘nerd’ towards her. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll go grab some soil and see if we’re lucky. You wanna go burn some more hydrazine?”

“Nah,” she replied, shaking her arms. It looked pretty fucking weird on his end, but it was probably for blood circulation or something. “I doubt this’ll take long, so I’ll just tag along with you.”

If it wasn’t for being stranded on Mars, Mark would have thought the universe was throwing him a bone. But it did, so maybe it was some sort of make up gift? Still, fuck the universe! If it wanted to be nice, it shouldn’t have stranded them on Mars.

The real miracle within the day was the finished dirt doubling. I mean, a proper doubling in five sols? Two sols ahead of schedule, but he’d take it! The dumb grin he had on his face was one he was glad Johanssen couldn’t see much of, given he was facing down the microscope looking at the soil bacteria.

As a result, the sol immediately became a soil doubling sol, along as a potato planting sol. After mixing the soil up with a decent amount of water, he managed to set aside a decently sized corner of the Hab. Johanssen assured him that even though they were still doubling, there would still be enough to work with when the seed crop was available.

He didn’t want to bother running the numbers himself. So why not hope Johanssen got it right?

“That placement look alright?” he asked.

“Sorry,” she retorted, tape measure in hand, starting from the previous potato. “14 inches. We need twelve.”

If she hadn’t repeated the same statement twenty times already, maybe he would have been less annoyed. But she had, so he was moderately frustrated. Justifiably so. Dicing up the potatoes while keeping two eyes on each piece was easy. Planting the 24 plants would have been easy. But a certain nosy sysop was certainly holding back the process.

“Fuck you Johanssen,” he mumbled while moving the potato over the required two inches. 

“I get it Mark. You hate my micromanaging.” She took a quick glance to the side, staring down at the already buried spuds, mounds peeking up across the corner of the Hab. “But this is pretty fucking important. Saying ‘Oh, it’s just a few inches.’ is how we end up 20 sols short on food.”

He groaned.

“I know you’re right,” he said, burying the potato piece, “But holy shit has it been annoying.”

“Look on the bright side, that was the last one.” She did a quick double take down towards all of the potatoes. “Now we can go do other things.”

He arched an eye. He knew exactly what those other things entailed. Namely, going outside to dig up more dirt while she burned some more hydrazine within the Hab.

“Seriously!? Fuck, who what have thought surviving on a barren planet would be difficult?” He choked out a light snort.

“Sorry Watney, but like I said, these early sols are going to be difficult.” She quickly stood back up, mindful not to step too much on the soil. “The bright side is once we have the farm up and running, we have four years to sit on our asses.”

“Ughhh,” he groaned. “I know, but doing this much fucking sweaty labor fucking sucks. I remember, you have broken arms, but that doesn’t change how tired I fucking am.”

She manifested an ever so slightly sly grin on her face. That wasn’t really a good sign.

“Er…” she began, walking over towards the EVA suits. “If you want me to, I think I can dig. My arms aren’t too sore. Anymore.”

“Heh. Figures you’d throw yourself under the bus,” he said while following her to the EVA suits. “Nah, I’m not going to let you fuck your arms up again. I’ll just dial my complaining down a notch.”

“You mean you’ll turn off your suit comms?”

“Nooooo. I’ll just use a hammer to break them,” he quipped. “Not like I’d just hit a simple button to do something.”

Johanssen, at the EVA suits, looked over towards him with only a mild hint of concern.

“If you want anything, just let me know.”

As much as he hated to admit it, there was something he wanted to know.

Beck. Basically, what her deal with Beck was. When there were other people nearby, it was pretty fucking easy to ignore the fact that she was mysteriously very friendly with the doctor. But here? Now? That question was all too tempting.

“Watney?” She looked just a little more concerned, before the resignation set in. “I get the feeling I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Gimme one question.” he asked. “You answer it. Then you give me the truth when you’re ready.”

“If you want the truth, I know exactly what you want.” The resignation was clear in her voice as she gripped an EVA suit helmet in one hand. “Well, I at least prepared a bit. But I will need some more time for a good story. Fire away.” She then spun around just a little lethargically.

“Are you dating Beck?” Finally. The best gossip story in all of NASA, and he got to hear it first.

Silence quickly emerged in the Hab.

A mixture of emotions appeared on her face. Confusion. Relief. Concern. Before she finally settled on one emotion.

Amusement.

“Oh my fucking God,” she said while holding back giggles. “Years of observations, and that’s your best theory!? What the fuck!?”

“I take it I’m wrong?” The answer was implied as no, but just to be sure… 

“Yes. In fact, if I have to describe your theory properly, I would have to say… ” She cleared her throat. “It’s a rather shameful display.”

Oh come on! Mocking him was one thing, but mocking him in her secret British accent? What the fuck?

“Fuck you Johanssen,” she said with more amusement than anger.

“Well, don’t forget rules are rules Mark,” she replied, shrugging. “That was your question, and it sucked. Better luck when I give you the full story.”

“Johanssen, if you fucking dare wait until Sol 1411 or something-”

“Look,” she said, taking a step forward. “Give me until Sol 31 at least. I’ll tell you then or before then.”

Watney quickly pulled out an unconscious frown. Well, that question wasn’t helpful. In fact, it was almost the opposite of helpful. Not to mention Sol 31 was still quite  a while away. Not as long as Sol 1411, but still.

Oh well, he’d accept it.

Looking back over to Johanssen, he couldn’t help but an extra sluggishness in her movements. Yes, she was equipping her EVA suit for burning hydrazine, but there was a certain delay in her movement.

“Hey, Queen of Nerds! You okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” she replied. “Just remembered something”

“What would that be?”

“So. NASA probably hasn’t found our message outside yet.” He let out a snort in response.

“Doubt it. It’s only been five sols. I imagine NASA has a hell of a clusterfuck to process with our ‘deaths’. They probably need a little more time to get their shit together before taking a picture of the Hab. And that’s still just a bit of an if.”

“That would mean that the crew would still think we’re dead as well.”

Yeah. She had a point. But there had to be more-

Oh. Right. Beck.

Mark took in a sharp breath of air while she slowly pulled her EVA suit together.

“Look. NASA will figure out we’re alive. They’ll tell the crew. And hell, I don’t know much about what the deal with you two is, but I know for fucking sure he’ll be relieved to find out you’re alive.”

Johanssen turned to face him with an odd wistfulness in her eyes.

“Yeah. I suppose.”

“Johanssen, I’m doing what I can, but you haven’t given me much to work with.” It was an odd time to joke, but it’d probably work. “I think we’ve both seen I know precisely fuck-all about what the deal with you and the good doctor is, but just know I’m here for you.”

She raised a dull smile in response.

“Is this your attempt of trying to get me to spill the beans early?” Her tone was an odd mixture of melancholy and humor. Better than nothing.

“I dunno? Is it?”

She let out a gentle chuckle in response.

“Hey Mark. Don’t take this personally, but I still wish Beck was here over you.”

“Really!?” he said in a mock dramatic voice with a gasp for good measure. “After all I’ve done to get you food?”

“I meant emotionally. You know?”

“Of course emotionally. I mean, could you see Beck trying to mix Mars dirt with shit? He’d probably be too busy worrying about infections or something.”

Johanssen smiled just a little brighter.

“But I think as a second pick, you’re a pretty good choice,” she finished.

Mark returned her affection with a smile of his own. Right before a quip of his own.

“Even though Vogel would’ve known how to burn hydrazine?”

“Don’t make me take back what I said,” she playfully mumbled, finally pulling an EVA helmet over her head.

Chapter Text

MISSION DAY 136

Commander Lewis wanted to let her mind go blank. Just for a moment. Just to take a step back and to let her world consist only of what was in front of her. Namely, a plate with the remnants of NASA standard pancakes. Maybe she could.

Moving the last bite into her mouth, she took the time to partake in the taste. Lumpy. Bland. Common characteristics for most dishes on the Hermes. But then again, it wasn’t like she was one to complain about food textures. Months of submarine command back on Earth had thoroughly stamped her taste buds into order, and any former pickiness of hers was absolutely neutralized.

The two people sitting at the table with her were Beck and Vogel, but it still felt empty. She did her best to pretend that the room only felt empty due to Martinez receiving the NASA data dump for the day. 

That was it. No mentions of lost sysops or botanists required. 

Vogel was still working on his standard sausages while Beck was slouched over a packet of eggs. Swallowing her last bite, she gripped her meal tray by the sides and carefully stood up. She walked around her stool, nonchalantly brought her food tray to the dirty dishes bin, and unceremoniously dropped it in. She would have gone looking for Martinez, had the man not walked in. She took a careful stride towards him.

“Has NASA finally finalized the new mission plans yet?” 

“Yep,” he proclaimed. “NASA made the decision. We’ve been scrubbed.”

“I presume the assignments have been reduced?”

“Less reduced and more decimated,” he replied, slowly working his way towards the coffee machine. “All experiments have been canceled, except for what’s necessary to keep the lab mice and the plants alive. Not like either of those need much maintenance anyways.” Once at the machine, he quickly maneuvered through button presses as the machine began to whir.

“Very well,” Vogel replied, looking up. “It would be rather difficult to balance mission experiments with ship maintenance during this time. What should we do with ongoing trials?”

“The big wigs want us to wrap up what we have,” Martinez replied, turning to face Vogel while keeping a hand on the counter. “Finish recording the ongoing trials, and then pause everything. I think everyone who’s been working with the samples knows where to store them?”

“Certainly,” she replied. Ten mission days hadn’t been much time to run experiments, but there were still key samples she would have to return. “It should be simple enough to pause the ongoing experiments today.”

“Ja,” Vogel amended.

Beck kept his head down, apparently preferring to stare at the remnants of his eggs.

“Also, NASA’s sent some papers for everyone to read. General ship maintenance guidelines, I think.” Martinez slowly worked his way across the counter. “Later today, everyone’s on reactor duty. The current plan involves running some more diagnostics just to predict anything that might hit the fan on the way home. And more hands on deck should make the diagnostics easier.”

Well, and the fact that they had already run light diagnostics on the reactor twice, but NASA liked repeating tests. Especially when mission specialists were… missing.

If she was alone, she would have sighed. 

“Reasonable. Are we missing any other important instructions?”

“I’ll be running a quick systems check, but only I need to do that. Not that surprising, after the last three mission days were full of diagnostics too. The rest of you can just work on tying up loose ends in the lab.”

“Very well.”

Slowly, almost undetectably, the scent of coffee spread throughout the small dining room. The scent wafted into her nose, and Lewis took a silent whiff. Right. She saw Martinez start to brew a pot. Before she could contemplate more, she couldn’t help but notice Beck tensing up out of the corner of her eye. The way his hand gripped his fork just a little harder. The way his pupils shrunk.

He was never very good at hiding his emotions.

“Forgive me Commander,” he suddenly said as he stood up, tray in his hand. “I… think I should start on the experiment shutdown duties.” He dexterously moved his dishes into the dirty dishes bin, and pulled a quick heel turn. “The mice can sometimes be a little uncooperative, you know?”

She stared him boldly in the eyes as his shoulders rose a few inches.

“If you say so,” she relented. Cautiously. “However, I will be following you down to the lab in a minute just to get my last sample observations in order.”

Beck stared back at her for one more second, before turning away. His shoulders remained just as tense.

“Understood.” He left without so much as a goodbye.

In his wake, Martinez and Vogel both looked up, with the former getting settled at the table with his breakfast. Vogel turned his head towards Lewis, his mouth opening to speak.

“Commander. I do believe it is time for someone to intervene.”

“I thought you might say that.” She unconsciously stretched her fingers, preparing to follow Beck.

“You two sure?” Martinez asked, eyebrows raised. “We all know what’s up, especially given how close he was with…  you know who. Not to mention, he’s never spilled the beans about their deal. What makes you think he’d want to now?”

“I think this qualifies as a necessary measure.” Vogel’s accent carried crisply across the air. “While it is natural to grieve during these… unfortunate times, it is severely beginning to affect Beck’s mood. More so than the rest of us.”

“Not to mention the fact that we still don’t know how he really felt about… her.” Lewis tried to avoid thinking about her. The dead would rest. Beck needed help now. “Before the mission, I made it exceptionally clear that unprofessional behavior between any two crew members would result in a direct investigation. Need I remind either of you?”

Martinez snorted.

“Ya know, I still have no clue whatsoever why you pulled aside me and Vogel for that chat in particular. Beck? Okay. W- him? I guess? But the two of us have wives. What made you think either of us would make a move like that?”

“Then you’d be surprised at what I’ve had to break up on my naval missions. Back on point, Beck’s current behavior is beginning to hamper his mission work. Do both of you agree?”

“ Ja. Doctor Beck has been markedly slower during experiments. In particular, he seemed less responsive during the last weekly medical exam.”

“I noticed that too, and it’s been getting worse. He’s been spacing out during sample tests more lately. If this keeps us and we need him for an EVA, it could impact the mission.”

“Just… don’t go overboard, ‘kay?” Martinez flashed a dull grin. “If he’s already mourning, don’t kick him while he’s down.”

“I just want to understand what the basis of their relationship was, and whether or not it was… ” She drew a light breath in before her final words. “Partially or completely romantic. With a minimal number of questions.”

Vogel, standing up, nodded in response.

“I suppose it is a valid concern with the two of them. However, do make sure to approach the situation cautiously.”

“I believe I already have a way to do so.”

“Before you leave, would you like some coffee?”

“I think that would be inappropriate. I can only assume that Beck left due to the smell reminding him of her, especially given how she drank used to drink it so much, so bringing the scent with me to the lab would be detrimental, to say the least.”

“Hey, mooching off of my coffee?” Martinez quipped. “At least offer me some first!”

“Be grateful I am pouring it for you,” Vogel deadpanned in response.

Commander Lewis let out a weak wheeze before turning to leave the dining room.

Navigating across the Hermes was always a unique experience. Microgravity was one thing, Earth gravity was another, and the Hermes was an odd blend of the two. There were certain parts of the ship that an unsuspecting astronaut occasionally crashed into the wall just due to how gravity was nowhere near consistent over the entire ship. But after four months, navigation had become relatively easy.

Taking an impromptu detour to her room, she quickly grabbed the door frame, took a quick step in, and hoisted her laptop off of her desk. Then, tucking it under her arm, she quickly darted towards the lab.

Without further fanfare, she made her way into the machine heavy area. She browsed over the sterilized equipment, before eventually spying Beck working in the corner. Over the mice cage, just where he said he’d be.

“Beck, I’ll be starting up the sample wrap-up procedure. Do you mind if I play some music?”

“Eh, sure?” he responded. “Although I thought everyone left their personal drives in the evacuation?”

“I requested some additional music files, and I got them on a data dump a few days ago.” She maneuvered over to the sample analysis section of the lab.

“If it’d make you happy.”

Arriving at the experiments, she quickly pulled her laptop out, set it aside, and pulled up a good song. She clicked and turned over to the first sample while her laptop began the song.

“Ooh. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life… ” Her computer enthusiastically sung Dancing Queen while she wrapped up the various sample experiments. If there was a time for disco, it was now.

As she opened the first machine, she couldn’t help but think about how both the samples and the equipment were paltry at best. 6 sols of samples and light weight equipment weren’t exactly the best choices. The only reason they had samples to work with period was due to NASA protocol of storing samples on the MAV after every sol.

There wasn’t much to do. The samples were isolated and the machines were still unpowered, samples only in them to avoid reloading the machines in between mission days. Still, she only managed to pull out a sample storage container before the final lines of Dancing Queen rang out through the lab.

“Commander, just wondering.” Beck replied from behind her. “Did you really ask for disco, or is this some weird joke?”

She quickly spun around.

“What’s wrong with disco?” She raised an eye in response.

“Uh, are you serious? Maybe something to do with the fact that the genre’s been dead for something like 70 years?” In his hand, she saw a small mouse squirming just under his thumb.

“It’s a nice genre, and it makes me feel happy. What else is there?” 

Beck carefully put the mouse down, and turned to face the commander.

“Just… I don’t know. Probably would have taken you for a blues type of person. If anything.”

“Don’t get me started on the blues. My experience with the blues boiled down to me moping around, and was a time of my life I am not planning on repeating. If you ever catch me listening to the blues, please assume I need mental help, stat.” Beck let out a light snort. “Disco’s nicer to listen too anyways.”

Beck took a few steps towards her. He turned his head back towards the open mouse cage, before apparently deciding that the mice wouldn’t mind the fact that the enclosure was open and turning his head back.

“Commander, do you have something to say? You sound a little more aggressive than usual.”

“Look. I know you’re not going to like it, but there is something the two of us have to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“Before I start, I know this is a sensitive topic for you. If you need time to respond, take it.”

“What’s the subject?” His voice gave away hints of concern.

“Johanssen.”

There her name was.

She hadn’t mentioned her name since the evacuation. Nor him. Mentioning either of their names felt like grave robbing, so it was always just ‘her’ or ‘him’.

Beck took a step back at just the mention of her name.

“I- uh- Commander, how does this affect the mission!?” he stammered. “We’re- She’s- There are no more issues between us on the mission!”

“Unfortunately, there is.” She sighed. “Beck, I’ve seen you grieve. Everyone on the ship has seen you grieve, and to be honest, I’m almost certain this is going to get worse, especially since you never talk about her. I’ll make this simple. Just a few questions, okay?”

For a split second, the only sound she heard was Beck’s erratic breathing.

“No! Look, I swear I’m fine. Everything’s fine!”

“Do you remember when I pulled you aside and told you that I wouldn’t tolerate unprofessional behavior? I understand grieving is natural, but we’re approaching the point where it’s interfering with the mission. Especially if NASA needs an EVA.”

Beck immediately shut his mouth.

“Do you understand?”

“...Okay. I make no promises about answering… ”

“Were you and Johanssen… romantically involved? In any way, shape, or form?”

“... No.”

“So you two were just friends?”

“I… guess? There are a million other things I could add, and there’s no way in hell I’ve ever experienced anything similar with anyone else.”

“Did the two of you have personal history before the mission selection?”

“Before either of us were astronauts. We were basically best friends. Even if Martinez and… Watney liked to interact with people.”

She tried to ignore his mention of Watney. One problem at a time. 

Relative to Johanssen, she understood why they would’ve hidden any indication they knew each other. NASA tended to raise concerns when two astronauts were too interconnected, romantically or not. 

“I imagine this was to avoid mission selection conflicts?”

“Yep. I was in the program before her. I knew that past history might get us grounded, even if we were always professional around each other.”

She lowered her shoulders just a little.

“Normally, I would have said that you should have left that decision to the professionals. But knowing how well the two of you worked together, I think that it’s been fine.”

She lied a little. This was what NASA would have been afraid of, getting distracted over a lost crewmate, but there was no way in hell she was going to say that to Beck’s face right now.

“I… Fuck, I should have saved her.” Tears already built in his eyes. “I should have saved her. I saw the damn MDV flying towards her and did nothing. I just let her die.”

“Beck, take a step forward.” She cautiously pulled the stool behind her forward. “If you need a moment, please sit down.” As she pulled the stool in front of her, Beck, clamored on to it, kneeling.

“I failed her. I failed so miserably that no one’s ever failed this much!”

“Beck, you didn’t fail.”

“I FUCKING FAILED.”

“Beck. Let me make something clear.” Her tone was as sharp as she knew it had to be. “You did not fail. I was the commander, and this was my mission. If there is someone to blame her death on, it was me.”

“I...” Beck pulled his head into his arm, where he choked out a sob. “It’s not that simple! NONE OF THIS IS!”

He let out another sob, tears drenching the top of his arm.

“I think that’s half of the problem. I’m trying to understand your feelings, but I know I’m missing most of the context.” She glared down in response. This was far more personal than she was planning on getting, but the words left her mouth before she could properly think about them. “Now. I’d like to at least know enough about the two of you to understand how you feel. This won’t interfere with anything mission related. It’s just so I can help you. Feel free to not tell me if you think this encroaches on your privacy.”

“I… this is just a fucking mess.” Beck tried to wipe his tears from his eyes, mostly just smearing them in a messy stain over his upper face. “If… you really want to know, there’s a place in particular that I’d like to start, but it’s sort of tangential. Just… don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know about this.”

She genuinely needed a minute to think about whether or not to accept. 

She still needed boundaries. At the end of the day, she was still his commander and he was her subordinate. But then again, she was likely the one he would have trusted the most, and telling him to go tell Martinez or Vogel certainly wasn’t going to work if he wanted to keep this private. Choices, choices. It boiled down to one decision. 

Was she a commander or a friend?

Beck was offering to open up, and her only options were to accept or decline. There was no way in hell she was going to let him grieve alone.

“My lips are sealed. Promise.”

“That’s… heh. That’s where the whole issue is.”

She could have pressed more there. But she didn’t.

“So. I take it you remember my dad’s a senator?”

“I remember you mentioning it a few times.” 

She meant once. Beck was never one to brag about his personal life.

“We also lived in Connecticut. You know, near New York, Massachusetts, and a bunch of other big cities. Pretty busy area. My dad went out for public meetings many, many times, and I just sort of rolled with it. He also, um, occasionally brought some visitors to our house.” He flashed an odd, reminiscent smile.

His smile was a welcome change in his mood. 

“Did you like them?”

“Oh God, don’t get me started on most of them. Most of the time it was just adults who happened to be in the area, but there were a few kids who visited. Can you imagine? Having a meeting on the other side of the country, and dragging your kids kicking and screaming with you. My mom stayed at home, so I was never on the kicking and screaming end. It was mostly with kids who had two famous parents instead of one.”

“So… did you meet Johanssen like that?”

“Uh… Yes. No. That question has a hell of a load of ambiguity, and given the story, I think that was inevitable.” He mustered a tired chuckle. “But yeah, she definitely would’ve fallen into that last category, huh? Most of the kids that popped around were just a little… aggressive for my tastes. So I just sorta hung out in my room reading books when people came around. Became a habit.”

She couldn’t help but try to imagine the scene in her head. Beck, as a child, reading a book on his bed while trying to ignore the kids running around outside of his room. Him getting up to grab some ear plugs when they started to scream louder.

“There was this one time I heard a crash outside my room. I was pretty damn worried when I heard it. Hell, I thought someone fell down the stairs and broke a bone or something! So I ran. I ran down and found that a little girl had tripped and twisted her ankle. She insisted she was fine. Even though I could see that her ankle was twisted, she tried to pretend it was fine.”

“Was that girl...”

“I’ll explain everything later. Please, just let me finish.”

She let her sentence remain unfinished.

“Now, I didn’t know much when I was four years old, I don’t think anyone did, but I knew you had to put ice on a twisted ankle. So I ran to get an ice pack. Would’ve been easy if I didn’t run into a boy with a British accent on the way. When he saw me, he stopped me. Shook me pretty damn violently. He was begging for help for his sister who had gotten hurt running around. I put two and two together, and figured the tripped kid was his sister. I led him with me to get an ice pack. He followed me.”

She kept thinking about little Beck. Still just as diligent at caring for people as the man in front of her. Willing to lend a hand to two kids who he’d never met before.

“I didn’t know you’ve always been such a dedicated doctor.”

“Well, good habits are best when started early. Anyways, I got back, and I found out the girl was moving. Like, slowly limping around on her twisted ankle. I was pretty shocked. And, of course, the first thing I tried to do was to tackle her down. Not my best plan, in hindsight. So in the end, just imagine me holding down this random kid I never even talked to, while her brother held an ice pack over her foot. And, heh, if that wasn’t enough, I then said that they didn’t need to worry, cause I was sort of learning how to be a doctor! Cue me getting into an argument with the boy about whether or not being a doctor was a good job, based solely on the merit of touching blood every day. Man, he was such a nerd.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Two little kids who got into a little accident, saved by a young Beck. Just a little slice of life.

“Eventually, my parents came back inside, and the parents of the kids came back in too. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of concern, but it sorted itself out. A lot better than expected. After that, things spiraled out from there. They were weird. Twins. Had completely separate personalities. And the boy had a weird British accent that I’d never heard before.”

On that note, as the doctor’s cheer seemed to wear out, she blinked. There was something in how he described them, practically listing who they were, that implied she should have known them. Twins. A British accent. Would have known Beck. Who would have been related to Johanssen.

She did know two people like that. Two people who she saw shortly before launch. Two people who would have known Johanssen, more than even Beck knew her.

Because they were Johanssen’s older siblings.

She covered her mouth with a hand. Beck looked at her with a dull sort of reluctance.

“Do you understand now?”

“I… think so,” she finished, lowering her hand. “There’s no way you would have mentioned that last part if you weren’t talking about them. William and Crystal Johanssen.”

Mission training was far, far too hectic for anyone to really have visiting family members, but the pair of twins was the exception to the rule. With the former having a computer related job like her younger sister and the latter being a supermodel, hell, a supermodel of all things, so the two of them often made quick excursions to check in on their little sister.

“So yeah. I knew them. And for reference, I was four when I met them. They were both five.”

If she had the presence of mind, she would have made her shoulders tense again.

“Wouldn’t that mean-”

“Yep. I met them before Johanssen was even born. By about two years.”

There were many, many unnecessary thoughts running through her head, but she just let them run over her so Beck could continue.

“Look. I’ll make the last part quick. Don’t ask how, but I promised them I’d keep Johanssen safe. I don’t want to elaborate. Not now. Really. And I think we both know what happened to her.” He finally broke eye contact with her. “I failed.”

Of the many thoughts running through her head, she did her best to filter in the ones that were actually beneficial. Not that she was all that successful.

“Wow. That’s one hell of a story.”

“I don’t even know what to think about it.”

“Do William and Crystal still hold it against you?”

“No.” He fidgeted on the chair a little. “They said they understood. That the storm was no one’s fault, and they said that I didn’t do anything wrong. Even if I did.”

She stared at him. There were no good options, just the least bad option.

“Beck. Are you a psychic?”

“... No.”

“Did you know the MDV was going to swing towards us more than five seconds in advance?”

“... No.”

“So could you have anything more with the realm of possibility?”

He shook his head, letting out a snort in the process. The look on his face screamed discomfort.

“I still failed her.”

“If there’s someone who failed, it’s me. I was your commander. And her commander. If you asked me what I could’ve done, I could’ve evacuated earlier, told everyone to keep an eye out for flying debris, hell, anything. You didn’t do anything. Beck, I failed here.”

“Commander, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He raised his palms in response. “You did everything you could to get everyone out there in one piece, and the only thing you could’ve done better was knowing the future.”

“Then couldn’t we apply the same argument to you?”

Beck froze. Palms displayed in the air for her to see.

“I… ” He eventually lowered his hands.

“Look, I’ve sort of thought about this stuff, and I get it. Grieving is only natural. Grieving is what happens when you lose someone you love. But at the same time, you can’t mourn forever. I know you liked her. I’m not saying you should just forget what happened, but I think, if you try hard enough, you can remember how to be happy without her.” 

He slowly raised his face back towards her, and she continued once he was done. 

“Yes, I know. Cliche, isn’t it? But at the same time, when is moving on from something like this healthily not cliche?”

He was clearly ready to speak. She waited as his face turned a few shades less pale.

“Is this why you like disco?”

The edges of her lips curled up.

“I was getting there, but thanks for getting there first.”

“I… God. I miss her. I really, really miss her. But at the same time, you do have a point.”

“Don’t forget you’re not alone.” She extended his hand towards him. “I know I’m never going to be able to be Johanssen, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be your friend.”

“Uh, I thought you had to maintain social distance. You know, as my commanding officer.” She let out a breath as the edges of her mouth curled up more.

“Normally I’d maintain that distance, but these circumstances are nowhere near normal. And they won’t be. If you need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Beck eyed up her hand in a way that gave off an aura of general caution rather than suspicion. Eventually, he did drop his shoulders.

“Alright.” He reached his hand over, and the two shook. “Thanks for being there for me.”

“Of course. No way in hell I’d let you suffer on your own.”

“Oh, Commander? On that note, are you doing fine? I’ve been sort of falling apart, and if you’ve helped me, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been better.” She let out a sigh she had been holding for most of the morning. “That’s not even mentioning Watney.”

“I… fuck. Dealing with Johanssen was already more than I could handle. Watney… not now.” He smiled nervously. “Just know I miss him too.”

“I think everyone does.”

She took a moment to think about them. A little sysop, smarter than every other astronaut at NASA. A loud mouthed botanist, smiling bright enough for both Earth and Mars. Two people who almost certainly didn’t deserve to die.

She would mourn, but she would move on. If not for herself, at least for the rest of the crew.

She brought her head down. Beck did too. The experiments could wait another five minutes.

______________________________________________________________________________

A few million kilometers away, a sysop preparing to burn hydrazine worries about her closest friend. A botanist preparing to shovel for soil assures her that he’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

As per usual, bureaucracy slowed down everything.

Teddy Sanders trudged his way to work for the morning, and even that felt slower than usual. Everything felt slower than usual. Sol 6 had left shockwaves pulsing through the entirety of NASA, and the organization was never the best at dealing with sudden shocks. Yes, the funeral for Johanssen and Watney had taken place last afternoon, but there was still more work to be done. Like the ever so necessary revised safety protocols for Ares 4.

Walking up to the Johnson Space Center main entrance, he noticed two large square plots of marked land that weren’t there yesterday. Right. He’d almost forgotten that statues would be built for both of the fallen astronauts. There had been quite a bit of a debate over whether or not to build one or two statues, and the eventual decision was that there would be a combined tombstone at the Arlington National Cemetery with separate statues decorating the front lawn of the Johnson Space Center. 

He wasn’t surprised. Enough public support could really do anything.

Walking near the right plot, he couldn’t help but hear two people, a man and a woman, conversing while staring at the empty space.

“God, I think it’s almost hilarious,” the woman cried. “We both know she never liked public attention, and now she gets this.”

“ I do suppose you have a point, ” the man replied, British accent crisp. “ I think she would at least appreciate the fact that this statue will be life-sized. ”

“But could you imagine her looking at a giant statue of herself? She would make that face where she tries to play it off and ends up looking a little embarrassed just because she wouldn’t really understand why she’s getting all that attention.”

“ Oh, are you talking about her blush? Yes, she always had her own special blush. ”

Sanders moved to greet the two bystanders. “Good morning Mr. and Ms. Johanssen.”

The two spun around to face him, the former doing so a little more sedately and the latter spinning just a little quicker, and replying first.

“Oh! I’m sorry Dr. Sanders, I was just taking the time to look at this spot. I mean, this is where they’re putting the statue, right?”

“No need to worry Ms. Johanssen. It’s not like you’re blocking the path.”

She let out a light breath. “Yeah, I guess I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“ You always ramble on, ” the other man replied. “ By the way, feel free to use our first names, especially since I know you would have referred to our sister by her last name as well. ”

“Yeah. Calling me Ms. Johanssen just sounds weird. Crystal’s fine.”

Sanders paused for a moment, bringing his hands up to his chest and clasping them together. “William, Crystal, very well. How are your parents coping?”

“ Both of them are fine, ” William replied. “ I wish I could say I was surprised that neither of them flew in, but our father still has a business to run and our mother has been more busy with pageants recently. ”

Crystal groaned. “Honestly, I can’t believe them. Beth is dead. She’s dead and neither of them could be here. Hell, her death has been national news for weeks, and both of them-”

“ Crystal. You can rant later. There’s no need to bring Mr. Sanders into our family issues. ”

“... Of course.”

“You know,” Teddy said, “Neither of you had to come in for the funeral either. The only eulogies given were from NASA employees and the crew, and even Watney’s parents were unable to fly in.”

“I think that’s sort of unfair to them,” Crystal replied, lowering her eyes just a little. “Aren’t both of them a hell of a lot older than us? I mean, even older than our parents, ‘cause there’s no way I’m forgetting that. It’d be sort of weird to expect retirement age people to fly across the country. Anyways, it just meant a lot to actually be here at the service in person instead of just watching the whole thing on a screen.”

“ Not like this was uncommon for the two of us, ” William added. “ Both of us had money saved for when we were going to visit her after the mission. This just… moved the schedule ahead a little. ”

“Condolences for your loss,” a familiar voice retorted from behind him.

Teddy swiveled around. “Ah, Venkat. How are you doing?”

“To be honest, still running on coffee and four hour naps,” Venkat Kapoor retorted, eye bags still visible. “I see Mr. and Ms. Johanssen are still in the area?”

“ I know you didn’t hear, but our first names are fine, ” William replied.

Venkat maneuvered over to the edge of the sidewalk, getting out of the way of the rest of the employees. “Got it. Are you two planning on staying in the area longer?”

“Pretty much,” Crystal said. “The two of us both want some time to, you know, think about all of this.”

“Glad to see that some people can take a break,” Venkat deadpanned. “Here’s to hoping that we’ll be able to finish reorganizing in six months.”

“No time like the present to start,” Teddy replied, taking a step back.

“On that note, do you have a minute Teddy?”

“I suppose,” he said while adjusting his sleeves.

“I think it’s time for the satellite authorization,” Venkat suggested.

Teddy bit back a sigh. “This again? I thought you just complained about having too much work.”

Crystal shot an unsure glance at the two of them. “Should we leave now?”

“No,” Teddy replied. “This will be quick. You two can stay.”

Venkat continued undeterred. “It’ll be worth it though. Just think about it, there are still all of the supplies needed for a mission at the Ares 3 site. We can figure out what we need from just one or two satellites, and then we could prepare Ares 6.”

‘Hey Will,” Crystal chimed in. “What are they-“

“ Not now, ” he replied. “ If we’re going to stay here, let’s at least stay out of their conversation. ” He turned back towards the empty plot, motioning for Crystal to follow. She didn’t.

“The site was hit by a 175 kph windstorm,” Teddy asserted.

“But odds are the equipment handled it,” Venkat asserted back. “We don’t know what happened to the Hab, but the rovers were built to be sturdy.”

“Look. I can’t give you the satellites.”

“What’s the issue here Teddy? We have twelve in orbit right now, surely we can spare a few hours on one?”

“We need to start focusing on imaging Schiaparelli crater for Ares 4.”

“But we don’t need all twelve to focus on one site. Like I said, I can make do with just one.”

“The satellites themselves aren’t the issue,” he finished.

Venkat froze in confusion. “Then… what’s the real issue?”

“Venkat, we’re a public organization. Any picture we take will be accessible by the public.”

“So?”

“If we take any pictures of the Ares 3 site, we are going to take pictures of Johanssen’s and Watney’s bodies.”

Crystal made a subtle choking sound.

“Really?” Venkat replied. “You’re worried about a PR problem?”

“I’d choose your next words carefully Venkat,” Teddy said, voice sharp. “Keep in mind that there are two people who have a problem with taking a picture of the Ares 3 site right in front of you.”

“ Make that one person, ” William replied, having spun around. “ I’m not saying that I would enjoy seeing my sister’s dead corpse, but seeing the details on a human body from a satellite is essentially impossible. Especially if they were in space suits. ”

Crystal made a less subtle choking sound. “Are you-”

“ I’m positive. Not to mention, neither of us have to look at the pictures if we don’t want to. ” He then pulled out his hands, clasping them in each other.

Teddy turned towards William, just a little surprised. “While that may be true for Johanssen, keep in mind the fact that Watney’s suit was also breached with debris. It’s likely that there will be a communications antenna sticking out of his chest.”

“ If you really want to avoid the issue, just use an older satellite. If you use, say, MAVEN or SuperSurveyor 1, you could have enough resolution to see the Hab while also not being able to clearly see much else. ”

Teddy pressed on. “However, it won’t just be the two of you seeing these pictures. The entire media will gain access to these pictures, and the PR department has made it exceptionally clear that it wants to get over what happened as quickly as possible.”

“Well… if that’s your whole reasoning, I think it sort of sucks,” Crystal stated, looking down again. Her hands fidgeted while she spoke. “I want to see those pictures about as much as you’d expect, but at the same time, using only PR issues as the anti-justification seems a little dumb. I know from personal experience that the media will throw a hissy fit at anything, and the best plan is just to deal with it. Especially if the picture quality is already lowered. Anyways, I don’t know much about going to Mars, but won’t this move save, what? Millions?”

“Probably billions,” Venkat said.

Crystal sheepishly shrugged. “Look, like I said, I don’t want to see my sister’s dead corpse, but if this is billions of dollars of saving, I think I understand.”

“You know, we can take pictures of the Ares 3 site safely.” Teddy suggested. “If we wait a year, they’ll be buried under the sand.”

“A year?” Venkat asked. The look on his face practically spelled out his next comment.

“You can certainly wait a year,” Teddy replied. “Especially since we’ll be busy with the Ares 4 replanning in the meantime. This hypothetical Ares 6 mission won’t launch for over a decade.”

Venkat raised his right hand in protest. “Okay, I have an idea. You’ve seen how much the public has pulled together behind their deaths. Let’s say we start preparing for Ares 6 now, and we could frame the mission in such a way that highlights that we’ll bring their bodies back. It won’t be the focus of the mission, but definitely one of the key points. Crystal? William? Your thoughts?”

“You shouldn’t bring non-employees into this,” Teddy said, voice sharp.

“Hey, if they want us to bring the bodies back, then we can say it. If they don’t, oh well.”

“Aw geez,” Crystal replied, placing her hand on her neck. “Of all of the plans in the world, you just happen to choose a weird PR stunt involving her. Then again, weird can be fine sometimes. At the very least, I know she deserves better than being left on Mars.”

“ I certainly agree with this, and if our late sister was here, she’d agree with it too. I know it. ” William’s glare focused. “ She was never one to back down from science, or one to worry much about PR. My only personal concern would have been that returning her body twelve years later could make her death hurt a little more then. But Crystal’s right. She does deserve more. ”

Teddy thought for a moment. “Hmm… Venkat, we can discuss this more inside. I need some time to think about this, and we’ve already said plenty in front of them.”

“I suppose we have,” Venkat replied. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Crystal said.

“ Same, ” William retorted.

“But in the meantime, you might want to start getting to work on those satellite trajectories. I’ll give you an answer by lunch.” Teddy finally turned to walk into the main entrance.

Venkat followed right behind him. “Wonderful.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Mindy Park jotted down her final calculations for the MRO trajectory change, and then took a quick glance back towards the main screen.

Normally, the 3 a.m. shift at NASA was perhaps one of the most excruciatingly boring experiences in the world. When your job was to monitor equipment made to run itself, it was no surprise she had taken to counting ceiling tiles as a hobby. But after Sol 6, life had changed. Many of her higher ups suddenly had new tasks, and the allocation of manpower for said tasks had left the night shift relatively understaffed, so she actually had some work on trajectory calculations.

“Ughh,” she groaned. “Stupid headache.” Then again, doing advanced algebra at 3 in the morning running on only coffee probably wasn’t that much of an upgrade. 

Shortly thereafter, she spied a light that indicated that Venkat Kapoor’s request was done. The Acidalia Planitia request was odd, especially considering that the funeral for both Johanssen and Watney was yesterday, but his emailed reasoning of scouting the site for a potential Ares 6 mission seemed sound. Popping open the first image, she figured she’d take just a moment to take a scan. SuperSurveyor 1’s cameras were low quality, but still decent. She first noticed that the Hab was, in fact, intact. So Dr. Kapoor would be pleased.

But then she noticed something else. She put down her coffee mug, bringing her fingers to her computer screen.

For some reason, the solar panels were all clear? Maybe another storm cleared them after dust coated them on Sol 6, but surely a storm would have been more likely to make them dirty. And were those circles? Why were there circles next to the Hab? After a moment, she guessed they were the rover poptents, as from what little she remembered about them, they were circular. Why were they deployed?

Glancing over to the MDV, she leaned back in just a little concern. While the resolution was low, it was still high enough to pick out some parts missing from the MDV. And parts missing from the MAV as well? This was weird. She took the time to pull her glance away to a more barren part of the picture, before realizing said part wasn’t empty at all.

“What the fuck,” she muttered.

She quickly, okay, lethargically, doing tasks quickly at three in the morning was essentially impossible, opened up the NASA directory. A few quick keystrokes later, and she found Dr. Kapoor’s phone number. She suddenly had a very important call to make.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure you have no idea what this is about?” Crystal nervously asked.

“ I have no idea whatsoever, ” William asserted.

She let out a throaty noise that was far too loud for his tastes given it was six in the morning. “C’mon, you’re supposed to be the smart twin! That’s what we do!”

“ Just because I know more about space exploration doesn’t mean I know everything, ” he exasperated, accent clear as day.

It was, honest to God, a mystery as to why the two of them were summoned into NASA at 6 in the morning. Or, in William’s personal sysop terms, absolute hell. Still, he knew that NASA wouldn’t have summoned two people barely related to the agency at some ungodly hour for no reason.

As the duo strolled down the Johnson Space center corridor to the meeting room, he felt his own vision going blurry. Yep, it was definitely 6 a.m., and his body wanted to get some more rest. Maybe he could lean on Crystal. She probably wouldn’t mind.

No, wait. That was the sleep deprivation talking.

Once they approached the conference room, he could hear quite a bit of screaming. The chaos sounded mostly like three people doing their best to talk over each other.

“-any idea the magnitude-”

“One thing at-”

“Settle down-”

That was not a good sign.

“ Um, hello? ” he said while peeking his head around the corner, and seeing Dr. Kapoor, Dr. Sanders, and a woman apparently arguing at this horrible hour to be productive.

The woman was the first to notice him. “Who the fuck was the one to invite someone?”

“Montrose, stand down,” Dr. Sanders replied. “William, I apologize for the rude welcome. This is Annie Montrose, head of media relations, and for your knowledge Annie, I invited him. As Johanssen’s brother.”

“How the fuck is he here already?”

“ I was at the funeral, ” William said. “ Did you not notice? ”

“Fuck. There was way too much going on at that funeral for me to notice.”

“Don’t forget me!” Crystal asserted, carefully ducking past William in the doorway. “I heard all of that, so I presume this is something related to our sister. What happened?”

Dr. Kapoor cleared his throat. “As the two of you probably know, we started imaging the Ares 3 site this morning.”

Crystal quickly tried to get settled into a seat, with William not far behind her. “Just to reiterate, please don’t show me this picture. I don’t want to have to look at my sister’s dead corpse.”

“Actually,” Dr. Sanders replied, “something unpredicted has come up. You should look at it.” He then slid said photo across the table.

The hesitation in Crystal’s eyes was clear. “Again, I said-”

“I can assure you that your sister’s body is not visible in the photograph. You really should see it.” Dr. Sanders also gestured at the lone picture on the table for extra effect.

William slowly got settled into his seat. Well, if they had to work this early, he could at least be comfortable. Taking a glance over at the image, he at first didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was just the Ares 3 site. But there were just a few details that seemed a little… off. 

Then he noticed something even weirder. Crystal staring. Dumbstruck. Was he missing something?

Glaring at the top left corner, he found exactly what he was missing. A blurry, but visible, message made of red Martian rock.

WE LIVE

S 553

It was just then he regretted trying to get so comfortable.

The first words stumbled out of his mouth. “ I… what... ”

“Oh my God!” Crystal shouted in joy. “She’s alive! She must be alive. Even if Watney lived, there’s no way he would have put up ‘we’ if he didn’t also mean that Beth was alive as well!”

“ Crystal, ” he said, numb. “ I don’t think you understand exactly what this means. ”

“Uh… what? She’s alive, what else could we ask for?”

“ She’s stranded on Mars, and currently has a very limited amount of supplies. ”

Immediately, her smile dropped. She seemed to be fighting mentally over whether not to be happy that Beth was alive or scared because she might still die. Christ, he had to think about that too.

She really was alive. And that wasn’t even mentioning the other half of her message. S 553. The only explanation he could think of was that she suggested she could survive until Sol 553. How would that even work? Were there even enough supplies for two people to live that long still at the site?

Maybe he was overthinking it. Yeah, he’d go with that. He could research how many supplies were left at the site later.

“If you two would like more information, just know that there have been signs of tampering with the Ares 3 site,” Dr. Kapoor said. “Features such as clear solar panels and a partially dismantled MDV suggest that astronauts have tampered with it since Sol 6. Furthermore, as you two have reasoned, the ‘we’ almost certainly implies the fact that both your sister and Watney have survived.”

“Also, we will work on rescue plans for the two of them,” Dr. Sanders finished. “We only found this message earlier today, so as of now, there are no rescue plans yet. Do either of you have anything more to say?”

“I… ugh,” Crystal groaned. “I… need some time to think about this. Can we just leave you guys to sort out your NASA stuff by yourselves.”

She turned to face him, expression unsure.

“ I concur, ” William replied, already uncomfortable. “ I certainly need some time to think about this as well. ”

“Very well,” Sanders replied. “Are we ready for the media briefing at 3 p.m?”

“Hell no,” Annie claimed. “But we aren’t going to be any more ready if we wait longer.”

“In that case, the two of you can tune in to the broadcast then if we make any further developments. Will that be all?” Dr. Sanders raised his head at the end of his sentence.

“ That’s more than enough, ” William replied. “ Thank you for the reveal. ”

“I… uh…,” Crystal stammered. “Take care?”

“Alright,” Dr. Kapoor replied. “You two take care as well.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Stay tuned for the next media session, tomorrow at 10 a.m.,” Ms. Montrose said over the T.V., voice barely making its way over the cacophony of shouting reporters. “By then, NASA hopes to have at least started on the rescue mission plans.” The T.V. flickered off.

William, more tired than anything, let his shoulder slump. His chair creaked as he leaned back. He took a gaze over the whole hotel room, and subconsciously noted they’d probably have to make a decision about what to do. They certainly couldn’t stay in a hotel room for much longer, so they’d probably need an apartment or something. That could happen later.

He also seriously contemplated going back to sleep for another few hours.

Glancing over to his right, he could see Crystal still staring directly at the screen, remote limply hanging in her hand. The look in her eyes was sheer confusion. That she had no idea what to do.

“Oh God,” she repeated, for probably the twentieth time this hour.

“ Crystal, are you there? ” She ignored him.

“ Crystal? ” Nothing.

“ Starry? ”

She let out a gentle gasp, which slowly turned into the gentlest and saddest chuckle he’d ever heard. It was actually a little closer to heavy breathing.

Good. She always liked that nickname.

“Yeah Will, I’m listening now,” She leaned up in her chair. “There’s just a lot to think about.”

“ Cee, I’ve thought for a while about this whole situation, and I believe I have a few conclusions. Do you want to hear them? ”

“Sure.” The caution in her voice still hung over her words.

“ First, I do believe that her current chances of survival are relatively high. Keep in mind, she’s currently with her ship’s engineer, and she is already incredibly smart. I am almost certain she will be able to address any situation that could come up. ”

“Alright.”

“ Second, it seems likely that NASA will be able to get her supplies in time. Sol 553, I believe, is far enough away that a supply probe will be able to get to her in time. ”

Crystal’s eyebrows furrowed gently. “What’s a sol?”

“ It’s what they call a day on Mars starting from when she landed. In total, it’s a little under six hundred days away. ”

“Mmm,” she replied, without much banter. Yeah, that was sort of expected, given Beth’s current situation. She took a moment to run her hand around her neck, and the crinkling of her dress ruffled through the whole hotel room. He let the silence linger before she continued.

“Do… you have anything else to say?”

“... Yes, but you won’t like it. I had to think about it for a while, but I can not see two people stretching out the remaining supplies for over five hundred sols.” His eyebrows went up. “However, it would be possible for… um… one person to live that long with the remaining supplies.”

“Hold on.” She raised her hands into the air. “Doesn’t everyone agree that both of them are alive?”

“ Well yes. ”

“In that case, I don’t think one of them would just let the other die. And we’ve seen how much she cares about her friends. 

“ Do you have any evidence? ”

“I mean, wasn’t Watney the one she said she liked second to the Doc?”

“ ... Yes. ”

“In that case, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t let him die. Anyways, I thought he was also a botanist. If he’s got ferns or something growing they might just be growing those. Maybe.”

He stopped for a moment to process her claims.

“ I suppose we can hope. ”

“I mean, it’d beat dying. We both know that eating ferns is possible.”

“ You believe it, and for some reason Beth believes it too. ” He unconsciously shuddered. “ I’m still surprised that the Doctor never told you to stop. ”

“‘Cause he knew it was healthy, and now it’s saving her.” She smiled just a little. “You know, maybe this whole situation isn’t the worst.”

“ It’s still pretty bad, ” he mused. “ Especially since they said that they wouldn’t tell the Doctor. ”

“Wait, what?” Immediately, her smile dropped again. “I didn’t hear that part!”

“ Well, I unfortunately did. They said it was so the Ares 3 crew wouldn’t be distracted by the fact that they abandoned their crewmates. ”

Her discontent was visible. “I think that believing that your crewmates are dead is just a little worse.”

“ Well, unfortunately we can’t do much about their decision. NASA controls all communication with the Doctor and the rest of the Ares 3 crew. There is little we can do to tell him. ”

She sat back down. “That sucks.”

“ Well at the very least, Beth is now alive. That is a rather large improvement. ”

“Yeah, and from what I’ve seen from Watney, he’s a pretty nice guy. You think she’s in good hands?”

“ Well, she’s with an engineer. When your survival is based off of high tech equipment, you want an engineer. ”

“Good point,” she concluded, before choking out a sigh. “Let’s at least hope that she’s happy.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 43

“...and that’s why there’s no way in hell I could see myself dating Beck.”

“Holy fuck,” Mark said, dumbfounded.

Yeah, he could have made some ridiculous joke over her whole story with Beck, but that was just overkill. Fuck worked. It just worked.

“So in conclusion, yes,” Johanssen replied. “I do have history with Beck.”

“And somehow, you two managed to hide it for literal fucking years.” He stretched his hand towards the sysop. “How long were the two of you planning this?”

“It just sort of happened.” She shrugged, slightly shaking the bunk the two of them were perched on. “Honestly. He got into the Ares program, I found a job offer for working on the Hermes software, and then it turned out they were looking for sysops as astronauts. Fast forward three years, and here the two of us are. Before you ask, it was the Doc’s idea to pretend that we didn’t know each other. He thought NASA might split us up if it knew we had history. And I still have no idea how he managed to keep that down. He does suck at keeping secrets.”

Fuck, those two were ridiculous. Two childhood friends who somehow managed to get on a Mars mission together. Then again, the human computer in front of him and Beck, who was apparently doctor material for a solid thirty years, were probably the only two people who could have pulled it off.

“Holy shit,” he said, amused. “You actually called Beck ‘the Doc’!”

“No shit Sherlock,” she deadpanned, staring him in the eye. “I did say that’s been my nickname for him over literally my entire life, and the nickname both of my siblings use as well for him.”

“Just wondering, when you use your British accent, do you still call him that, or does it change?”

She let out a sigh of amusement. “I call him 'the Doctor' with my accent.”

“Could you show me?” His grin reached its normal shit-eating limit.

“Do I have to?”

“Oh c’mon, it’s almost like you somehow held onto this for a solid twelve sols more than you intended.” The sarcasm oozed from his voice. “Because somehow, over the earlier fifteen sols when you were, and I quote, ‘thinking about how to tell me’, you somehow managed to make no progress towards that whatsoever.”

She sighed, dropping her shoulders as well.

“ Fine Watney,” she stated with her accent, begrudgingly accepting. “If you really insist, then I repeat, the Doctor has basically been the closest person to a guardian angel throughout my entire life. He has been my closest friend, and, no offense, I truly can not see you surpassing him. ”

In all honesty, he probably should have realized she had an accent sooner. Taking into account that both her mother and older brother had a British accent probably should have tipped him. The only reason her sister didn’t have one was because, in Johanssen’s terms, she actually made friends as a kid and heard non-British accents. But Johanssen? Who was still a super shy nerd? Yeah, nope.

Although, that last part was certainly a challenge. ‘Can’t surpass Beck?’ They were going to be stuck here for four years together!

“Are you challenging me?” He raised an eyebrow. “So help me, if you’re saying I can’t figure out how to get closer to you, I’ll just figure out how to marry you.”

She let out a gentle snort, coughing once to switch out of her accent. “Sorry, but wouldn’t a marriage proposal sort of require me to accept? I might just reject you out of spite at that point.”

“Says the woman who kissed me on the lips.”

She leaned forward, pushing her hand down into the bed for support. “If you’re going to be that much of a shit over that kiss, do I have to do it again?”

“Who says I don’t want you to do it again?” He leaned forward rather unsubtly. In all honesty, he did want a do-over, just so he could actually experience it while, you know, actually realizing she was kissing him.

Just once. Nothing weird. That was fine.

She stared him down, unamused. “Dare I ask how many other women you tried to seduce in this way?”

“Uh, quite a few actually.” He tilted his neck to buffer out a few of the sores. “Although would you believe they all ended up rejecting me ‘cause they thought I was too nerdy?”

“I’m not surprised,” she said, leaning back into a more comfortable position. “I already knew you were a massive nerd.”

“All that means is I might have more of a chance with you,” he retorted. “You’re nerdier than anyone I know.”

“Pfft. Keep dreaming Watney. If there’s something in any world I suck at, it’s pulling off romance. I’ve lost three boyfriends and a girlfriend in a solid two months each.”

He let out a bark of laughter. Well, if she was going to break out her love life, he could bring out worse. “I’ve lost four girlfriends and two boyfriends all within three months each! And hell, my shortest time was under three weeks!”

“Who’d have thought that Mr. Talk with Everyone was so bad at romance?” she said, only a little sarcastically.

“Hey, it’s the scientific method. Try, fail, and keep trying until something sticks.” And nothing ever did stick. Eh, he could figure it out.

“Aaaand now I’m starting to see why all of your other lovers thought you were a massive nerd. You know, if you want to set a new low, you could try me.” She jokingly smiled. “I mean, I’m still friends with everyone else I dated, so I think it’d be the same from you.”

He held back a laugh. Dating Johanssen? Jeez, talk about ridiculous ideas!

But then again, he was stranded on Mars. There really wasn’t anything more ridiculous than that.

He smiled smugly back at her, standing up in the process. “You wanna try for under two weeks?”

“Eh,” she said, standing up to walk away as well. “Could be interesting. Only thing I wonder is how we’d hypothetically break up.”

“Oh I can already see it,” he asserted, grabbing some soil off of the ground. Hey, they were getting pretty damn close to covering the whole Hab in soil, and it wasn’t like bacteria minded being thrown. “I try to throw some dirt at you, and somehow hit your computer. Instant breakup.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nah. All of the laptops are pretty damn sturdy. Besides.”

She paused rather suspiciously. As a result, he unceremoniously dropped the dirt ball in his hand. Turning up, she saw her staring down a few feet away, staring down at the floor. Given that this was Johanssen, odds were she was thinking about doing something important, and was currently trying to figure out all of the consequences of her plan. So, she was almost certainly trying to prank him.

“Johanssen. What are you-”

His thoughts were immediately stopped by a dirt ball slamming into his left shoulder, flying apart after the impact.

From a fair distance away, Johanssen stared at him, body turned towards him, with a shit eating grin similar to his own.

“Besides,” she reiterated. “It’s only dirt. Sure, we might have added some shit to it, but I'm almost certain that it's not even a tenth of the soil mass.”

“Oh you fuck!” he exclaimed, excited if anything. “Was that what you were preparing?”

“Yep,” she chirped, bending down to scoop up some more dirt. “As long as we avoid the potato plants, we’ll be fine. To be honest, I half expected you to figure out I was preparing something and to dodge.”

“I was working on it!” he cried.

Johanssen scoffed. “Well, I guess you didn’t work on it fast enough.”

“Do you want to have a mud fight? ‘Cause if you’re asking for a mud fight, I will fuck you up!”

“Why should we not? You proposed it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to try to have a mud fight in 0.4 g?”

“Watch me stain your clothes with shades of brown that you didn’t even know were possible.” He cracked his knuckles in preparation.

“Keep dreaming Mark. Watch me dodge all of your throws.”

“How about we make this interesting?” He quickly scooped up some dirt from the Hab floor. “Whoever gets hit the most has to wash the clothes in that washing container we made.”

A devious expression appeared on Johanssen’s face. “Good luck Mark.”

He crouched down, ready to throw. “You too.”

Yeah, girlfriends were overrated. People who were willing to have mud fights with you on Mars? That was where it was at!

Chapter Text

SOL 50

Against all odds, Johanssen mused that the two of them were actually doing alright. The hydrazine was all burned, and now the two of them had more water than they knew what to do with. The dirt was doubled. The potatoes were growing. 

In short, things were actually looking up.

In the christened potato corner, Mark diligently worked on tending to the crop, while she did her best to aid him. After thirty-something sols of watching him, she was finally starting to understand. Hell, she actually did all of the potato maintenance on her own last sol, but both astronauts agreed that the person who should have been prodding the plants the most was the actual botanist.

She leaned on her hands towards Mark, careful not to slip in the soil. 

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I assume we’re fine?” she asked.

“Yep,” he happily retorted, running his thumb along the leaves of one of the plants. “Same as the sol, and the sol before that, and the sol before that. Just a little bigger ‘cause, you know, plants like to grow. I’d like to think that you don’t need my botany degree to know that.”

“I’d say this is boring, but then again, it’s probably a good thing that surviving has become boring.”

“Motherfucker,” he replied, spinning his head around in order to stare in her general direction. “Don’t you dare end up invoking Murphy’s law over this shit. I sorta want to have a sol where things aren’t too shity, you know?”

She carelessly shrugged. “Like I said, boring’s good.”

Mark let out a quiet breath. “That’s a little more like it. If this keeps up, we’ll be able to harvest them in two sols.”

“You sure?” she inquired, arching an eye towards the plants themselves. “I thought you said we needed something like sixty one sols for the potatoes to grow.”

“That would be if we wanted to grow full sized potatoes, but these are just going to be the seed crop.” He stood up, careful to avoid accidentally stepping on any of the plants. “This is good anyways, ‘cause we’ll be able to yield one last round of potatoes from the current plants.”

“If you say so,” she replied, standing up as well. “It’s going to be nice to finally have fresh produce to eat.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable sunshine. Keep in mind we’ll be eating potatoes for a solid three hundred sols.”

“Hey, let me at least enjoy this for one moment,” she replied, still smiling.

“But yeah, if you don’t have any other bright ideas, I have a pretty fucking big plan of my own.” He took a few steps towards the laptop storage area. “Big as in, ‘Holy fuck, why the hell do you think this is possible?’”

While still kneeling, Johanssen watched as Watney pulled out his laptop and clicked into a file. Curious, she carefully stood up to follow him.

“Oh? What is it?” She lightly dusted her pants, knocking any rogue dirt particles back on to the floor.

“Why don’t you waltz on over here so I can show you?” he said, now staring intently at her with a smile. Johanssen, already interested, eagerly walked towards him.

As the image quickly popped up, she quickly did her best to process what it was. It was a map of Mars with a multitude of jagged lines criss crossing over the entire surface. There were blue and green lines with each color forming a zig zag across the Martian surface.

She duly noticed that the two colors intersected over Acidalia Planitia, approximately where their Hab was.

“Hey, nerd central!” Watney said.

“Gimme another minute,” she retorted.

Johanssen deduced that these were plans for expeditions, and they were certainly further than the thirty kilometer range the rovers were built for. The fact that both colors started near the Hab surely wasn’t a coincidence. She looked at the end points for the blue and green jagged lines, and did her best to guess why they ended where they did. 

For the green one, she was lost. The green lines wandered roughly south before they seemed to end abruptly in Arabia Terra. However, the blue line seemed just a little more promising. She leaned in closer.  It narrowly passed through Mawrth Vallis, before carefully weaving its way around the dozens of craters before diving and stopping in one in particular.

Schiaparelli crater.

“Oh, wow.” She let her own comment hang in the air for a moment as she blinked. “You somehow found the one thing we could do that’s both more necessary and more ridiculous than growing potatoes on Mars.”

He grinned brightly.  “I suppose that means I don’t need to explain what this is?”

“More or less.” She squinted back towards the green lines. “The blue line is a path to Schiaparelli that avoids most of the craters, right where Ares 4 will end up.”

“Yep.”

“If I’m reading you right, you’re seriously suggesting that we should figure out how to get to Schiaparelli ourselves. As in, make the longest possible journey on a celestial body that’s not Earth. Ever.”

“You up for it?”

“Hell yeah,” she retorted. “Although, what’s the green line? It sort of just looks like you were testing how to make a path, but then why did you leave it on there?”

“I suppose even if you are a massive nerd, you wouldn’t have known those coordinates off of the top of your head.” He raised an index finger to the end of the green line. “This green trip serves a grand total of two purposes. First, it allows for us to test our shit over a distance that’s not quite as long as the trip to Ares 4.”

She stared back at him in confusion. “Couldn’t we just, you know, drive in circles near the Hab? We could test everything out while also remaining close enough to fix anything if it breaks.”

“Yeah. We could do that, but that path doesn’t take us right next to Pathfinder.”

She stopped for a moment.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” His smugness stretched with his grin. “Pretty fucking good idea if I do say so myself.”

Johanssen blinked, and then took in a sharp breath. “If I’m reading between the lines correctly, you plan on driving all the way to Pathfinder as a test, and then you’re going to try and fix the space probe that’s about as old as you.” 

She lowered both of her hands in unison.

“Mark. The fuck.”

“Hey, I’m an engineer!” He lowered his shoulders and slouched just a little. “Think about it this way- we can get back into contact with NASA while also preparing for the fact that we need to get both of our asses over to Ares 4.”

“Well… you do have a point,” she conceded. “Mostly ‘cause I don’t think NASA can workshop any way whatsoever of getting up 3200 kilometers.”

Watney pressed down on his laptop, closing it with a gentle click. “That was also part of my reasoning,” he amended with two hasty finger guns.

“Have you actually thought about how to modify the rovers to drive a few thousand kilometers?”

While she watched Watney’s thought process spin into motion as he gaped with an open mouth, she also tried to think. Immediately, the first possible option was to figure out how to carry the batteries from both rovers on one. Sure, this meant that there’d only be one usable rover, but at least it’d be more capable. 

“Johanssen. C’mon.” 

She focused back in on Watney, and found a solid unamused look that wasn’t on his face before. 

“In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been just a little busy tending to all of the plants for all of this sol. And for all of the other sols. It was enough of a fucking miracle that I could put this together and I’m still pretty fucking tired. Yeah, just saying.”

“Don’t worry Watney.” She took a quick step towards the botanist. “I’ll get my laptop and start workshopping a couple of plans. We’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

In response, Watney hoisted his own laptop up. “Care to make that both of us? The plants are fine for now, so I think I can spare the last hour in the day we’ve got on this.”

“Sure,” Johanssen said, reaching her hands towards him. “Just don’t slow me down Mark.”

“Too bad.” His scheming smirk beamed towards her. “I wanna watch some Scrubs with you.”

“No, we should work.”

“We have all of four fucking years to workshop this rover shit. Four fucking years! I think we can afford to slack off a little now.”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

Johanssen watched as Mark clamored into his bunk, one of the few choices for a workspace given how the soil was encroaching on every other surface in the Hab. Patting his hands around where he sat, he then flashed an eager expression at her.

“Care to join me?”

“Heh. Unconventional workspace Watney,” she retorted, kneeling on to the bed. “Didn’t we reserve a whole table just so we could have normal work space?”

“Nah, that’s for actually workshopping shit. Like hydrazine.” He opened her laptop while she settled in. “Anyways, why can’t we work on a computer next to each other?”

“Fair enough,” she replied, finally settling on the bed to the right of him. She cautiously attempted to lean on the botanist, only for him to lean back. Momentarily startled, she almost forgot to lean more to account for him.

“Woah.” 

She tried to balance out Watney’s leaning with her own. The botanist had since turned his head towards her, smiling at her face. Meanwhile the enthusiasm in his face was clear. 

“Are you blushing?”

“I… no.” She tried to ignore the blood rushing into her cheeks.

Watney snorted just a little, momentarily grinning just a little brighter. “Oh my fucking God, you’re absolutely adorable.”

“I’d say you’re embarrassing me, but unfortunately there’s no one around for me to be embarrassed about,” she mumbled.

Mark quickly opened a new page of notes. “If you’re still there, I’d just like to jot down a couple of notes I took from the rover specs. You ready?”

Johanssen did her best to stifle her blush.

“I guess.”

The next few hours sort of trickled by for her, and for Watney she suspected as well. All in all, he was a pretty damn nice person to work with. For all of the shit she gave him, at the end of the day he was still a hell of a problem solver. Yes, he was a smartass and rarely went five minutes without a snarky comment, but that was just who Watney was. Made planning interesting, at the very least.

He was warm. As much as she tried to focus or think about the fact that she really hadn’t ever been this close to Watney, she couldn’t help but think he was warm.

She glanced over at him, finishing up his thoughts. “So yeah, all in all, that’s ninety kilometers of driving a day. Any other thoughts?”

She stifled a yawn.

“Eh. All I’ll say is that we’ll need to leave in some power for life support,” Watney said while still staring at the numbers.

“But do you think the engineering part of the plan’s solid enough?”

“Well, there are no liquids or gases in this plan, so...”

She let out a light giggle as Watney leaned just a little closer to her.

“In all seriousness,” Watney continued. “This plan’s nice. MDV parachute straps for the batteries, some extra bracket shelves for the solar panels, space for Pathfinder on top of the rover, this plan has essentially everything!”

“The only thing I’ll admit that we’re missing is heating,” she lethargically said. “Yeah, the heater’s more power than it’s worth over these distances, but Mars is sort of… how do I put this? Too cold for life.”

Watney gently scoffed. “Well, do you have a better idea?”

“Sorta, but we’ll try it your way first.”

She tried to stifle yet another yawn, but failed. Out of the corner of her slightly closing eye, she saw the botanist looking at her with an oddly eager expression.

“Fuck,” he bluntly stated. “I guess that means no Scrubs for today, huh?.”

“What are you doing?” She leaned down on to the bed, letting Watney leave her line of sight.

“Sooo. Okay. I know this sounds ridiculous. But I think… ” She heard his knuckles lightly tapping from behind her. “We might want to try the whole sharing one bed thing.”

“Okay.”

Even if she had the energy to do so, she wouldn’t have turned to face him.

“Uh, just like that? For real?”

“I trust you Watney, and you did mention this a while back.” She snuggled down into the mattress doing her best to get comfortable. She gently wiggled her head to press down the pillow just right. “Anyways, we’re both pretty thin. Just stay on your side.”

“Uh… well. Okay. I had a whole whole argument prepped, but if you’re going to be like that… ”

“Do you snore?”

“Uh… nope.”

“Then we’re fine.”

She reasoned it out, and there was no reason they wouldn’t be fine. Watney was the nicest guy she knew. The only issue would have been him not shutting up long enough for her to fall asleep. He was a loud mouth, to say the least. But he wasn’t a very large man by any means, and she was smaller than even him. As long as he kept to his side of the bed, they could share it.

She heard him get up, and dazed off in the moment. She heard the click of the light switch, saw the sudden darkness from beyond closed eye sockets, and went just a little more limp. She still braced just a little for Watney getting back in. The other side of the bed soon erupted in a cacophony of creaking as Watney was almost certainly stumbling in. Gripping her part of the blanket, she did her best to remain in her comfortable position. That was until Watney’s leg came crashing into both of hers.

“Sorry, for a second I almost forgot you were in there!” he gently quipped. “Maybe we could find a better bed for you. Like, you know, a sock drawer?”

“Go to sleep before I can’t anymore,” she half threatened. “If I can’t, you get to deal with me open eyed for the rest of the night.”

“Alright, alright.” The rustling on Watney’s side of the bed finally died down to a few gentle creaks. 

Without further ado, Johanssen dozed off.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 51

Watney, from his side of Rover 1, held his section of the makeshift harness with one hand. Waiting for Johanssen to finish up, he focused on the newly pulled out rover battery, now sitting squarely within the two loops of the makeshift harness. “C’mon Johanssen, any day now!”

“Aaaand… there we go!” Johanssen retorted from the other side of Rover 1. He heard her stumbling from her side of the suit communications as he felt a distinct amount of tugging in the harness. “Pull it up now!”

With that, Mark carefully pulled up the battery, watching it gently swing. So far, so good. Once he figured the battery was at a reasonable height, he let go, waiting to see what it did.

The battery swung, but stayed level within the harness.

“How are we doing over there Watney?” Johanssen said while walking around the rover.

“This ridiculous jury rig approach you came up with actually worked! All I’m wondering is why we bothered mangling the MDV parachute for this harness when we have six square meters of spare Hab canvas to work with.”

She leaned against the rover. “I thought about that, but we don’t really need the MDV parachute for anything else. The Hab canvas, on the other hand has electromagnetic radiation shielding, as you know, so we have to use it in order to fix up the Hab. But we don’t need shielded harnesses.”

“Fair point,” he said with a grin.

“Also, I still haven’t forgotten that the MDV got the two of us stranded on this planet,” she briskly amended. “I can’t think of more poetic justice than mangling the whole thing just to survive.”

“Oh my fucking God,” he said amidst giggles. “How fucking spiteful can you be?”

“Just a little. But moving on, can you try fitting in the solar panels?”

“Oh. Right,” he said, turning to the stack of five panels on his left. He gently grasped the first one, tilted it more or less perpendicular to the ground with the long side down. After a quick turn, he carefully maneuvered around the dangling battery, and gingerly placed it on to two awaiting L shaped brackets.

“First panel secure!” he exclaimed.

“Looking good.”

“Second panel secure!” he said after quickly placing it in front of the first.

“Nice.”

“Third panel… fuck,” he finished, tilting his head.

The third panel wasn’t going to fit. Not only was it, due to leaning on the other panels, just a little too close to the swinging battery for comfort, there also seemed to be not quite enough space on the bracket shelf for another panel.

“Oh,” Johanssen said, her suit helmet tilted at the bracket panels. “Well, that still works. Fours shelves down below the rover with two solar panels each are eight panels. Combined with the seven on the roof, and you’ve got fifteen to work with.”

“Thanks for the simple math,” he replied. “So, all in all, our grand assembly has a wonderful fifteen solar panels and two full batteries, and should hopefully be able to pull off a solid ninety kilometers a sols. And with that, we might actually be able to run some missions.” 

“I call shotgun,” Johanssen proudly asserted. 

“Why the fuck should you get shotgun?”

“You have to go back inside. Those potatoes aren’t going to care for themselves.”

Watney shot Johanssen an unamused expression, and just pretended that she could see it through her own helmet.

He sighed. “That’s going to be you fucking excuse for everything isn’t it...”

“Weeell.” The hesitation in her voice was clear. “There’s… also another reason.”

“You want to search for Martians by yourself?”

A scoff gently came through his suit speakers. “Nope. I’ve got a plan or two about how to deal with the whole heating situation. First, I’ve got four layers of clothing on right now, and I’m going to see how long I can drive in the rover without the heater. If that works, cool. If not, I’ve got my secret special plan to heat the rover.”

“Oh? What’s the plan?”

“I’ll use the warmth of our hopes and dreams,” she sarcastically retorted.

Ah. Watney came upon two conclusions, that either her plan was super obvious or was absolutely homicidal, ‘cause she wouldn’t have hidden her lack of a plan if she didn’t have one. He could at least hope for the former.

“I’m trusting you with this,” he said, stepping over back towards the Hab. “Don’t fuck anything up.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to help me with the rest of the solar panels?”

“Oh, I would, but it turns out those potatoes aren’t going to care for themselves.”

A sharp intake of breath came from Johanssen’s suit, and a surge of smugness erupted in his chest.

Without further ado, Watney, quickly jumped into the airlock and ran the procedures he had done literally hundreds of times in practice. So, mostly just dozing off while he went through the motions. Once done, he darted over to the intercom system, gently pressing one of the conspicuous red buttons on the intercom.

“Ares 3 to Rover 1, I repeat Ares 3 to Rover 1,” he proclaimed over the intercom. “How’s the weather out there?”

“Eh, I think you know,” a familiar feminine voice chirped back. “The same absolutely freezing temperature in that same dull shade of red that screams ‘fuck you’.”

“Ah, the usual. How’s the test run going over there? Any alien bugs getting on your windshield?”

“Nope,” Johanssen replied, popping the p. “Pretty good, since we don’t even have windshield wipers on these rovers.”

“Nice. You have anything else to report?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll run just a few hours of a test run with our current setup. I’ll see whether or not four layers of clothing can beat the Martian winter. Which, I guarantee you, it won’t.”

“Hey! Can’t hurt to try.”

“Does freezing a little count as getting hurt?”

“Nah, assuming you’ll know when to come back in on your own.”

The speaker emitted a throaty sigh. “Well, I’ll run the rover trial out here for a few hours, and you can tend to the crops inside. So, the usual.”

“Got it,” Watney said, preparing to let go of the comms button. “If you make popsicles in that rover, save some for me!”

“I don’t have any bags to put them in, so I’ll have to carry them outside. So you get to deal with any Mars dust that gets on them.”

He would have snarked back, but he just let go of the speaker button. Oh well.

Getting back to the potato corner, he got settled back into his normal routine. Or, as close as he could. Johanssen had admittedly been inside with him for nearly every sol, so her absence today was interesting. 

And then the Pathfinder trip crossed his mind.

Fuck.

He mused that he really should have seen that coming. Pathfinder was a solid twenty sol round trip from the Hab, and the two of them wouldn’t have been able to both go together. Why would they? Not only would it be ridiculously cramped to stay in one rover together for that long, they’d also burn through twice the CO2 filters. A lot of sacrifice for something so simple as comfort.

He thought back to Johanssen, and yeah, she’d be amazing at helping with plans. Funny how she seemed to be a solution so much these days. She just made ideas without so much as batting an eye, impracticality or insanity be damned. And it was also part of her charm. It was, apparently, pretty fucking easy to disregard common sense when you were as smart as her. 

“Watney, I can’t feel my face.”

He blinked. “Oh,” he said to no one in particular. He silently thought NASA could have made that intercom button movable. Or maybe voice activated.

Scrambling over to the system, he quickly pulled together a response.

“Have you tried, you know, grabbing it with your hands? I think that might work,” he snarked.

“Honestly Watney, I don’t want to move my arms,” she responded, just a little desperately. “It’s really fucking cold in here, and I think my arms are going to go numb if I sit in here any longer.”

He chuckled a little. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t have let the California girl sit in the ridiculously cold rover. Obviously, without the experience of Chicago winters you don’t know shit about the cold.”

She let out a sharp scoff. “I already told you I knew the Doc. I visited him at his family house during the winter sometimes. I know what cold is! This is something else entirely.”

“Ehhhh… fine. Stop, and I’ll see just how cold you actually are.” And if he was right, she’d probably be quite a bit warmer than she claimed she was.

Taking the time to admire the potato plants from a distance, he waited until Johanssen came sprinting in towards him. Which was actually pretty fucking surprising given she was currently wearing four layers of clothing. 

“Johanssen what are you-”

And with that, she slammed into him, knocking him back into the intercom chair.

Holy fuck, she was cold! Her clothes felt like they’d been soaking in snow for hours temperature-wise, despite how dry they were. Her hands were worse. He got goosebumps right where she was gripping him on the back, and so he quickly tensed up. 

“Mmmm,” she grunted, only then lifting up her face. “Could you do me a favor and speak closer to my face. I need your warm breath.”

“What the fuck Johanssen?” he stated, barely like a question.

“C’mon Mark, you have breath. It’s warm. And don’t you dare tell me that this isn’t fucking cold.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, brushing the top of the sysop’s head, and also duly noting that her hair felt like a fucking wig thrown in a snow cone. “You really are a type of fucking cold that I didn’t even think was possible.”

“Grab my face. I want to be warm again, fuck personal space. Grab my face,” she said while shivering.

He drew in a sharp breath. Johanssen, desperate idea. Normal operating procedures for the sol.

Bringing a hand to Johanssen’s cheek,  he nearly winced back at just how cold she was. Nevertheless, he still firmly gripped her, and did so with his other hand as well.

He pulled Johanssen into his arms just a little more.

“So, I take it that it was just a little nippy in there?”

“Oh, you have no fucking clue. This is after two hours. Just. Two. Hours. Can we agree that we’ll need some extra heating in order for this plan to be practical?” she blurted out.

“Ahhhh, I guess that’s how the cookie crumbles, huh?” He gently lowered the sysop’s head onto his shoulder, where she apparently still wasn’t complaining.

“It was a dumb idea from the start,” she replied, muffled in his shoulder. “The only reason I didn’t bother to run the thermodynamic calculations on it was ‘cause I wanted to give you a little hope.”

“Nerd.”

He didn’t need to look at Johanssen’s face to picture the eye roll.

“If I’m remembering correctly, I think you mentioned something about another way of heating the rover,” he swiftly continued. “Does this plan involve hydrazine again?”

“Don’t be dumb Watney,” she punctually replied. “We burned all of it already, and anyways, it’d be hard to maintain a constant fire while driving.”

“I’d highlight the fact that we’d be setting a fire in a space even smaller than the Hab… but I get the feeling you know and just ignored that, didn’t you?”

“Eh, we could make it work.”

Classic Johanssen.

“No, going in depth, there are a few parts I need to get, but I think, in total, this plan is safer than the hydrazine.” Johanssen stood up, taking a moment to rub her two hands together, presumably for warmth.

“Oh…. fucking God,” he retorted. “Safer than the hydrazine!? Is that all you’re gonna say!” He unconsciously brushed his hair with his hand.

“Hey. Trust me,” Johanssen said while grinning back at him. “I know what I’m doing. After all, I wouldn’t be much of a nerd if I wasn’t that smart, huh?”

He clenched his fists together, gently.

“I’m almost fucking certain I’ll be rudely surprised next sol,” he finished, getting up with her.

Yep, she was hiding her plan. After all, ‘parts’ from around the area, certainly left quite a few interesting options open. That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you don’t just make heat. Energy doesn’t come from nowhere.

Then again, Johanssen breaking the laws of thermodynamics wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“Bethy Jo, the potatoes seem fine, and the whole Hab seems to be in shape. Can we finally get to the Scrubs episodes?”

She gently gripped his arm.

“Oh, back to that nickname, are we? That depends. Are we still on track to harvest tomorrow?”

“Yep,” he said, brightening his grin.

“Then sure, I’ll follow you. But just for that abomination of a name you’ve made, I will be scheming up a nickname for you. Be prepared.”

“Good luck sunshine,” he retorted. “It’s not as easy as my wonderful diplomatic skills make it look.”

The two of them grabbed Beck’s laptop, and sat down in one bunk to watch some Scrubs. After only a little squirming, the two of them settled in, shoulder to shoulder. Leaning only a little on each other, Watney watched the medical comedy distantly. It was no Doctor Who, but it was fine.

Eventually, after at least half a dozen episodes, Johanssen blurted out an esoteric comment.

“This really is hard.”

“Ah, we’re in bed next to each other, and you just happened to say that,” he joked. “Is this the part where I pull off my shirt?”

She accusingly glared at him, which he took in full stride.

“No, not that,” she replied with a gentle touch of frustration. “Coming up with a decent nickname is hard.”

“Ah, you finally see.” He gave Johanssen a gentle head tap. “This isn’t a skill you can half ass, you have to think about it. Use your charm!”

She let out a breath of surprise. “Ah, I think I figured out the problem.”

“Oh, don’t you dare complain about not having fucking charm! Your mom’s a fucking supermodel and your sister’s a supermodel too! Taking into account just a sprinkle of basic biology, you’ve got at least half the genes of a supermodel. Probably fucking more. Just use those.”

Johanssen’s face quickly went red at that remark.

“Oh, come on,” she said, looking away while grabbing the back of her neck. “I’m a lot of things, but charming? Get real...”

“Well, you are charming.” He turned his head and body towards her while she slowly looked back towards him. “Your eyes? The best fucking shade of brown I’ve ever seen. Your smile? There’s always something in it that just makes it always look so real. And that’s not even mentioning your boobs-”

“And I think we’re done here,” Johanssen replied, blushing like a tomato while back at him with probably the most flustered expression she could muster. “Jeez, you really see all of that in me?”

“Fuck yes.” He straightened his back. “Yeah, I can see why your sister’s hot, but you have your own special nerd charm.”

Watney pulled Johanssen closer still.

“Oh God… is it weird that I’ve, like, never heard anyone say that stuff about me? Everyone I’ve dated mostly just does it ‘cause we have shared interests, but never due to me actually being good looking,” she rambled.

He let out a bark of surprise. “Are you shitting me?”

She shrugged, face still a dull shade of red. “Nope. This just doesn’t happen to me.”

“Well, news flash Johanssen. You’re pretty, and smart, and absolutely fucking amazing! A solid ten if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I- uh… ” she stammered, glancing to the side. “You’re goofy. And fun to be around, and your jokes are actually pretty funny...”

“Why, thank you for the compliment,” he snarked. 

Johanssen, still blushing, buried her face into her hands. She let out a gentle groan.

“Although, has no one ever given you an actual compliment? Seriously?”

“You know me,” she replied, voice muffled by her hands. “I don’t make friends, and the friends I do make are about as shy as me.”

Mark arched an eye. “Your siblings? Beck? C’mon, they must’ve given you something?”

“Funny,” she said as she raised her head, face back to normal. “I don’t think you get how siblings work. You don’t tell them how cool they are; you banter with them. Being that direct’s just sort of weird. And while Beck isn’t my actual sibling, he is, for all intents and purposes.”

“Really? Not even when you’re having a bad day?”

She snorted, reluctantly smiling. “When you’re having a bad day, you joke with them to get them out of their slump. Now, where have I seen this before… ”

“Ah, I get’cha,” he smirked. “You’re saying I’d be a great older brother.”

“No no no,” she shot back. “Older siblings are the best when they’re, you know, responsible.”

“Oh, fuck you Johanssen,” he boldly proclaimed.

“Don’t worry,” she said while leaning back. “I think you’d still make a great younger sibling. All of your jokes and what now.”

He arched an eye towards Johanssen. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“How the hell is it not?” she sharply retorted. “I’m a younger sibling!”

He took the time to lean back with her. Glancing over at the laptop, he saw it was pretty fucking late. While 24 hour days sort of broke when you had over 24 hour sols, measuring from sunset to sunrise was the most reasonable way to tell the time. So with the computer claiming it was over four hours after sunset, it was pretty clearly time to sleep.

“Alright, it happened once before, it’d be nice if it worked twice.” He glanced over at her lying down. “I think it’s time for bed. Are you actually ready to sleep, or are you gonna fight?”

“Well, mark it down as one and a half,” she responded. “I still have the energy to do something, but I’m honestly too comfortable to get up.”

With that, Watney briskly grabbed the laptop and marched over to put it away.

“So, just wondering...” he began. “Are you still fine with the two of us sharing a bed, or are ya kicking me out?”

“Um. Well… ” she stuttered. After plugging in his computer and turning around, he could see the beginnings of a blush on Johanssen’s face. “I… know this sounds weird, but could you sleep closer to me tonight?”

He momentarily stopped walking towards her.

“Uh, is this a date?”

“No, no no no,” she stammered, getting up. “It’s just...”

“Just what?”

“Just… it’s sorta embarrassing.”

“Did you like doing it when you slept with Beck?” he asserted, grinning like a madman.

He didn’t think someone could go from blushing to pale quite as quickly as she did.

“I- When did you see THAT!?”

“On the Hermes. But don’t worry Johanssen, my lips were sealed.”

What a way to tell her, he thought. Oh, how weird that was. Walking to bed after spending far too much time making sure all of the ferns were planted right side up. Oh, the wonders of space botany! Going to sleep already knowing that the next mission day was going to be shit just due to a lack of sleep, and seeing the door to Beck’s room just a little ajar. Sneaking a peak, only to find Beck holding Johanssen in bed like a plush toy.

He wondered if he could do the same thing to her.

“I… yeah,” she confessed. “I occasionally slept with the Doc on the Hermes, and I thought we were flying under the radar. He did say he woke up at, like, four in the morning just to avoid Martinez and to shift me back to my room. It was nice. Warm.”

“Are you saying I’m as close to you as Beck?” he grinned.

“I- Don’t make me pick between you two,” she said with a weak smile.

Quickly flipping the light switch, he slowly made his way into bed, this time just a little more knowledgeable about how much space Johanssen took up in bed. After managing to not kick any lingering legs, he pulled the covers over himself and snuggled up right next to the sysop.

“So, just confirming, you somehow think this is fine?”

“Yep,” she lethargically replied.

“You are fully aware that normal friends would say that this is stepping over quite a few fucking boundaries, right?”

“News flash Watney: I don’t make normal friends.” She flipped onto her side, staring him in the eye. “Exhibit A: the Doc.”

“The feeling’s mutual then,” he replied. “You are the weirdest friend I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks,” she said, snuggling up into Watney’s personal space.

Her warmth was definitely something new. Yes, they’d been close, but lying right next to each other was another matter entirely. But, at the same time, it was nice. Comforting. Attempting to throw an arm over the sysop, he came to the conclusion that it felt wrong. Not that he was too close, but that it felt off. Okay, so encroaching all over her was off the table. With that, he picked his arm back up, and instead leaned in towards her. Gently, of course.

That felt more natural.

“Hmm,” she grunted.

“Ya’ got to say?” he asked.

“This is just… different.” She wriggled around just a little on her side of the bed. “The Doc sort of grabs me when we’re together. Like I’m some kind of teddy bear. You’re different.”

“I dunno, that just feels weird. Like I’m going a little too far.”

“I actually like your way more,” she said as satisfaction appeared on her face. “It feels more… like we’re equal.”

“Equal?”

“I like the Doc, but he’s super protective, and it’s nice to know someone cares about you,” she said. “But at the same time, he’s always been the protector and I’ve always been the one he worries about. I can count the times I’ve had to worry about him on one hand.”

Watney made a mock surprised face.

“Doctor Bossy Beck is Bossy! Who knew it?”

“Hey, it’s nice to have someone who cares about you like that, but at the same time, this is nice. You’re not coddling me. I know you believe in me, and that anything that happens is mutual.”

That was an interesting way of putting things. Mutuality. He knew everyone sort of coddled her, even at NASA. Being a decade younger than almost everyone on the crew was a hell of a social stigma. But if he was as smart as Johanssen, as capable as her, and everyone he knew was fiercely protective of him… 

He could be her equal.

“Yeah, mutuality,” he repeated. “Sounds pretty fucking good. So, why don’t we just ignore whatever the fuck our relationship becomes and just claim that we’ll be mutual in it?”

Johanssen’s eyes drooped as her shoulders lost their tension.

“Sounds good Mark.”

He raised an eye, suddenly just a little more awake.

First names were not something that happened at NASA. You used last names because everyone and their mother always lectured about. Yeah, they used them on occasion, but there was an extra tenderness in her voice that he knew NASA would have had issues with.

But he certainly wasn’t fucking NASA.

“Heh. Night Beth.”

“Night.”

Chapter Text

SOL 52

Watney couldn’t help but admire his handiwork. Really, he couldn’t. It was a hell of a fucking miracle the potato plants turned out as well as they did. The bushy green leaves on the plant were straight out of a dream, and the tubers themselves were nice and healthy. Gripping the stem in one hand, he gave a solid tug to the last potato clinging to the plant. 

He was impressed. Sure, you were supposed to yield up to ten potatoes per plant, but that was for actual seed crops. Not potatoes shipped to fucking Mars. Then again, if all of that micromanaging hadn’t been this successful, he would have ripped his own head off.

It was still quiet. Johanssen hadn’t said anything for a solid three hours since she went out to modify the rover, which was just a little concerning. Just a little. Not even a quip from the intercom. She was doing something insane. Her project was apparently ‘tender’ in her own words, and ‘she’d have to stay focused in order to make sure nothing went wrong’. A plan he still knew fuck all about. 

He gingerly buried the plant in his hand back into the divot it came from. Well, he had enough of going along with whatever the fuck she was doing. After all, a peek couldn’t hurt, right?

Famous last words, he mentally snarked to himself before going along with his idea anyways.

Dropping off the last six potatoes onto the open table, now laden with over a hundred spuds, he quickly set out towards Airlock One. He quickly boarded his EVA suit, and shortly after he hit the airlock decompression button and set out for the rover.

It was pretty fucking easy to spot. The rovers were by no means built to be hard to see, and that wasn’t even mentioning the ridiculous shelves the two of them had added to the sides, along with the ever so slightly wobbling tower of seven additional solar panels on the roof. So the amped up rover, solar panels, saddle bags, and all, was easily visible trundling over to his right, over the red flat Martian ground.  

“So sunshine, are ya ready for me?” he piped over the intercom. 

While the comms hissed with nothing but static, he saw the rover screech to a stop. He guessed that was his cue to tumble aboard. He strolled on over to the airlock, hit the control panel, and gave the rover a minute to cycle.

Immediately, warmth flooded into his suit.

Like, not just the normal amount of warm, but a sweltering amount of heat. Like Johanssen actually did figure out how to burn hydrazine in the rover. But she couldn’t have. They didn’t have any more hydrazine, they burned all of it for water. Unless… 

No, that was ridiculous. After all, she did say it herself that burning hydrazine in the rover would be pretty fucking impractical, and he had to agree with her there.

He quickly pulled off his helmet while clambering further inwards.

“Heh, guess we’re doing this now, aren’t we?” Johanssen’s voice carried over from the driver’s seat as he clambered a little further in. The hint of nervousness in her voice was visible along with the fact that she wasn’t staring him in the eye, probably a sign of just how bad whatever her plan was.

“Yep,” he asserted, walking up to the front seats with an accusatory glare ready. “No more fucking hiding.”

She sighed, and that segwayed into her reluctant smile.

“Okay, I know you might think that this idea is insane, but keep in mind-”

“Didn’t I just fucking say no more hiding? Do I need to add stalling to that list too?” he snarked.

“I… uh… ” He took a moment to look at her, and there was certainly an extra amount of indecisiveness that wasn’t even on her face when she told him about burning the hydrazine. She eventually glanced away, guilt visible on her face.

“Johanssen?”

“Look behind you.”

With that, Watney swerved his head over his left shoulder with an odd mixture of curiosity and concern bubbling within his chest. He didn’t see anything at first. It wasn’t like the two of them had any reason to overhaul the inside of the rover yet. However, he did eventually spy an object sitting in a passenger seat.

For a second, he had no idea what it was. It was just a large piece of metal, and with a quick step forward, he determined that the odd contraption was, in fact, the source of all of the heat within the rover. There was just something so familiar about it.

Realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

He knew what that shape was. He had seen it before. In games. In pictures. Common sense told him that there was exactly one object that would be roughly cylindrical with perpendicular plates lines across its lateral surface.

The RTG.

“JOHANSSEN, WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The words more or less left his mind before he could think, or even swerve his head to direct his voice at the sysop. He eventually did so, only to discover her staring back with a reluctant grin.

“I… on the bright side, we’re warm, right?”

“WELL!” he exclaimed, trying to take a moment to calm himself down. “I mean YES, but why the FUCK would you think this is a good idea!? It is a box of FUCKING PLUTONIUM!”

Johanssen let out a gentle snicker. “Don’t forget Watney, you’re talking to the reactor technician for the Hermes. If you want to try and get me worked up over a radioactive isotope, be my guest.”

He paused for a moment, letting out an unconscious groan. “‘Safer than the hydrazine’, my ass,” he mumbled.

“If you’re willing to give me a moment to talk, can I at least tell you the parts of this plan that aren’t dangerous?” she suggested.

He rolled his eyes in response. Not dangerous, RTG. Pick one.

“Okay, keep in mind that the RTG has two layers of radiation protection,” she started. “One in the casing itself, and another in the plutonium pellet casings. As long as we’re careful not to damage either of them, we should be fine.”

He shot an accusatory stare at her. “I just want to take a moment to highlight your ‘should’.”

“Look. I get it,” Johanssen said, her brown eyes going firm. “Messing around with radioactive isotopes is pretty damn dangerous, and if there was literally any other way for us to heat the rover, I would welcome it with open arms. But the laws of thermodynamics are a bitch, and as a result this is the only possible plan. Anyways… if you’re still concerned, I sort of have an addition to the plan to make it more safe.”

“Oh my fucking God,” he groaned. “I swear, if you’re not going to tell me this other one-”

“No. No, no!” she stammered, throwing her hands up. “It’s simple. We can bring in the spare Hab canvas we have.”

“Wait, what would that do?”

“Don’t forget Watney, the Hab canvas has electromagnetic radiation shielding built into it. While it is made for shielding against space radiation due to Mars’ whole lack of a magnetic field, it can still shield from Plutonium!” she finished with conviction.

“Shield- ah,” he stated.

He went silent for a moment in thought. 

“Wait. Let me get this straight,” Watney said. “You came up with this almost homicidal idea, figured out a solution that completely negated how homicidal it was, and then decided to implement only the homicidal idea without the solution!?”

She awkwardly glanced away in response.

“Uh, you might need the Hab canvas here, in case the Hab breaches?”

“Johanssen, if the Hab breaches, we’re fucked. Dead potatoes and dead us, ‘cause we’d be sitting around without our suits. What’s your real answer?”

Turning back towards him, Johanssen blinked, letting the silence sit for just a little too long. “Not gonna lie, that sounded like a much more reasonable answer in my head when I came up with it.”

“Tsk,” he grunted. “Sometimes, I just don’t get how the fuck you think.”

“Actually, I might have been on to something,” Johanssen muttered under her breath before clearing her voice. “Isn’t it plausible that the hab might breach when the airlocks are being used?”

“Uh, I guess?” he responded. “But that’s still exactly what I said, a fucking guess.”

“My point still stands that it’s reasonable for the Hab to breach while we’re in our suits,” she finished with a shrug. “We shouldn’t be using the Hab canvas unless it’s necessary.”

“I think I’d call this necessary,” he asserted, pointing a hand towards the RTG. “It’s currently a radioactive box of death right now, and if it breaks you might just get fucking stranded with the most dangerous thing on the planet! You need the Hab canvas.”

Johanssen dropped her shoulders, letting out a deep breath.

“Okay, how… about a compromise?” she muttered before clearing her throat. “We can keep the Hab canvas on the rover, but we’ll keep it in one piece just so it can still be pretty useful.”

“This sounds less like a compromise and more like a full concession to me, but I’ll take it,” he said with a smug grin.

“But,” she amended, holding her finger in the air, “I think should probably turn Rover 2 into something like a mini-Hab.”

“A mini-Hab?”

“Basically, just a place that sits still for us to live in. Since we already yanked out its battery, we can’t really do much else with it. So even if the Hab breaches, we’ll be able to bunker down for repairs if needed.”

He took a moment to think, cocking his head in response.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s actually a half decent idea. With the rover chargers, we can just hook it up directly to the Hab batteries so we can still power the life support at night. And, you know, while we’re at it, we might as well store our seed crops in the Rover as well.”

“I’d like to think you’re on the ball with this, but no offense, after the hydrazine debacle I just want to say this to be sure,” she said, finally turning around in the driver’s seat. “This would actually be a pretty good way of keeping a safety crop in case the Hab breaches.”

“Don’t worry Johanssen,” he punctually responded. “That’s one good part of this plan, but it could still get fucked if the rover breaches. But yeah, I think we can just store an emergency crop in both the Hab and the rover in case any breaching issues occur. But they won’t, ‘cause I’m the best fucking engineer on the planet and I can confirm that the Hab’s a-okay.”

“Do I need to slap you?” she joked back. “Let’s not make a mistake just because the best engineer on the planet couldn’t help but be cocky, now won’t we?”

“Well, fair enough,” he said, before pulling at the hem of his shirt. Holy fuck, that RTG was putting in work heating up the rover. “Also, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?”

“It’s not just you Watney,” she responded, wiping sweat off of her brow. “It’s hot in here. The insulation’s doing way too much to keep the Rover warm. Do you know how to get rid of insulation?”

“Just rip it off.”

She shifted in her seat, confusion appearing on her face.

“Uh, what?” she replied.

“Okay, let me elaborate. Is there a hammer in here?”

“Yeah, next to the RTG.”

He scrunched his face at that remark while turning to dive towards the tool box on the floor. “Fuck me Johanssen. Why the fuck did you put it THERE of all places!?”

“I left it there in case I might have needed anything when excavating it, and it just so happened that I put the RTG in that seat.”

He rolled his eyes as he dove next to the burning hot hunk of metal, reaching into the toolbox for a hammer.

“Actually, how the fuck did you even find the RTG? You were inside when the commander disposed of it.”

She snorted briefly. “Funny story. I poked around at the Sol 0 mission procedures, and read that the commander dropped it off four kilometers away from the Hab. You’re right that I didn’t know the direction, so I basically went in a circle around the Hab until I found the flag by it.”

“Heh. Driving towards the flag we were told, under all circumstances, to stay the fuck away from!” He let out a bark of laughter. “I wish I could say I was fucking surprised, but I’m not.”

“Hey. Desperate times, desperate measures, and apply that about a hundred fold to our current situation,” she asserted.

“Well, anyways, take this hammer here,” He tilted the claw of the hammer towards the nearest section of wall. “And do something like this.”

He slammed the hammer into the wall, ripping up the plastic in the process. Johanssen led out a gentle gasp in response. Then, briskly groping the plastic, he ripped it off, exposing the grey foam within.

“And this foamy stuff here in the rover is the insulation,” he said, using his free hand to gesture at it. “Rip it off with the hammer again, and repeat the process until you think the rover’s fine. That make sense?”

“Ah, got it,” she responded, getting out of her seat. “I can work on that in here, and you can get back to your potato work outside. Unless… ”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m nowhere near done, I was just getting a little fucking concerned with whatever you were doing with the rovers. And apparently, I should have been concerned just a little earlier,” he finished with narrowing his glance at her.

“Like it or not Mark, this is the plan,” she said while he handed her the hammer. “And don’t worry, as long as we don’t something stupid like using the drill on the RTG, we’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” he said while wiping the sweat off of his brow. “By the way, do you want me to drag the RTG out? It’s already a fucking sauna in here, and I don’t need you boiling alive.”

“Oh, that’d be great,” she said while lining up the hammer near the wall. “After that, you can just go back inside. I can drag it back in when I need it.”

“Got it Johanssen,” he replied while grabbing his helmet.

He quickly pulled his helmet back on and then grabbed the RTG, which was almost followed by him immediately backing off from it. Yep, definitely very hot, even from inside his own EVA suit.

Johanssen snickered from outside his suit, as she slammed away at the plastic wall. He would have flipped her off in response, but suit mobility, especially in the hand mobility department, left a lot to be desired.

Trying once more, he hoisted the RTG into the air with his hands before sauntering over to the airlock, and slamming his back into the cycle button. Once the airlock did its thing, he carefully balanced the RTG as he walked out, and lowered it onto the cold Martian dirt a few meters away from the rover.

Taking a step back, he narrowed his eyes at the device, before whispering an almost unconscious fuck. To think they’d actually have to use a radioactive lump of plutonium to survive. It almost seemed counterproductive.

He trudged back towards the airlock. He had work to do.

The gentle whir of the airlock was exactly what he was waiting to hear. Lying back on the one remaining bed while Johanssen fiddled with the rover insulation, Watney already had his first comment prepared.

“Watch the potatoes!” he exclaimed with a smirk as the airlock opened.

Johanssen fumbling with her EVA suit, didn’t respond immediately. Nevertheless, she did manage to pull off her helmet and suit, hanging them up on the suit rack as per usual.

“Uh, right,” she responded, turning to face him. “If you had to plant all of the potatoes, we can’t have that much leftover space. Where are they?”

“See all of the dirt around in the Hab?”

“Uh, yeah?” She glanced over the entire Hab space, now laden with dozens of potato humps in rows. 

“If you see a lump, that’s where a potato is planted,” he snarked. “Don’t step there.”

She took another glance at the entire Hab floor in response.

“Um, Mark?”

“Yes?”

“There are lumps everywhere.”

He didn’t say anything, but instead let his grin do all of the talking. Johanssen looked at him in anticipation, before realization dawned upon her.

“Oh,” she softly replied, shoulders going down. “I should’ve expected this. After all, it wasn’t like using literally every square meter of space in the Hab meant there’d be room leftover, huh?”

“You got that right Beth,” he replied, unconsciously nodding. “But hey, just pretend it’s like a really shit version of Martian hopscotch. Or something.”

“At least the rows make it a little easier to navigate,” she said while stepping in between two of said rows of potatoes. Did you plant them this way so we could get around easier?”

“Nah, that would’ve been way too much foresight on my part.” He quickly twisted his head, loosening his neck. But no, that was just a wonderful little feature of how you’d normally plant potatoes.”

She briskly nodded, stopping in front of his bunk. “You want to grab some dinner now? It is almost sundown.”

“Oh? Is this a dinner date?” He got off of the bed on the side closest to her, while she rolled her eyes.

“Pfft. I sleep next to you at night Watney, if you want to try and embarrass me, you’re going to have to step up your game.” 

He held back a snicker. He wasn’t actively trying to mess with her, but if she insisted, who was he to deny her?

“Well then, Johanssen… ” He grabbed her right shoulder, and threw on his best seductive smile. Immediately, her resolve plummeted from her eyes.

“Uh, Watney-”

“Do you wanna go on a… ” He threw in a solid wink in the process. “Date?”

Johanssen’s face briefly lit up in concern, before shifting into confusion and settling on her resting poker face.

“... That was the shittiest offer for a date I’ve ever heard,” she deadpanned with only a light smirk.

“Oh c’mon,” he said, fluttering his eyelids. “Don’t you just feel my wonderful charm overwhelming your senses?” 

She scoffed, gently lifting his hand off of her shoulder. “You have charm, but it’s definitely not like this.”

“Riiiight,” he drew out. “You’re a nerd, so I have to seduce you like a nerd too.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny how nerdy I am, all I’m saying is that a solid half of your charisma comes from your nerdiness in particular, so you might want to try and use it.”

“Do you accept?”

She rolled her eyes, taking her time to pull her attention back to him. “Even if I did reject you, it’s not exactly like I could eat a meal without being next to you. There’s only so much space in the Hab after all.”

“Just sayin’, I’m not hearing a no from you.”

“Uh,” she groaned, glancing away once more while pulling his hand along with her. “Let’s just go get whatever you’ve got cooking now.”

He couldn’t help but grin. Even if Johanssen said she rejected, it had to count for something that she was still holding his hand.

As the pair weaved across the newly sowed potato Hab, they made their way to the kitchen area, where Mark grabbed the potatoes he conveniently placed and washed beforehand and placed them in NASA’s glorified martian microwave. Waiting with all of the elegance of a couple of awkward college students, a damn good metaphor given how young the sysop next to him was, he pulled out the heated potatoes, and dragged Johanssen to the last open table for their meal.

As she let go of his hand to sit down while he placed the potato laden plate in the middle of the table, he couldn’t help but think that whatever he did with Johanssen, it worked.

“Watney?” she asked cautiously, eyeing up the ketchup bottle on the table. “Did you pull the ketchup bottle out?”

“So what if I did?” he snarked back.

“Were you… thinking about using the ketchup already?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Oh my God. Watney, don’t.”

Silently, he mused that she seemed more concerned with the ketchup than she had sounded during the RTG reveal. He bit back a sigh. Seriously, her priorities could be so fucking weird at times.

“Okay, let’s put it this way.” She threw her arms into the air in response. “At least half of our food supply is going to consist of potatoes, right?”

“Right...” he drew out.

“And obviously, ketchup’s going to go great with potatoes, right?”

“No, I brought out the ketchup to make them taste more shit,” Watney sarcastically replied. He grinned, grabbing the potato nearest to him.

“All I’m saying is that we might want to actually make a half decent effort to conserve the ketchup.” She then pulled the red bottle towards herself. “And Watney. I’ve seen how you add ketchup to fries back on Earth. Hands off of this stuff.”

“Oh, alright you little nerd,” he said as the edges of his lips curled up. He took the opportunity to bite his potato, and yep, definitely a potato.

On cue, Johanssen started eating herself, and the duo worked their way through the baked tubers. He silently mused that he could have grabbed some forks or something for these, but nah. They were already here, and the potatoes were all on one plate in the middle of the table. This was fine. Basically just eating a bunch of really thick potato chips.

To his complete lack of surprise, he finished his portion of the meal before Johanssen. As he scarfed down the last bite of his third, she was still taking gentle nibbles on her last potato. Licking his lips, he glanced over at her.

“You want me to tell you how it’s been in here while you eat, or do you want me to wait?”

She gingerly swallowed. “You can talk first while I finish up.”

“Got it. As you can see,” he said, throwing an arm out to his side, “I’ve decked the entire Hab out in this wonderful potato farm.”

She gently nodded, taking another bite.

“So yeah, along with the Hab floor, like we said, I also managed to set up the pop-tents with their farms, and have all of the bunks decked out too. Only thing I’ll bitch about was that bringing soil into the pop-tents was about as fun as it sounds.”

Mark let out an involuntary shudder. Fuck, walking back and forth between the pop-tents in the airlock every sol was going to fucking suck.

“So, our grand total of plants is at a solid 451,” he finished. “I know we agreed on 452, but c’mon Beth, the more we cram into any random corners we have, that’ll just leave us growing shitty plants. We need high crop yields.”

Johanssen temporarily dropped her final potato. “Hm… I think that’ll be fine. No matter what, I’m still running the numbers again, but I think that’s close enough. You make a fair point anyways.”

“So, how’s the plutonium powered deathtrap you’ve got running?”

She rolled her eyes in amusement. “It’s going fine Watney. I followed your instructions, and I’ve got a decent temperature in the rover, with just a little bit of extra messing around. The only thing is that I was too busy to go grab the Hab canvas-”

“Oh fuck me Johanssen!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t we agree to that!?”

“Look,” she asserted defensively. “It’ll be fine for a few sols-”

“We’re still working with plutonium,” he sharply countered. “We’ll be far better safe than sorry. Finish up, and then we can go bring the Hab canvas over.”

With a quick glance at her last potato, she deftly grabbed and swallowed it in one bite. He couldn’t help but smirk as she tried to chipmunk the last part of her meal.

“Actually… there’s just one last thing I want to talk about. Promise.” She gently got out of her seat.

“Oh?” he replied, following her lead. 

“You know that only one of us can go to Pathfinder, right?”

“... Yeah.” He dropped his shoulders. “Hell of a load of CO2 filters to burn through if the two of us go, huh?”

“Well, yeah, but you still need to tend to the crops.”

“I know you say that, but at the same time, we could use my engineering skills at Pathfinder. You’re pretty fucking smart Johanssen, but when fucking around with a decades old probes, maybe you should let the professional handle this. And, you know, I should go so I can fix any part of the rover that breaks.”

“You have to be in the Hab, no questions asked,” she sharply retorted. “I can make do with my engineering skills when fixing the rover, and hell, you can drill me if you really want to. But we need you here. The potato yield is very much dependent on how much we can optimize it, and optimizing our food supply is much more urgent than optimizing the rovers, because a half decent is fine there. A bad potato crop will kill us.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did suppose Beth had a point.

“So you’re going to Pathfinder Johanssen?”

“Yep.”

“At least… look out for any rogue MDVs, we don’t want a repeat of Sol 6.”

She let out a choking noise accompanied by a face of exasperation. “What!? Of all the things to worry about, you choose that!? Not, I don’t know, wait until I get back to you before messing with Pathfinder, or being careful around the RTG, which you’ve been bitching about for all of today?”

“You’re a smart nerd,” he gently replied. “Why the fuck would I need to mention much else?”

She paused, letting out a sigh he didn’t realize she was holding in.

“Now suit up Johanssen!” he cheerfully exclaimed with a smile. “We’ve got Hab canvas to move!”

“Oh-Fuuuuuuck,” she drew out. “I almost forgot about that.”

“Like I said, we should probably shield the radioactive fucking isotopes we have. Just sayin’.”

“Gimme a minute,” she muttered, stretching her arms.

“You got it Beth,” he replied, turning to go suit up.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 54

Watney gazed at Johanssen’s entry, and was sorely disappointed.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 54 - JOHANSSEN

The rover has been stock with supplies for the Pathfinder excursion. Final equipment failure rehearsals have been conducted. Current goal is to leave this sol, and to return within 22 sols of the departure time.

“Johanssen, the fuck?” he cried out.

“What?” she responded from the other side of the Hab, piling the personal belonging she was taking with her on the trip.

“The fuck is this shit?”

“A rover log. I know we sort of forgot about logging about the sols, even if NASA protocol said to log every sol, but I figure it’ll at least give me something to do while passing the time when the rover’s recharging.”

“Fuck that, your writing’s the most boring shit I’ve ever read! Where’s your normal nerdy snark?”

“Oh. That,” she said while grabbing a shirt. “I don’t bother writing in snark, because from personal experience looking back through my commented code, it just slows me down when I’m trying to work.”

“But Johanssen...” he overdramatically drew out, “Don’cha wanna a least make it interesting for people to read this? I mean, if NASA figured out we’re alive by now, we’re probably the most famous people in the fucking solar system. Why not at least write something interesting for them to read?”

She rolled her eyes, closing her box of personal supplies. “You can do that. I’d rather not write a joke that I end up cringing over in a few years. But, then again, you’ve done that already, haven’t you?”

“Says the nerd who swore on the first Ares Live video before me,” he quipped.

“Hey, you swore first,” she shot back. “Remember the pre-recording?”

“Fuck that fucking camera,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah, I’m taking all of the ketchup with me,” she said, moving her box over to the airlock.

“Uh, the fuck?”

“I’m not risking you wasting all of the ketchup while I’m gone, so I’ll be watching it. Just in case…”

Watney pointed a glance at her, but dropped it after a second, opting to instead follow her over to the airlock.

“So, I guess we’re ready, huh?” she said, placing her box on the ground.

“In terms of preparing? Hell yeah. You can change tires, clean the motors, and do basically anything on the rover almost as well as I can. Not to mention, you’re bringing over thirty sols worth of supplies for a drive that’s probably not going to take longer than twenty five. And even that fucking MAV strut for dragging Pathfinder on to the roof.” He lightly snorted. “You fucking genius,” he amended with a mumble.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she gently replied.

Watney continued with his argument. “Hab canvas is placed, and Rover 2’s been decked out as the new mini-Hab, seed crop and all. So yeah, everything’s done.”

She let out a nonchalant click with her tongue. “Yeah, even my brain thinks we’re good with the preparations. I was… thinking about the emotional side… ”

“Ah.”

He took a few steps forward towards the sysop, waiting for her to glance up at him. Eventually, her eyes met his, indecisiveness readily visible.

“Uh, happy trials?” he quipped, smiling awkwardly.

“I… don’t want to leave you,” she mumbled.

“Think about it this way Beth,” he continued, raising one of his palms up. “You get Pathfinder back to me, I’ll fix it up, and then we can talk with Earth. Your siblings, my parents, the crew, Beck, everyone.”

She let the silence sit for even longer. “I know. Can… I have a hug for the road?” she sheepishly asked, blush appearing on her face.

He leaned down to her height, smiling even brighter.

“You got it sunshine,” he gently replied.

Johanssen, without missing a beat, leaned for a hug, giving him a kiss.

Normally, he would have been startled, but it felt oddly right for the moment. The last time the two of them would be together for a while, and hopefully the longest time they’d be separated on the planet.

He was happy to partake in her kiss instead of continuing that particular thought process.

After a few seconds, she gingerly pulled away, blush already fading. “Thanks.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, nerd.”

She began to suit up, and for once, he took the time to help her out. Mostly just by standing there in thought, absentmindedly holding her helmet. When she needed it, he clicked it into place on her head.

He would have made a quip, but sort of felt there wasn’t really a better way to end it. Stupid Johanssen, and her stupidly amazing kisses.

She left without so much as a nod, bringing her box of supplies with her.

It didn’t take long for Watney to slowly walk over to the intercom. Yeah, the rover communications weren’t going to work forever, but he’d at least be able to add something if he needed to.

Even if he didn’t have anything to add at the moment.

He sat there, sort of aimlessly thinking about her. She’d be gone for over twenty sols after they’d gotten used to each other and their new undisturbed equilibrium. After getting stranded, making a farm, burning hydrazine, messing with radioactive isotopes, they were already separating, not even a tenth of the way to Ares 4. He could at least hope that eventually, they might have a stable few sols.

He unconsciously moved his hand over the intercom button.

“Hey Johanssen?” he said, with just a little bit more concern than usual.

“Glad to see the comms still work,” she brightly retorted back. “Hey, whatever happens out there, just know I’ll be thinking about you until I get back.”

“I taught you about as well as I could in a sol of rush work,” he said, amending a snicker to the end of that. “But you’re always fucking brilliant. Go get ‘em Beth.”

“Will do.”

Watney stopped for a moment, only distantly processing a dull thud somewhere in the Hab, before adding a last amendment.

“... Love you.”

Immediately, he bit back the urge to cringe. Nope, nope, nope. This wasn’t the time for a fucking love story. They’d be stuck on Mars together for four years, and he was not about to fuck up whatever was going to happen in between the two of them. Like they said, mutuality. If something happens, great. If not, then life’s still about as good as it could be, even if they were still just a little stranded on Mars.

Waiting for her response, he found the sysop oddly silent. He lowered his shoulders and opened his eyes, just a little confused.

It was then he looked over at his hand, apparently no longer on the intercom button.

Ah. That was the thud.

That was good. That was great! He could do a lot of things with Johanssen, but waltzing into some romance might have been just a bit of a bad idea. Probably a sign that he was watching too much Scrubs.

He let out a sigh to no one in particular. This was fine. She’d be fine.

Wonderful.

Chapter Text

SOL 55

LOG ENTRY: SOL 55 - WATNEY

Hello, all of you wonderful people from Earth. Are you all doing fine? Not quite as stranded on Mars as I am? If you aren’t, great! If you are, NASA or whoever you’re working with really fucking dropped the ball. You’d think everyone would be just a little bit more prepared about the whole ‘astronauts getting stranded on Mars’ scenario by whenever the fuck you’re reading this.

Anyways, long story short, I’m alive. Johanssen is too, she’s just a little away at the moment. Quick reflexes on her part and dumb luck on mine allowed us to survive the general clusterfuck known to us as Sol 6. To you, whatever NASA calls the sol Ares 3 evacuated and two astronauts ‘died’.

Yeah, we’re not dead. It’d be sort of hard for dead people to type up log entries.

Unnecessary explosions aside, that’ll be a hell of a fucking story for some other time, we’ve got a potato farm running down here which should let us survive into the neighborhood of Sol 553. Johanssen’s out getting Pathfinder after turning one of the rovers into a travelling circus. Again, long story. That’s sort of why I’m skipping most of the details, because odds are Johanssen will come back with Pathfinder, we’ll get into contact with NASA, and then we’d have to repeat the exact same details I would have written down here anyways.

Future me, if you ran into a problem and just cringed at the last paragraph, suck it. Let me at least pretend everything’s fine for a moment, won’t you?

But yeah, my current situation is essentially unfiltered boredom. It turns out that being completely alone on a barren planet leaves your entertainment choices sort of lacking.

The one thing I’ve got going for me is one of the commander’s USBs. After rummaging through Rover 2 a few sols ago, I found it sitting in one of the little side compartments. Should be a nice change of pace. As nice as Johanssen’s Beatles and Beck’s Scrubs are, watching them for a few dozen sols has gotten boring fast. I mean, what’s the worst thing the commander brought to Mars?

LOG ENTRY: SOL 55 (2) - WATNEY

Disco. Of all things, fucking disco. Fuck this, I’m raiding her personal drive. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t touch the files that my commanding officer has stored, but she’s not here. If they were important, she would have brought them with her. So fuck it.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 55 (3) - WATNEY

All of her TV shows are from the 70s. Fuck.

______________________________________________________________________________

Venkat still felt a dull headache pulsing through his forehead. The countless allnighters he had spent on planning had long since passed the number he’d normally pull for a project. Then again, this was the least normal project NASA had ever had to pull off.

“Um, Dr. Kapoor?”

He blinked, bringing his sight back into focus. In front of him, Mindy Park still sat in her chair, just a little confused.

“Dr. Kapoor?” she repeated. “Are you okay?”

He let out a melancholy sigh. “Not really. The entire program’s been a mess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said with a hesitant smile. In response, he took a moment to breathe.

“I suppose,” he responded. “JPL’s behind on the supply probe, and they’ve just been falling behind even more. The entire pipeline needs to be restarted, and that’s taking time.”

“That’s it?” Mindy leaned out of her chair in response, sitting up straight.

“I wish,” he muttered. “Figuring out how to get two astronauts to Ares 4 is even more of a headache. The MDV redesigns are the most ridiculous plans I’ve ever seen. The media’s constantly on NASA’s trail, and now with whatever they’re doing with the rovers...”

He stopped himself, knowing that NASA was still keeping silent about any news related to the RTG.

As if on cue, Mindy spoke up. “Are you thinking about the RTG?”

He remained silent, clenching his hands into fists.

Mindy continued after pausing for a moment. “Yeah. I… get why NASA would be silent about that, but theories have been circulating on the internet. Especially the fact that one of them managed to dig near the flagged RTG spot.”

“So,” he stated, trying to change the subject. “How’s the moving rover?”

“Right. That.” Mindy leaned into her console, quickly clicking open three files. “I’ve managed to find two important details, one in the left image, and the other in the ones on the right.”

Venkat leaned to the left. It was a photo of the Hab with an astronaut out near the solar farm, almost certainly cleaning the solar panels.

“Someone’s still at the Ares 3 Hab, so the two of them have split up,” Mindy said, bringing a fist under her chin. “We can’t see any differences between the different suits at any satellite resolution, so we don’t know whether that’s Watney or Johanssen near the Hab.”

“Well, it’s good to know that at least one person is still at the Hab,” Venkat stated. “If they ever make an attempt to reach Ares 4, they’d do it together.”

“So do you think this is a test?”

“I don’t know,” he finished, turning his head to the other side of the screen. “There are far better ways of testing their rover modifications. For example, by staying near the Hab during tests.”

“On to my other piece of news,” Mindy gently asserted, moving her cursor to the other side of the screen. “The image in the middle is a picture of where the moving rover was last sol. The right picture is where it is right now, another 70-something kilometers further.” 

“Direction?”

“Still South-Southwest. The same as it’s been for the past few sols.” Mindy moved her cursor directly on to the rover in the right image. “It’s almost like it’s driving towards something.”

“Hmm.” Venkat stared intently at the images for a few seconds, and suspected that Mindy had a point. Out of all of the directions to drive, that rover seemed to want to go in that particular direction. He squinted. Shortly thereafter, he noticed a few red numbers in the upper left hand corners of the right two images.

“Mindy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm?”

“What are the numbers in the center and right images?”

“Oh, those?” she asked, raising an eyebrow back at him. “I figured I could add the coordinates of the rover on each sol so we had a better bearing on where it was.”

With that, Venkat shifted his focus directly to the coordinates themselves. He had a hunch. There was something in how the numbers shifted from sol to sol that felt… familiar in a way.

“Mindy, could you set up a quick table of the rover’s coordinates if it continues on its current path?”

“Uh… sure.” She quickly opened two tabs, a spreadsheet and a calculator. Running some quick subtractions and inputting a few numbers into the sheet, she eventually filled down her table, stumbling only a little to filter out the coordinates into proper numbers. Numbers instantly leapt onto her screen, running in their columns for North and West coordinates down the sheet. Venkat’s eyes slid down the rows, before coming to a stop a few rows down.

Around 19 °N and 33 °W.

He gaped for a moment, recognizing those coordinates.

“Um, sir?”

“Mindy,” he said, trying to keep calm. “Do me a favor.”

“Sir?” She glared towards him, confusion appearing on her face.

“Please pull up the location of the Pathfinder mission.”

Mindy suddenly shook in place, now gaping along with him.

“Wait, are you saying…?”

“I can’t confirm it, but for reference, pull up Pathfinder’s landing site.”

Refocusing onto her keyboard, Mindy dexterously clicked into NASA’s intranet search engine, typing the probe's name into the search bar. With a gentle click, they both looked at the displayed coordinates.

Around 19 °N and 33 °W.

Venkat’s eyes darted back and forth between the two sets of numbers. They were close. On the rover’s current path, it would reach the site in an additional six sols, which seemed reasonable enough for the upgraded rover to pull off.

“No way...” Mindy said in disbelief. “No way… ”

“They’re going to Pathfinder!” Venkat exclaimed. “They have an upgraded rover and Watney’s mechanical expertise.”

“And a few sols ago, we saw them load an oxygen tank onto the modified rover,” Mindy amended. “If they can get Pathfinder and Sojourner, they might be able to fix the probe and the rover. With that, they might be able to send out a signal and possibly get a makeshift communications channel set up.”

“Better than that!” Venkat stood up, more excited than he’d been in weeks. “Johanssen’s a sysop! If she’s got an antennae, she can get a communications channel set up by herself! Those sneaky bastards!”

“So, I imagine NASA needs to get some hardware set up to listen to Pathfinder?”

“I-” Venkat stopped as the edges of his vision blurred. He stumbled back into his seat, just a little queasy.

“Sir?”

He let out a quick sigh. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just running on five hours of sleep and too much coffee. But yeah, I’ve got a few calls to make.”

Mindy’s lips curved up into a gentle smile. “Best of luck with those sir.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 64

Johanssen braced herself.

Alright, she had one good shot at this, she mused. The rover was stable, and by design there was an abysmally low chance of it tipping. She had buried one of the ends of the MAV strut into the Martian dirt, and a few quick foot stomps on her part had confirmed that it was well embedded into the soil.

She stared at the butchered Pathfinder probe laying in front of her.

Watney’s instructions still rang through her mind as clear as day, and the memory of his dumb goofy smile as he sat in front of the Pathfinder schematics still beaming remained vivid. She ripped off the side panels with a crowbar. She hoisted them away with the rover. She could do this.

“Moment of truth,” she unconsciously muttered.

At that moment, she slammed all of her body weight forwards into the probe, doing her best to move it. If she had the time to, she would have laughed. She had always been a lightweight, and the thought that she’d ever be the one throwing her weight against anything was about as practical as trying to set a fire with NASA equipment. Of course, she knew exactly what happened with that sentiment.

Feeling Pathfinder resisting her shoving more, she refocused.

Glaring down, she saw that the probe was finally at the strut and beginning to slide up her impromptu ramp. She lowered her body and did her best to push it even further, still grunting. There were still limits to the human body, even in 0.4 g.

The sand gently gave way under her feet, causing her to sink ever so slightly. That was fine. The probe was still rising. Just a little further and she’d be fine.

She heaved. Careful not to let go of the decades old probe, she strained her muscles to keep going just a little further. She also had to keep her focus away from the sun now glaring into her eyes. Just a little further, and…

She watched as Pathfinder finally settled on the flat roof, probably with a metallic clunk. But sound never did transmit that well in Mars’ almost nonexistent atmosphere.

She crumpled face first to the side of the rover, not even bothering to grab the sides with her sore arms.

Breathing deeply, Johanssen took a moment to just wait. To take her breath back. She turned around and gazed over the rugged terrain of Arabia Terra and the plethora of rocks that speckled the landscape. They were certainly larger than the ones near the Hab. But overall, it was still Mars. Red, dusty, and boring.

She had time. She still had plenty of supplies and at least ten sols before she’d get back. While driving her new makeshift radio back to the Hab, she could start working on that makeshift Asteroids game she was entertaining in her head. There was only so much mindless entertainment she could enjoy. Her mind wanted something to process that was just a little more involved, and Asteroids would still be relatively easy to code.

Probably, at least. She couldn’t quite remember whether or not the graphics package for Javascript was in NASA’s software, but it was probably there. There were a lot of unnecessary packages within NASA’s mess of a directory, just because of the sheer amount of contingencies the organization liked to plan for.

She let out a breath, feeling less sore. Pushing herself off of the side of the rover, she slowly sauntered over to the airlock and mindlessly tapped the control panel, triggering the cycling sequence. With a gentle hiss, she waited as the airlock did its duty, before finally pulling herself out of her EVA suit.

She collapsed, mostly due to exhaustion and partially due to boredom. Landing on the mess of her own clothes and blankets that she claimed as her bedding, she fell with a dull thud, letting her face bury itself within the variety of fabrics while she took another few minutes to rest.

Her laptop was nuzzled right in front of where her head landed. Right where she left it. While she was on the floor, she could at least make the next log entry. Letting it power back on, she clicked into her log entries, quickly skimming past her previous logs.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 55 - JOHANSSEN

The first sol of travel has gone to plan. Oxygen, water, food, and carbon dioxide scrubber use are well within their estimated limits. The current heading seems to be reasonable enough for reaching the Pathfinder probe.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 56 - JOHANSSEN

The daily routine for driving and recharging has been roughly established. Overall, the journey has remained uneventful, and as such, I will only initiate a log should any problems, mild or otherwise, manifest themselves.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 57 - JOHANSSEN

Navigation has become somewhat tricky given the barren nature of Acidalia Planitia. However, this sol saw the discovery of a large valley roughly in the required direction. I plan on following this valley so as to maintain my bearings relative to the surroundings.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 60 - JOHANSSEN

The aforementioned valley has ended, and now navigation is much harder. However, supplies remain relatively abundant and there are still some craters within the immediate vicinity of two or three sols, so I still remain confident in my ability to reach Pathfinder.

However, this could easily become an issue on the longer Ares 4 trip. I suppose this is an issue to work out by then.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 62 - JOHANSSEN

A small unnamed crater has appeared on the horizon, and with it, I was able to find my position on the map once more. I appear to remain on track for an arrival at Pathfinder within the next 2 sols.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 63 - JOHANSSEN

Hamelin crater is now in view, but the battery for the day has been depleted. It seems likely that the excavation plan, as prepared by engineer Watney, will be carried out next sol.

She let out a sharp, but gentle, bark of laughter. Engineer Watney. He’d certainly give her some shit about that name. But he could pout all he wanted, at least she had half decent log notes.

Johanssen clicked the new log entry button, and typed out her response. 

LOG ENTRY: SOL 64 - JOHANSSEN

Pathfinder excavation has been completed. The main panel currently rests on the roof and the Sojourner rover is nestled within the habitable space of the main rover. But it is almost sundown and the batteries are not fully charged yet, so I will remain on site for an additional sol. While this was planned for, I had originally hoped to be able to move during this sol as well, reducing the return journey by approximately one sol.

Nevertheless, the schedule still remains solid. The mission appears to be going to plan. Furthermore, collecting surface samples over the entire course of this trip was an idea that manifested itself into my mind earlier in this trip and it remains desirable. As such, samples will be collected and stored for their eventual trip to Ares 4 and Earth, with their coordinates labelled and at high enough masses for partial processing with the on site equipment.

Clicking the finish button, she let her laptop store her latest entry. Maybe now was the time to start on that Asteroids project.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 65

LOG ENTRY: SOL 65 - WATNEY

Sigh.

You’d think that getting stuck on an alien planet wouldn’t be quite this fucking boring.

I will admit I gave Johanssen quite a bit of shit when she said something like that a while ago, but it’s getting really fucking bad. Like, I stared at the fucking Hab ceiling for a solid two fucking hours a few sols ago just because there’s fuck all to do.

Well, there is always the potato crop (Again, read that story somewhere else. Suck it.), but unfortunately my wonderful botany powers are just too much for these meager potatoes. I finish basically every day with at least six hours of spare time.

And, like I said in my last log, entertainment choices on Mars suck. They boil down to:

Metric fucktons of disco.

TV shows from the 70s.

Season upon season of Scrubs.

Beatles and other Anglo-albums Johanssen brought.

Agatha Christie books and other books Johanssen brought.

German shows, when I know fuck-all German.

Bob Ross painting videos, courtesy of Martinez.

Don’t ask me why Martinez has Bob Ross videos. I’m just as confused as you are as to why he has those. Unless of course, Martinez, you happen to be reading this. If you are, sorry about your crucifix.

That’s another really long story man, it’ll make sense later.

Where was I? Right, complaining due to the fuck-all on Mars. I was the ship’s botanist and engineer, and so most of my daily tasks included watching the plants and making sure nothing broke. I’d also say it was to keep everyone alive by making sure none of the important shit broke too much, but that might be just a bit of an insult to Beck, the actual doctor. I mention this because I’ve been trying to poke at the experiments everyone left on Mars. After all, we left only six sols into the mission and I’ve got an entire planet of some of the most coveted samples in the history of science to work with. What could go wrong?

Basically everything on that’s fronts been going to shit. At least for once it’s not life threatening.

Of course NASA likes to cross train their astronauts just ‘cause when you’re a few million kilometers away from the rest of humanity, you can’t exactly call for a spare mechanic. But, surprise surprise, NASA sort of slacked on my cross training protocols! This might seem like a dumb idea, but it wasn’t really. I was the ship’s engineer, so under basically every circumstance, my job was ‘make sure nothing explodes’. As you’d imagine, that’s just a little bit more of a priority than the science experiments. Not to mention, I had to run through so many specific engineering problems in particular that I burned through most of the training time before the mission with just that.

On that note, I’m taking this opportunity to complain about one particular very shitty mission scenario. NASA creatively called it the ‘Innermost Internal Coolant Clog’ scenario. Care to guess what happens?

It sucks. The Hermes is a massive ship, and I could spend hours going through all of the neat knick knacks it has. Unfortunately, it’s also a bitch to rip apart. Imagine putting together a jigsaw puzzle in microgravity. Remember that suit mobility fucking sucks. This particular scenario basically involved ripping apart half of the fucking Hermes, and is pretty much necessary, because the clog it addresses would otherwise completely fuck over the reactor, and that’d cause everyone to die.

I can already hear Johanssen telling me to man up and just deal with it. That’s I’m getting too worked up over, ‘just a little uranium’.

‘Just a little uranium.’ My ass. But then again, if it was that repair or staying here on this planet… 

At least I’d be less likely to die in that repair.

Man, ain’t that morbid? Here’s to hoping that Johanssen getting back will make me mope a little less.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 68

LOG ENTRY: SOL 68 - JOHANSSEN

The valley from the outbound trip has come into view. While the rover tracks from the previous sols that I used for guidance are no longer visible, I have faith that I will be able to maintain a rough enough heading in order to end up within the forty kilometer transmission distance of the Hab. A return date of approximately Sol 75 remains feasible.

Furthermore, sample collection has been going well. All samples have been stored with the proper collection procedures. All collected samples are large enough that partial on site analysis at the Hab remains plausible.

Johanssen clicked the Submit button before quickly tabbing out and closing her laptop. Rolling over, she led out a long sigh, eventually lying with her back down. Boredom sucked. Especially when you happened to be confined to a space as small as the rover. She just wanted the ability to walk for at least ten seconds standing up.

The assorted pile of clothes she had thrown together for her bed were still lumpy. No surprise there, it wasn’t like she could make a feather bed out of her shirts. But after fourteen sols of lying and sleeping on them, her back was more sore than it had been in years.

The Doc would be giving her so much shit for this. Back on Earth, at their apartment, hell, even the few times he came over to her parents’ house in her childhodd, he practically kicked her out of her own bedroom just so he could fluff up her pillows. Not that she ever complained. There was always a gentle tenderness in the pillows he fluffed. There were the obvious comparisons, like claiming that he made pillows feel like a sheep, or a marshmallow, or a lot of things. No, he just made them feel like really good pillows.

Only when she choked out a gentle sob, did she realize that she was about to cry.

She brought a hand to her eye. No tears. Good. There was absolutely nothing to be worried about. She still felt her mind begin to spin as she couldn’t help but think more. Unconsciously flipping over and opening her laptop again, she pulled open a spreadsheet.

If her mind wanted to think, then fine. She’d let it think.

“Getting back into contact with the Doc,” she muttered, typing that part into the first cell before slamming the down arrow. “I’ve got Pathfinder, and Watney can fix it. He’s a good engineer. He’ll get it to work.”

Yeah. This was good. She’d work things out, and she could figure out any problems now.

“Getting lost. It took ten sols to get to Pathfinder, it’ll take ten sols to get back. The Hab still has 40 kilometers of transmission range, so there’s plenty of buffer zone in figuring out where it is. I even have plenty of supplies on the off chance that I do get lost. I have time.”

She relished in the fact that her voice was stabilizing, the nervousness in her voice leaking away.

“Watney somehow… dies,” she choked out, clenching her eyes shut. “Practically impossible. He’s been one of the best engineers in NASA, and there’s no way in hell that he’d let anything slip under his nose. For as much of a smartass as he is, he’s also the most damn proficient engineer I’ve ever met. If anyone can MacGyver their way out of a situation, it’d be him.”

Yeah, they did so much to make sure that nothing would go wrong. They had their emergency supply of potatoes in the remains of Rover 2. Compared to all of the work they did with harvesting soil and hydrazine, he’d hardly need to leave the Hab. The only reason he’d leave was for dusting off the solar panels. Even then, they checked every part of the Hab, and every part was as right as rain.

A very familiar part of her mind chimed, ‘Did they really?’

She blinked, forcing her face into a neutral stare. Of course they did. Watney loved to bitch about all of the extra drills he in particular had to go through, since as the ship’s engineer, he had to be ready for essentially any equipment failure possible. He would have checked the walls. And the floor, the airlock, the oxygenator, the atmospheric regulator, and the water reclaimer. He knew his way around all of the equipment like the back of his hand.

Wait. The airlock.

“Ghhh!” she exclaimed, leaning back in a very unpleasant surprise.

She immediately started taking deep breaths. Calm. Gentle. Breaths. This wasn’t the moment to freak out. She had to think that last part through. Yes, Watney had checked most of the Hab, but the one area he didn’t check was in the creases of Hab where the airlock met the hemispherical Hab. If there was a place to worry about, it was the airlock. The rest of the Hab had flexibility. That part didn’t. He had insisted that they didn’t need to look at those creases because they’d hold, but they were specced for only thirty sols. Not four Earth years.

Glancing down at her laptop, she pulled up a log entry as quickly as she could.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 68 (2) - JOHANSSEN

Upon further analysis of the current status of the mission, it has been revealed that a life threatening crisis may be present. In particular, certain sections of the Hab that have been regarded as cumbersome to fully study for structural integrity may prove to be more of an issue than expected. While a normal Ares mission may be able to avoid monitoring these problematic places, they will almost certainly become an issue under these circumstances if left unnoticed.

Satisfied with her new entry, she let her shoulders fall. She also figured that she could at least amend it, and so she reached down to type another paragraph.

However, it at least seems unlikely that the Hab will breach in these places during this trip, especially after the Hab has withstood the increased burden of the numerous EVAs during earlier sols. Nevertheless, these repairs will be of the utmost priority once this mission concludes.

Hitting the Submit button again, she slumped down into her mass of assorted clothes once more. She’d tell him the moment she could, and they’d be fine.

He had to be.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 74

Watney eagerly eyed Hab intercom in front of him with his hand already on the Talk button. Sure enough, the microphone still sat there in its metallic holder, and the dozens of buttons still looked just as flashy as they’d always been. 

While Johanssen wasn’t going to be back today, at the very least, she’d be getting within communications distance of the Hab. And, sure, while he wanted to talk to her just ‘cause he was so fucking done with isolation, there was a far more pressing matter.

In particular, her last message.

He was pretty fucking surprised when the Hab intercom flared to life about this time last sol. She was, what, a hundred kilometers away? There must have been perfect weather for a second, or something like that. He was excited. It meant that Johanssen could talk to him again, at least for a bit. But her message was quite a bit more off putting.

“Watney, you ne-!” the comms exclaimed, shortly before retreating back into static, and then silence.

He did not at all regret gaping blankly for a moment, before yelling out a loud fuck for all of the potatoes in the Hab.

If this was a prank, it was done either one with a really shitty taste, or with amazing taste. He knew Johanssen could think, and she knew that he knew. She could have easily figured out something important while he was still fucking around with potatoes and staring at the Hab ceiling. So either she genuinely figured out something super important, or she was making a very odd prank.

Johanssen interrupted his thoughts.

“Uh, Watney?” her voice asked, beaming through the speaker.

“Oh, Johanssen!” he pleasantly exclaimed.

“Is the signal good on your end?” she asked. “I’m still 48 kilometers away, but the wind just died down.”

“Yeah, this is good,” he said, grinning in the general direction of the speaker.

“Sorry for leaving you hanging the other sol, but I have something important for you. For both of us,” she said, just a little concerned.

He glared at the speaker. “If this is a prank Beth, so help me-”

“No, it isn’t.” He heard an odd rustling noise from the speaker, probably her stretching her shirt or something. “Remember when you ran diagnostics over the whole Hab after the hydrazine incident?”

“Of course,” he asserted, following his statement with a snort.

“If I may, I believe you ignored the parts of the Hab where the airlocks meet the Hab itself.”

“Yep.” He took the opportunity to bend his neck, letting it crack a little.

“What if that part of the Hab has tears in it?” she said, sounding even more concerned.

He paused for a moment. He should have expected her to bring up an issue like that.

“Okay, I get it, you want to be safe there. But, as I showed you from the rest of the Hab after the hydrazine incident, Hab canvas is pretty fucking sturdy.”

“But it’s near the airlock,” she shot back. “Won’t that mean it’ll be under a lot of pressure?”

Pausing again, he made a click with his tongue. “I see what you’re getting at, but it’d be pretty fucking hard to check that part of the Hab in particular. If I fuck up, I could blow the entire Hab out.”

“If you don’t check it, the entire Hab might blow out while also killing you,” she sharply replied.

He let out a sigh of acceptance. “Jeez, you’re a hell of an arguer!”

“Sorry, it's been on my mind for the past few sols,” she apologized. “Can you check it?”

“Honestly? Dunno.” He glanced down at the intercom while still talking. “NASA might’ve gone all out with the mission simulations, but they never drilled that into me. Even they figured that messing around with the airlock too much might cause a blowout.”

They both went silent for a moment after his comment.

“Although actually,” he said, breaking the silence while pulling fist under his chin. “There might be something I can do.”

“Oh?” Johanssen replied, intrigued.

He prepared his standard grin, turning his face towards the speaker as well. “Duct tape.”

“I-Oh my fucking God!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot!”

“Laugh all you want Johanssen, duct tape can fix anything,” he said with pride.

“Do you actually have a plan for how to use it though?”

He rolled his shoulders, stretching them out a bit. “Yep,” he replied, popping the p. “Even if NASA warned me about fucking with the airlocks, they at least taught me how much poking around is too much. So I’ll poke around a little bit on the outside of the airlocks, apply a layer of duct tape, and then they should be reinforced on the outside enough for me to do a proper inspection. After all, any leak visible from the outside should be visible from the inside too.”

“Wonderful!” she said with joy. “I can’t believe I’ve been freaking out over the past few sols while also somehow forgetting that you can fix anything with just duct tape.”

“Ah. Well, who’s the engineer on this planet?”

“I suppose that’d be y-sssssskkkkkkk.” The speaker finished it’s static with a sudden cut.

Watney dropped his smile just a bit, nudging the speaker just a little.

“Testing, one two. Johanssen, are you still there?”

The speaker erupted with sound once more. “-ney, can you check the weather? I think a dust storm might be starting.” 

“Got it,” he replied, spinning over to his laptop. A few clicks was all he needed. He saw that the wind speed was around twenty kilometers an hour from the various weather stations around the Hab. It looked like it was getting stronger too.

“Looks like twenty kilometers an hour and speeding up,” he chimed after spinning back towards the speaker.

“Ah. Well, you win some, you lose some,” she replied. “At least I told you about the airlock thing.”

“If you want me to, I can try to do it now,” he suggested, eying up the EVA suit rack. “Twenty’s still pretty fucking slow for an EVA.”

“Eh, sure. But if it gets stronger, don’t be afraid to go abort. Hopefully missing a sol or two won’t fuck us over.”

“Well, you never know,” he replied with a one armed shrug while still holding down the Talk button.

“That’s sort of the assumption I’ve been operating on. Anyways, I know we have a lot to catch up with, but maybe when the comms are a little more stable. Catch you later.”

He weakly smiled. Of course he wanted to talk with her more, but she had a point. Maybe when Mars was just a touch more cooperative.

Fucking Mars. 

“Got it sunshine. See ya in a bit.”

Letting go of the Talk button, he first glanced over at the EVA suit rack. She made some solid points, so he really should go and fix the airlocks now. Watney then turned towards the one Hab table not growing potatoes, still laden with supplies. In particular, he focused on the silvery roll that remained almost untouched resting on top of it.

Duct tape.

He couldn’t help but grin. It had been a while since his last brush with duct tape ingenuity. And, as always, a repeat of that was almost certainly going to be fun.

Chapter Text

SOL 74

LOG ENTRY: SOL 74 - WATNEY

A lot of shit went down today.

Yeah, I know. That wasn’t exactly the most descriptive sentence in the world. While Johanssen won’t be getting back until next sol, she got into communication range last sol for a split second. That would’ve been fine and dandy, if that one second was literally anything other than a cut off warning.

I shit you not. Johanssen tried to warn me about something, and the comms cut off before she could finish her sentence.

Okay, I’m leaving some details, but still. The rover communication systems are only specced for 40 kilometers, and, as you might have expected, Pathfinder is just a little beyond that. Hence why Johanssen and I haven’t been sitting around talking via the comms. Under better or worse weather conditions, it’s possible for this communications range to grow and shrink. The rover probably pulled off something in the neighborhood of 100 kilometers during that split second of perfect weather.

Engineering rambling aside, Johanssen got close enough today that she could actually finish her warning, and, as per usual, she had the right idea.

Before I get to that, here’s a quick rundown of the Hab’s design; trust me, you’ll need to know this shit. The Hab is made of a bunch of layers of canvas that are aligned together along strips of sealant. All of these layers were put together in the good ol’ days of the mission, when getting off of this planet was still guaranteed and the rest of the crew was still here. Hab canvas is pretty neat. It’s flexible, durable, and has the best radiation shielding NASA ever invented built into it. Perfect for a base on Mars.

Or, you know, shielding from plutonium. Before you ask, it was Johanssen’s idea. If there were literally any other options, I wouldn’t have agreed to it, and I did in fact give her a lot of shit over her use of the RTG. Again, long story.

While Hab canvas is strong, it certainly isn’t invincible. That’s why most of the Hab has multiple layers of canvas and some flexibility. However, the canvas near the airlocks can’t bend. This was a design feature, because wiggly airlocks tend to be leaky airlocks. Johanssen rightfully pointed out earlier this sol that if there was going to be a place that’d fail, it’d be the airlock.

But it isn’t exactly easy to inspect the airlocks. And by not easy, I mean that NASA told me, the fucking engineer with countless months of mission drills under his belt, under basically every circumstance, stay away from the airlock canvas.

One way or another, trying to fix the airlocks means messing with the seals that keep the Hab from breaching. So NASA gave me the order to just let the airlocks do their own thing. But, as handy little Johanssen pointed out, these things are designed for thirty sols of use, not four Earth years. So I’ll be using the ace up my sleeve.

Duct tape.

Yeah, NASA has standard duct tape. Duct tape works in vacuum, at any temperature, and basically anywhere. Duct tape is the closest thing to engineering dark magic and is to be worshipped. It’s also how I managed to not breach the Hab.

I went out with my trustly roll and started poking at Airlock One. While the big wigs at NASA did tell me to avoid trying to fix them, they also taught me what they deemed was a safe enough repair. Spoiler alert, it was basically a one fingered poke. I did as much of an inspection as I could from the outside and then lined the whole airlock with duct tape.

Yep, you read that right. I just slapped a bunch of duct tape on the airlock. My engineering degree in a nutshell, everyone.

Of course, I did pat the whole airlock down. It’d be sort of silly to make sure that the duct tape holding the airlock didn’t at least look airtight. I rinsed and repeated this process for Airlocks 2 and 3, and then went back inside for more inspections. My thought process being that if there was any leak in the airlocks, it’d be just as visible on the inside as it would have been on the outside. So at each airlock, I ran some canvas analysis. You’d think that it’d be boring, but keep in mind that I spent a few hours staring at the ceiling a few sols ago. Staring at a wall isn’t even a downgrade.

At every airlock, just to be safe, I first ran some preliminary inspections while still in my EVA suit, just in case shit hit the fan. I wasn’t expecting to find anything, but Mars has a nasty habit of making things go to shit.

And yeah, things nearly did go to shit.

Airlocks 2 and 3 were fine, the real problem was Airlock 1. Poking around the edge of Airlock 1, I found a little tear in the Hab canvas. Under basically any circumstance not involving near-vacuum pressures, a tear not even half a centimeter long wouldn’t be noteworthy. But as you might have guessed, this is one of those more extreme circumstances. If I didn’t find that tear, odds are that Airlock 1 might have breached.

God, being in a breach would suck. Imagine if my helmet broke during the breaching. Could I even get out of that? I’d probably have to, I don’t know, rip an arm off of whatever suit I was wearing at the time so I could patch the helmet hole while also using the suit resin kit to seal up the arm hole leak and the helmet.

That sounds like it would suck.

Speaking of suit resin, I added a pinch of it to the leak, and then threw just a hint of duct tape over that mess. Just to be safe, I’ll also make sure to not use Airlock 1 unless something really mangles the other two.

After that bout of airlock fuckery, Johanssen stopped moving for the day because her rover ran out of batteries. She ended her sol approximately 27,438 meters from the Hab. How do I know this? I’m a psychic.

Nope. The Hab can tell me exactly how far away the rovers are, assuming that they’re in communications distance.

Sparing you all of the messy details, I talked with her. It was nice. I shared my wonderful logs, and she shared her shitty logs. Side note, I apologize in advance for her shitty writing style. Something in her sysop background makes her want to write the log equivalent of beige, when I know for a fact that she is snarky as fuck and can do a hell of a lot better.

But yeah, everything went to plan on her end. She has Pathfinder and Sojourner with her and I’m still breathing over here. We both agree that the last few sols were boring as fuck, so we’ll probably stick together from now on. Not like there are other places for us to run off to.

But Johanssen had a trick up her own sleeve as well. Ah she was driving back, she got bored enough to actually code a bootleg version of Asteroids. I say bootleg, but I’m fully anticipating for the graphics to be miles ahead of the real deal. Johanssen tends to get just a little carried away with her coding projects after all. 

Maybe she’ll listen to any requests that I have. I’m entertaining Tetris.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 75

Watney wasn’t nervous. Why the fuck would he be? This was Johanssen he was thinking about. Sure, Johanssen had been away from him for over twenty sols, but it wasn’t exactly like that would make her like him less. What were twenty sols compared to the years of training that they had spent together?

He stood right in front of Airlock 1, waiting for Johanssen to come out. Odds were that it would be the airlock that she would enter through, what with it being the closest to the rover charging ports. He stood there with his arms open, ready to greet her.

So he was pretty fucking surprised to hear one of the airlocks behind him hissing.

He jolted around, making a wobbly 180 degree spin. His head eventually found itself pointed towards Airlock 3, where a rather familiar suited figure was quickly pulling off her helmet. He bounded towards her without so much as a second thought.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, stopping right in front of her. “You’re actually back!”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, shortly after pulling off her EVA helmet. “Are you part dog Watney!? You gave me shit about being a greyhound, but your fucking behavior screams dog way more than mine.”

He took a moment to process his reply, clasping his hands together before letting out a hearty chuckle. “Hey, haven’t we both established that being alone on this planet sucks? Also, I can’t believe you still remember that fucking tangent.”

She gently scoffed, turning her head around with a few light crackles as she pulled off the top of her EVA suit. “Well, you did happen to pull that tangent out of your hat on Sol 7. You know, the sol where I found out that everything went to shit. Those memories haven’t been quite so keen to fade away easily.”

Johanssen stepped out of the remains of her EVA suit while Watney smiled at her. It felt good to have her back.

“By the way, were you waiting in front of Airlock 1?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied with a weak shrug.

“Oh my God Mark,” she exasperated, sounding just a little tired. “Didn’t you tell me last sol that Airlock 1 had a tear in it? Why would you think I’d want to use it?”

“We park the rovers on that side of the Hab! And if you say you didn’t trust my airlock fixing skills, then I might be just a little offended.”

She slowly began to walk over towards their shared bunk while he followed right behind her. “Better safe than sorry. Coming all this way only to break the Hab the moment I walked in would have been just a little awkward.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

Finally reaching the bunk, Watney watched as Johanssen collapsed onto the bunk, bringing her stomach down solidly on the mattress. 

Then, she groaned.

There was no malicious intent in her groan. Or really, any indication that things were going really badly. Watney listened, and it sounded like just resenting all of life’s mundane problems in one drawn out release. Like being annoyed about all of the times that ice cubes watered down your soda over your entire life at once.

He gently kneeled onto the bed, careful to not kneel on Johanssen while still facing her.

“Uh, was that the boredom speaking?”

“I wish,” Johanssen said with regret in her voice. “You remember how I insisted that I could just sleep on whatever random clothes I brought along for a bed?”

“Yeah?” Watney leaned closer to her head in response.

“Just because I could have didn’t mean that I should have,” she replied, letting out another groan. “Words can’t describe the state that my back is in right now.”

“Not even swears?” Mark popped out one of his standard grins while she stared back at him, unamused.

“Nope.”

“Have you thought about, you know, learning a word that describes how your back feels now?”

The sharp look Johanssen pointed at him screamed ‘I would punch you if I could get up right now’.

“Well, fuck it.” Mark brought his hands over to the sysop’s back. “You wanna massage?”

“Uh… ” she groaned again. “By all professional standards, I shouldn’t. But honestly, do it. My back is killing me.”

“Good luck Johanssen,” he quipped as he pressed into her muscles. “I’ll try not to break anything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence about your own capabilities Mark,” she replied, tiredness leaking into her tone even more.

Pressing his thumbs into her back, Mark only then realized that he had no fucking idea how to massage. What was too hard? What was too soft? What muscles do you hit?

Eh, he could wing it.

Sticking his tongue out in thought, he decided to press firmly into Johanssen’s back. The sysop tended to be just a little tougher than he gave her credit for. While he ran his thumbs along the sides of her spine, she groaned.

“Oh… you have no idea how good that feels,” she replied. At least he didn’t seem to be breaking anything.

“Someone sounds like she’s enjoying herself,” he snarked.

“Give me whatever snarky comment you have from the depths of your soul,” she solemnly replied. “What you’re doing right now more than makes up for whatever you could say.”

He smirked.

“All of the potatoes fucking died while you were out.”

“I can’t even say that’s a nice try Watney,” she deadpanned. He then took the opportunity to move his hands laterally, pressing down along the sides of her back. “Ah… I have eyes. I can see just how green and lush this Hab is right now.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he said with what would have been a shrug had his hands not been busy. “But, just saying, remember our mutuality agreement.”

“‘Course.”

Working his way up Johanssen’s back, he then decided to point out exactly what he was aiming for.

“By that definition, aren’t you obliged to give me a massage eventually too?”

Her temporary silence was one he spent with an ever growing aura of smugness.

“Don’t count on it being good Watney,” her voice muffled out from within the mattress she buried her head in. “But at least let me enjoy this moment now.”

“Of course,” he insisted.

Lying next to each other in the bed in a way that Watney very carefully referred to as ‘not cuddling’, he decided to finally broach the topic of actual work.

“'Ya doing better Bethy Jo?”

“I would be if you stopped using that dumb nickname,” she snarked back at him, her dark brown eyes pointedly staring at his own. God, he missed her eyes. It was something about their color, that dark and alluring shade of brown. Maybe it was because they looked like coffee? 

Eh, whatever.

“If that’s a yes, I sort of want to touch base about everything that’s happened. I assume that today went well?”

“I suppose it did,” Johanssen replied, following her sentence with a hum of acceptance. “Although, just a heads up, I needed an extra hour outside in order to make an impromptu case out of old storage containers for the RTG. Odds are we’ll need it again for the Ares 4 trip, so while I did leave it back where the commander originally buried it, at the very least it’s protected.”

He grinned. “Finally. You’re actually caring about staying away from and protecting the fucking RTG,” he replied, content.

“Well, it’s mostly to make sure it doesn’t get damaged, but sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Aaaanyways,” Mark said with a drawn out beginning. “Is there anything that I should know about the Pathfinder trip? Other than the fact that it was boring as fuck and that you mangled your back?”

“Yeah, actually.” Johanssen leaned in just a little closer to him, mostly scooting her body over. Her volume diminished quite a bit as well. “Navigation was pretty tricky. Acidalia Planitia’s pretty much a barren wasteland, but even well into Arabia Terra, it was still hard to navigate with the craters.”

“Oh, really? I sort of remember Arabia Terra having quite a few of the damn things.”

“ Just because you can see a lot of craters on the map doesn’t mean that there are a lot of craters visible from the ground, ” Johanssen replied in her accent, scooting up into a sitting position.

“Uh, Johanssen?” He paused for a moment, waiting to see if she would respond on her own. Watney also took the opportunity to sit up straight as well. “Are you using your accent intentionally?”

She let out a tired sigh. “ Unfortunately, no, but I doubt I have enough energy left to correct it. ”

“I don’t mind, you sound cute with it.”

“ Oh… I suppose I should take that as a compliment, ” she lethargically replied, her British accent dulling her tone even further.

“Of course you should.” He would have said that louder, but she sounded tired. Yelling was probably a no-go.

“ Back on point, do you have any ideas about the navigation issue? ”

“I have a theory,” he started, preparing to throw his idea together as it came along. “I’m thinking sextant.”

Johanssen suddenly twitched her legs, startling the layer of blankets around them. “ What? ”

“Did you mishear me?” he said, letting out a snort. “I said sextant. You know, the sailing device. The one that old sailors used to navigate in the seas?”

“ ... Oh. ” Johanssen dropped back into her side of the bed as he pulled the blankets back into their original position. “ I may or may not have misheard that word. ”

He let out a throaty snort. “I think it’ll work out. We might also be able to use Phobos for our longitude, or something like that.”

“ I will say that even I don’t look forward to that math. It sounds just a little rough. ”

“Holy fuck,” Mark bluntly replied. “Math even you don’t look forward to. Should say something about how fucked we still are.”

“ Anyways, did you run into any issues on your end while I was gone? Other than the airlocks, at least. ”

“Nope,” he sharply finished. “Just been sitting around, watching the crops.”

“ Nothing happened? ”

“Does me staring at the ceiling of the Hab for four hours count as something?” he quipped back.

“ Technically it does, ” she mused. “ I think that’s a world record for Mars. Longest time spent staring at a ceiling. ”

He pulled his hands behind his back to scratch an itch he had. “Oh, fuck me. Of all the random records...”

“ What did you expect? Odds are the two of us will pull off a hundred firsts on this planet at the least. ” He distantly noticed that Johanssen was beginning to lean towards her side, almost certainly trying to sleep.

“Well, I think it’s time for both of us to sleep now,” he finished. “After all, don’t you think being the first to fix a Mars probe might take a bit of energy?”

“ Way ahead of you Mark, ” Johanssen said as he saw her relax her muscles. Watney, feeling a gentle wave of drowsiness overtake him, decided to follow suit.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 75

Johanssen looked at the panel now sitting out on the haphazard pile of MDV parts that roughly resembled a table. If she was being honest, the MDV part table somehow looked even shodier than the Pathfinder probe, which she had personally ripped apart after it had been sitting for decades in the dead Martian sand. Watney probably didn’t spend more than 15 minutes on trying to balance MDV parts until they resembled a table.

Oh well. Function over form.

“Hey Watney, just to confirm, this is the right panel, right?”

“Left,” he snarked back at her from his EVA suit to her right.

“You know what I mean!” In retaliation for his snark, she gently bopped his EVA suit in the visor.

“Yeah, don’t worry Beth. This is the right panel! I can work with this. God, could ya’ imagine if you somehow brought the wrong panel?”

She unconsciously shuddered, immediately imagining said situation. “Let’s leave that train of thought right there. Care to explain how you’re going to fix the probe?”

Watney firmly gripped the edge of the impromptu table, leaning ever so slightly on it while turning towards her. 

“To be blunt, there are two things we need to address in order to fix Pathfinder, assuming that it broke in the way that I think it did. First, we need to put power back into its systems. Duh. Second, the current temperature on Mars is approximately… -63 ℃ according to the EVA suit, and we need a least -40 ℃ in order for the electronics to work.”

“Got it. I assume that’s why you had me bring you this rover heater?” she asked, glancing down at said heater, which was sitting right next to Pathfinder on the table.

“You got it. By the way, is this from Rover 1 or Rover 2? Ideally we’d use neither, but obviously that can’t really work now.”

“Rover 1. We don’t need to make any more trips away from the Hab period, so we don’t need a moving rover at the moment. But we still need Rover 2 as a backup Hab just in case the airlocks still breach.”

“If they do, I’m going to be just a little pissed… I mean, you figured it out, I fixed them, so now they shouldn’t break. If they still do, fuck Mars!”

“Well… Mars isn’t exactly the nicest planet in the solar system, so it is possible… ”

“But still… ” Watney mumbled, pulling the rover heater over towards Pathfinder. “It better not.”

Johanssen watched as Watney deftly pulled out the alligator clips on the voltage controllers and quickly connected all of the hardware. With barely any coaxing on the spare heater and quite a bit more coaxing on the worn down Pathfinder metal, he managed to click everything together in a reasonably neat fashion. As a finishing touch, he also gave the whole assembly a hearty pat.

“Is there anything else we can do?” she asked.

“Eh, we wait,” he said as he lowered the heater into Pathfinder. “We just need to give Pathfinder some time to warm up. It should sort itself out.”

She cautiously kept her faze fixed on the probe. Yeah, ‘should’ wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was better than nothing.

“Just wondering,” she stated. “Do you have any idea about how we’re actually going to, you know, talk with NASA?”

“Pathfinder’s camera rotates,” he replied without missing a beat. “I think we could make an alphabet around the camera, and NASA can spin the camera around to make questions.”

She paused for a moment to see if there were any other parts of Watney’s plan.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Let me guess, you’ve got a ridiculous plan that involves hacking both Pathfinder and the rover comms?” Johanssen could picture the grin rising on his face from within his helmet.

“I entertained that train of thought, but never seriously considered it. No matter how much I mangle the software of one of the rovers, I can’t touch Pathfinder’s software. You can’t make a communications system with only one end of the software working. Both sides have to work together.”

He light heartedly chucked, taking a small step towards her. “Then why don’t you pretend to be NASA?” he jokingly replied.

Johanssen opened her mouth to reply, before stopping to think.

She knew how transmissions worked, she was the one who supervised the Hermes data dumps. Just because a signal hit an antennae didn’t mean that any code would run. NASA had noise shielding, specific sequences that every transmission started and ended with, but the data dumps had practically engrained the required inputs into her mind. The wonders of a photographic memory for code. Furthermore, Apollo 13 did teach NASA quite a bit about standardization, mechanical or not. She saw the same anti-noise software on Orion when the whole crew took off from Earth, on the MDV and the MAV, and even, back when she was still designing Hermes programs and looking for reference material, nestled into the software of MAVEN and the SuperSurveyor program. 

The only issue would have been tweaking the hardware for the required transmission wavelengths, but she had an engineer right in front of her.

“Uh, Johanssen?” She suddenly focused on Watney, poking at her helmet. She could hear the excitement building up within his voice. “You got an idea?”

“Hell yeah.”

Johanssen slammed the last comments into her code. Granted, she was the only sysop on the planet, but comments were a habit she had gotten into from the times she attempted to code tired, a state in which she was not in the greatest presence of mind. Peering over her shoulder while nestled right next to her in Rover 2, Watney looked absolutely lost while staring blankly at her code. He had been staring over her shoulder ever since he had cobbled together the Sojourner analog transmission antenna out of one of the weather stations, and she found that his presence didn’t even feel that odd. Even if he was right next to her.

“Okay,” he bluntly stated, throwing his hands out towards the screen. “Walk me through what’s happening here. And ideally why you had me fuck with a weather station too.”

She bit back the urge to laugh, instead opting to explain her latest creation. “Okay, things sort of changed from what I intended to happen, but arguably the plan’s now even better. So like we discussed, we’ve managed to throw together Fake NASA.”

“Can we call it that?” His smile at that remark was infectious, and she felt a similar one appear on her own face. “Fake NASA sounds fucking amazing.”

“Sure. Anyways, with Fake NASA, we can fool Pathfinder into thinking that NASA’s right here on Mars. The transmission wavelength on just Rover 2 is, after your help, pretty much NASA’s Deep Space Network transmission wavelength. The rover’s transmitter is both relatively strong and much closer to the probe, so the signal strength is at roughly the Deep Space Network’s level. Then my characterization program can figure out exactly what wavelengths NASA’s using with Pathfinder, because NASA keeps copies of the transmission stats in the software. After that, we’ll mess around on the hardware end of things and then become fake Sojourner.”

Johanssen heard Watney sigh, probably half due to losing the moniker of Fake NASA and half due to having to fuck with the jury-rigged weather station more. But to be fair, Fake Sojourner did seem like a downgrade from Fake NASA. If she disregarded the whole ‘commandeering a decades old probe without NASA’s help’ part of the plan.

“Like it or not Mark, that bit’s important. As fake Sojourner, we can use the short range antenna here on Mars. We have to use the weather station because Rover 2’s own antenna is just too strong for it to pretend to be Sojourner. We need the weaker antenna. Then, we can use the long range antenna on Pathfinder to talk to Earth.”

“You still think that plan will work?” he asked, eying up her code cautiously. “Not gonna lie, this might be a bit much even for you.”

“Of course it would have been too much for me alone.” She smirked, grabbing Watney around his back.”But I’m not fucking alone. At the very least, you’ve got half of the blame if this plan fails.”

Watney choked out a sharp gasp. 

“Well, at least your smart aleck skills are at full power,” he shot back. “But my work’s fucking flawless. I can almost guarantee that any issue will be due to you forgetiing a parenthesis or something dumb in your program.”

Mentally, she rolled her eyes. There were literally checks in the software that made sure all of the parentheses were paired.

“Okay Johanssen, I think this is where we call it for the night.” He gently hoisted her up from her shoulders. “We’ve got everything prepped, now we just have to wait until Pathfinder wakes up. C’mon, let’s head back.”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.

As the pair of astronauts slept through the night, the heater nestled next to Pathfinder’s electronics dutifully tried to warm up the long dead probe. It struggled with the thin Martian atmosphere, but nevertheless carried on. Having sat within the probe throughout much of the Martian day, it had already made a fair amount of progress with the heating operation. In fact, the ambient temperature had just breached into the survivable region for the electronics shortly before sunset.

Pathfinder sat silently well into the night before its systems finally powered on.

Electrons finally flowed through its circuits once more, and so the probe began to run through its self diagnostics. Once its list of status checks came to an end, the probe reactivated its long range antenna, dutifully seeking NASA.

However, an interloping device was nearby. The modified rover, keyed in to Pathfinder’s transmission wavelengths, had sat there, waiting. Upon hearing the signal, the rover ran its noise processing software. Surely enough, it had found the introductory code sequence that all NASA transmissions used. The rover finally began to process the new signal. With its newest program, it pinged Pathfinder. Pathfinder chimed back. The two rapidly exchanged information, and at the end of the exchange, the Rover displayed Pathfinder’s data right on its screen, ready for the two astronauts to use.

In short, everything had gone according to plan.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 76

From Johanssen’s point of view, the sol had been almost surreal. Of course the morning was still a little foggy in her memory, but that was normal. Mornings sucked. The less than normal part was Watney’s behavior. He had sols where his insistence on ‘five more minutes’ rivaled even her own. Yet today the man practically shook her awake, quivering with energy.

Even with her tired mind, she put two and two together and figured that Pathfinder powered on in the night. With that, the rest of the morning featured Watney dragging her around while she still wanted to sleep more. Even after her requisite coffee, she couldn’t help but think that Watney was still more active than usual. But then again, finding other people to talk to was pretty much ingrained into his nature.

Johanssen finalized the code in front of her and let it run. As she watched a familiar window pop up, she turned to face Watney. She knew that his reaction was going to be amazing.

“Holy shit,” he boldly stated. “Is this… you fucking did!”

“Yep,” she replied with a nod. “The NASA chat system. I figured I’d keep it a surprise, but I will admit that I wasn’t sure about whether or not this would work. God, I still can’t believe my math managed to pinpoint where Hermes is in the sky.”

A look of bewilderment appeared on Mark’s face, before acceptance overrode it. “Fuck, why am I even surprised at this point? Does this mean we can talk to the crew? Like, now?”

“Hell yeah,” she smirked.

“Before talking to NASA!?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fuck me Beth, we don’t even know if NASA knows we’re alive!” he exclaimed. “Do you even know how they’ll take it!?”

Johanssen snorted. “We can send a message to the Hermes and a message to Earth, but I want to send the Hermes message first.”

“Uh… you sure?” he asked, sounding concerned. “I mean, we’re not blaming them for what happened, but they might blame themselves if we surprise them.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Again, are you sure?” he reiterated, just a little bit more strongly.

“… I want the Doc to know that we’re not dead.”

Both of them went silent at her remark.

Mark finally decided to squeeze into the seat next to him. “Ah, I should’ve figured. He’s probably worried sick about you.”

“I know.” Concern leaked into her tone as well as her thoughts. “He might blame himself for stranding me, but at the very least I don’t want him blaming himself for letting me die.”

Watney made a light click with his tongue. “As usual, your logic wins Johanssen. So yeah. Go write your message to Beck. I won’t stop you. We’ll just write NASA a really good update after that. I think the big wigs will forgive us if we do that.”

“Thanks a million Watney.”

“Do you even know what you want to write?”

“Oh, of course,” she enthusiastically replied. “I spent half of the Pathfinder trip figuring out what to write. I know exactly what to say… ”

Cracking her knuckles, she finally clicked into her chat log with the Doc. The message came just as naturally as she knew it would.

JOHANSSEN: Hey Doc. I know that this sounds weird, but I’m alive. Trust me. No, this isn’t my brother pulling a prank call or anything, I’m actually still alive on Mars. Watney’s here too. For proof, that stain on the ceiling was a jet, and definitely not a Christmas tree. 

Yeah, this is probably a shock for you, but just know that I’m fine. What happened on Sol 6 was just bad luck. There’s a lot to explain, so please just take this at face value. Don’t blame yourself, and make sure that no one else does too. I’ll be fine. Trust me.

Watney immediately began snickering in the background.

“What the fuck was that about a stain?” he interjected.

“There was a stain on the ceiling of our shared apartment. The Doc said that it was a Christmas tree, but it was definitely a jet.”

“Fuck me...” he followed with a snort. “Of all of the dumb things to bring up when coming back from the dead… ”

She shrugged. “Hey. Proving that I’m me is pretty important, don’t you think?”

“All right, all right,” he said with a gentle head shake. “You sending it?”

“Right now.” With that, she finally pressed the Enter key and sent the message.

On that note, Johanssen felt like a load had finally fallen off of her shoulders. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could talk with the Doc now, and with the rest of Earth too. Maybe they weren’t completely safe, but they were miles ahead of where they were back on Sol 7. Glancing at Mark, she saw that he looked just as content as she was.

“We did it,” she said.

“We did,” he repeated with a smile.

“You know, things have felt sort of dicey. But now… I just have a feeling.”

“I sort of get it too,” he said, bringing a hand up to his neck. “This was the last big project we had planned. The food situation, the water situation, and even the communications situation are now taken care of. Dare I say that we’ll be fine?”

She clenched her fists gently. “Yeah. I think we’ll be fine.”

She leaned in towards Watney as he leaned towards her. With that, they spent just a few minutes leaning together in the rover, more confident about their situation than they had been in a very long time.

Chapter Text

“Hold on… something’s coming in… looking good… yes… yes! It’s Pathfinder!”

The newly assembled Pathfinder control center burst into applause as Venkat eagerly fist pumped the air. The control center in itself was already a miracle, with NASA managing to integrate the decades old systems into its new equipment in record time, even finishing all of the preparations before the moving rover made it back to the Ares 3 site. 

Venkat took a few cautious but excited steps towards the main control panel. The room, despite it being one of the largest NASA had on hand, was still full to bursting with equipment and technicians. The few allowed reporters quietly filmed the whole display near the back wall.

Venkat gave Bruce Ng a firm pat on the shoulder. “Well Bruce, you did it!”

“I wouldn’t say I did it,” he replied with a shrug. “I just directed. Thank the technicians in the room and the astronauts over on Mars.”

“Oh, of course!” Venkat finished with a grin while turning towards the man sitting at the main console. “How’s the information packet?”

“To be honest, sort of weird,” he acknowledged without missing a beat. “It doesn’t even resemble Pathfinder’s normal information packets.”

Venkat turned his head to Bruce, waiting to see if he had an answer.

“Well, that’s probably a good sign,” Bruce responded. “Johanssen’s the type of sysop that overperforms on basically everything. She might have managed to change the packet in order to send more information to us.”

“I think you called it.” The man at the control panel typed out one last command before bringing his hands to a rest in front of his keyboard. “Believe it or not, the message we got is for the internal messaging system.”

Venkat gaped for a moment, dumbfounded. “Really!?”

“Yep. The message is coming up right now.”

Venkat stared in disbelief as the main screen in the room did in fact pull up NASA’s internal messaging system. Square in the middle of the screen, one large paragraph boldly asserted itself.

JOHANSSEN: Greetings! If you see this message, this is urgent! This is Beth Johanssen from the Ares 3 mission. If NASA is not convinced about the validity of this statement, please pinpoint where this signal came from. I believe that NASA is more than capable of tracking this signal back to Acidalia Planitia. As you may have expected, I have survived the events of Sol 6, along with my colleague Mark Watney, who is, as of now, sitting right next to me. We have both agreed to leave this contact message in my hands because Watney has begrudgingly admitted that his less than formal language may not be well suited for this introduction. Please stand by for another four messages, which will explain the basics of our current situation.

There were a variety of reasons that Venkat was grinning, but mostly it boiled down to the fact that everything was going far better than anyone could have expected.

“So, buddy,” he chirped towards the main control panel.

“It’s Tim sir,” the man sitting there replied, still clicking away at his keyboard.

“Have you received the other four messages?” he inquired.

“We are currently receiving the third message as we speak. In the meantime, here’s the processed second message.”

“Are you also working on sending the draft message?”

“Yes sir. Well, at the very least I know the person who’s working on sending it now.”

With that, Venkat turned his head back towards the main screen.

JOHANSSEN: The events of Sol 6 that led to our combined survival were a confluence of both quick reflexes and dumb luck. Contrary to what NASA may have thought, the two of us did not experience the direct force of the out of control MDV slamming into our heads. I managed to spy the MDV a split second before it collided with me, and as a result raised my arms shortly before the impact. While they did break significantly, they also absorbed most of the impact, allowing me to survive without a concussion. Rest assured, those injuries have since almost completely healed.

He had barely managed to finish reading that message before his own took its place.

JPL: Mark, Beth, this is Venkat Kapoor. The world’s been watching the two of you since Sol 42. We’re glad that both of you have been outperforming our expectations time and time again. As of now, we’re working on plans to adjust Ares 4’s MDV in order to fly both of you to Schiaparelli. We’re also trying to put together a resupply mission for you two. The message in rocks outside of the Hab says S 553, which we assume means that you two have extended your supplies until Sol 553. Tell us whether or not this is true, and how, if true, you two have managed to extend your food supply to that sol.

“So, you drafted that message Venk?” Bruce tilted his head towards him.

“Yep. I squeezed in a few minutes for drafting a message a few days ago. Just a basic status request.” He carefully watched as the main screen once again changed its message.

JOHANSSEN: On Watney’s side of the story, he was impaled on a communications array antenna, which was from the wreckage of the MDV’s collision with the communications array. While he did not experience anywhere near as much blunt trauma as I did, the antenna pierced his suit and abdomen. However, by landing face down, his bleeding sealed the puncture. As with me, Watney’s injuries from Sol 6 have healed almost completely by now.

Bruce let out a snort that Venkat barely heard over the chaos in the room. “My God. We thought that they both died from blunt trauma. Watney was impaled, actually impaled, and somehow, he survived that.”

“Well,” Venkat beamed. “By this point, does it really surprise you that the two of them can survive basically anything?”

He turned his head lightly, stopping as he saw the fourth message appear. 

JOHANSSEN: As of now, after an admittedly rather unorthodox method of producing water, mission specialist Watney has prepared a potato farm using the live potatoes from the Thanksgiving supplies and some fertilized Martian soil. In total, we have 451 potato plants. Watney believes that we will be able to yield enough crops to survive until Sol 553. We have attempted to convey this through the rock message currently outside the Hab. I understand that this certainly isn’t optimal, but at the very least the prospect of launching a resupply for our location is somewhat reasonable.

“Oh my God!?” Venkat gaped once more. “Sol 553 is doable!? With both of them surviving!?  Bruce?”

“I’m just as shocked as you are,” Bruce asserted with his face angled towards Venkat. “The guys at JPL have been going at it like mad, and, to be honest, they’ve been throwing around Sol 550 as a possible arrival date for a while. Not just due to the rock message, it’s also a pretty likely date given how the schedules have been looking. If that happens… ”

“We can do this!” Venkat proclaimed. “This is possible, it’s doable!”

Venkat went into the last message grinning proudly.

JOHANSSEN: In order to contact NASA, I personally drove a heavily modified rover in order to reach the Pathfinder site. While it was hundreds of kilometers away, more unorthodox engineering applications made this journey practical. If NASA wishes to learn more about these exact applications, simply say so. I do not wish to hinder these already lengthy transmissions with more data. Once I drove Pathfinder back to the Ares 3 site, Watney’s engineering expertise and my own sysop capabilities allowed us to restore Pathfinder enough in order for us to send these messages. Furthermore, be advised that we have also sent a personal message to the Hermes. We merely want to touch base with our colleagues, and we will do our best to make sure that neither you nor the Hermes will know more about our situation than the other.

He finished that message just a little concerned.

“Uh, you caught that last part right?” Bruce inquired.

“I think so,” he replied, unsure.

“They’ve contacted the crew themselves.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Probably. The Hermes has the strongest antennae we’ve ever launched into space, and they’d know that. If there’s a ship that can pull it off, it’s the Hermes.”

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the exact ramifications of the message.

“We told them that we knew they were alive,” Venkat stated, staring blankly into the air. “We told them in the message, and now they’re going to contact the crew.”

“... Oh. Actually, why did we never tell the crew?” Bruce inquired.

“Simply put, they would have been devastated if they found out that they abandoned their two crewmates.”

“More so than thinking that they were dead?”

“... I know, I know,” Venkat groaned. “ Mitch has been giving me a lot of flak over that line of thinking in particular. The mission’s been in a very fragile status quo, and I didn’t want to break it.”

He heard Bruce shuffle a few steps towards him, so he shifted his line of sight back to the other man.

“Well, there isn’t much we can do about it now." Bruce replied. "If they can contact the crew, they would’ve exchanged messages by now due to the shorter transmission delay. And even if we tried to delete the message, there’d still be a few minutes in which the two of them could look at it. The one thing we can do is to prepare for the fallout.”

Venkat drew his phone out. “I’m calling Dr. Shields right away. And Mitch too.”

He saw Bruce wince momentarily. “Good luck with that. I know Mitch can sometimes have a bit of a temper.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll need it.” All Venkat hoped for was that Mitch would at least be willing to listen to him.

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 201

“Alright Beck. You said you had something important?” Commander Lewis asked, peering into Beck’s room. She was just a little concerned after seeing Beck send her a text message. The normal modus operandi on the ship was to just find whoever you wanted to talk to directly. The Hermes wasn’t too hard to search through completely.

Beck was sitting at his desk, concerned, peering at his computer. He almost didn’t seem to realize that she had entered.

“Oh. Yeah. I... this is weird. Insane. I’m still not sure if I believe it… ” he finished, sounding just a little hysterical while pulling away from his screen.

She did her best to soften her expression. “Is this… Johanssen related?”

“I… yes… ? I think? This is, like really weird, and it’s related in a way that I’m still not sure about.”

Lewis arched an eye, beginning to walk towards him. “Can I at least look at your screen? I presume that the issue is whatever’s on your computer.”

“... Yeah,” Beck stammered. “Be warned. Like I said, it’s weird.”

She turned to look at the screen and realized that it was the NASA messaging system. Her first thought was that it could have been acting up, and that maybe Beck was testing it by sending her a message. But she then saw that in particular, his chat log with Johanssen was up. She instantly became concerned with a message nestled at the bottom of the chat log.

JOHANSSEN: Hey Doc. I know that this sounds weird, but I’m alive. Trust me. No, this isn’t my brother pulling a prank call or anything, I’m actually still alive on Mars. Watney’s here too. For proof, that stain on the ceiling was a jet, and definitely not a Christmas tree. 

Yeah, this is probably a shock for you, but just know that I’m fine. What happened on Sol 6 was just bad luck. There’s a lot to explain, so please just take this at face value. Don’t blame yourself, and make sure that no one else does too. I’ll be fine. Trust me.

Suddenly, she understood exactly what Beck was thinking.

“When did you get this message?” she blurted out.

“Just now,” he sighed. “Yeah, I’d definitely call this a shock.”

Lewis took another glance at the message. “I can see that there are a couple of personal details in the message. Are those details only Johanssen would know?”

“Well, she does call me ‘the Doc’, but her siblings know that too. The real thing I’m seeing is the stain comment, which is, uh, something I think only she’d know because that stain was at our apartment back on Earth, and is something that I doubt she would have ever told anyone. I mean, a stain’s pretty irrelevant.”

Lewis felt the blood rush away from her face as she processed the ramifications.

“I… have you sent a message?”

“No,” Beck quickly retorted. “I’ve been a little bit busy just, you know, processing this.”

She brought her fingers over to the keyboard. “Can I send a message? There’s a test I want to run.”

Beck scooted away from the keyboard, giving her space to move in. “Sure.”

Scooting her body in front of the laptop, she quickly typed in her message.

BECK: Johanssen, Watney, hello. This is Commander Lewis. I am responding to the two of you through Beck’s messages. As a test that you two are receiving, please reply with the number of words in this message.

Beck narrowly squinted at her. “Hmm. Seems like a pretty odd request.”

“It’s a test,” Lewis replied, getting out of his way. “If this message is real, the two of them should respond within ten minutes. If they do, we’ll get confirmation that whoever this is, ignoring the contents of the last message, is within five light minutes of Hermes. That deducts any chance of it being a message from Earth, and locks down the possibility of who could be sending this signal to the two people unaccounted for within that range.”

She half expected for Beck to make some sort of remark to her reasoning, or at least some indication that he was following on. Instead, the man rolled his chair back towards the computer as he resumed staring at the message on the computer.

Lewis gently clenched her hands together.

“Beck?”

Started, he froze once he managed to focus back in on her face. “Yeah?”

“Since you’re sitting at your laptop, please message Vogel and Martinez to join us here. Also, tell Vogel to bring my laptop over with him. I’ll be telling NASA about this once we get a response.”

“... Sure.” He jerked his hands over onto his keyboard and clicked into a different chat log.

In the meantime, she quietly lowered herself onto Beck’s bed, glad that the doctor was momentarily busy with sending the messages. Despite what she said, she knew that NASA had tight security. The thought that someone would break into NASA’s software just to send that message as a sick prank was, quite frankly, almost as improbable as Johanssen and Watney surviving. But still, accepting that they were alive meant accepting something else.

She left them behind.

She was the one who gave the order to launch. She was the one who decided to stop looking for them. She was their captain. Now the two of them were stranded in a barren wasteland millions of kilometers away from help.

Only then did she feel her palms stinging from her nails as her fists clenched even tighter.

Hearing gentle footsteps, Lewis slowly lifted her face. Vogel slowly stepped into the room and he gently extended her laptop towards her. She took it without uttering a word. Martinez briskly followed Vogel, rounding the corner of the door frame before coming to a stop next to Beck.

Martinez first looked at Beck before directing his attention towards Lewis. “Uh, what’s the deal? You called Beck?”

“I… ” Beck’s mouth stammered. “Just read this message I pulled up. I know as much as you two do.”

“And I know as much as Beck does about this,” she amended.

Vogel carefully maneuvered through Beck’s crowded bedroom, doing his best to read the screen while Martinez went on ahead of him.

She remained silent with Beck as they read the message.

Martinez blinked once, dazed. He sat down on Beck’s bunk with a thump.

“Holy shit,” he said with a smile. “They’re alive?”

“I…” Vogel began, just as dazed as Martinez. “Can you confirm-”

“Yeah.” Beck’s eyes were just as dull as his tone. “The details in the message are personal. Only Johanssen would’ve typed that.”

Martinez’ face lit up with confusion for a moment. He then quickly stood back up, leaning against the nearest wall. 

“Beck, Commander, what’s biting the two of you?” he asked. “This is great! They’re alive!”

“I left them behind,” she quietly stated.

The three of them all turned towards her, staring back at her with varying degrees of concern.

“I was supposed to lead the mission,” she continued. “I was the one in charge of keeping you all safe.”

She unconsciously turned to face Beck directly.

“And I failed.”

Beck’s concern morphed into a display of discomfort and concern as he gently bit his lip.

The whole exchange was stopped with the chime of Beck’s laptop. The doctor quickly skimmed over the message.

“Yeah, this is them. You all should read this.”

Lewis carefully leaned forwards as Martinez and Vogel turned their heads towards the screen. She carefully scanned over the words on the screen.

JOHANSSEN: Oh? Are we doing identity theft now? Well then, I guess we’ll do it too! Watney here. I shoved Johanssen over to the side for a moment because there was no fucking way I’d let her have the whole first conversation with you guys. Seriously. I’ve been waiting for this since Sol 6. Johanssen’s not a bad roommate. Planetmate? Whatever fucking word works better. But anyways, I still miss you guys. Oh, and as for the commander’s version of a Mars based word counter, there were 37 words in your last message. Johanssen’s giving me some shit over the fact that technically Beck’s name is in the last one, so it’d be 38, but the name’s just a default word and wouldn’t count, right?

I know Johanssen has reasons for giving me shit over an off by one error, but she’s down here. Just let it slide and everything will be better.

P.S. Tell Martinez we’re sorry for what we did to his crucifix.

Martinez turned towards the rest of them with a grin on his face. “You know, I think we all forgot some pretty damn important things. We all forgot that Watney’s never gonna stop smiling and that Johanssen’s never gonna stop trying. If there’s a duo that can survive down there, it’s them.”

She looked up at Martinez and let out a neutral hum.

“And besides,” he continued. “You know neither of them would blame you for what happened, right?”

Lewis remained silent.

“I concur,” Vogel amended. “I can not see either of them being openly hostile with any of us. Watney has always been forgiving and Johanssen has never been the type to hold a grudge.”

She bit back a groan. Despite everything, she left them both behind.

Another ping snapped her out of her thoughts. She saw Beck read the message, only to see him wince away suddenly.

“What!?” he exclaimed, blinking rapidly.

“Beck, what’s the issue?” she asked.

“NASA knew they were alive!?”

Martinez choked out a gasp while Vogel took a sudden step back. Her own eyelids flew open, as she leaned in towards him.

“Beg pardon?”

“They’ve been talking with NASA during this time too, and apparently NASA sent them a reply. Said reply claims that they knew Johanssen and Watney were alive by Sol 42!?”

She stopped for a moment to read the message.

JOHANSSEN: By the way, this is still Watney, you guys have been fine, right? NASA just told us that you all knew we were alive since Sol 42, so this at least wasn’t ‘that’ much of a shock to you guys. Right?

Sidenote, NASA should’ve put some italics into this fucking program. It would’ve made for some neat formatting.

“... What… ” stammered Martinez. “They wouldn’t have… ”

“At the same time, if they wanted to, they could have,” Vogel conceded. NASA controls all communications with the ship.

“Beck. If you can, please press for more information from Johanssen and Watney, like how long their supplies will last and how they got into contact with us. Feel free to add that we knew nothing about their survival until today.” Beck gave her a short nod before pulling himself back to his computer.

She pulled her computer into her lap, pulling it open and firmly pressing down on the power button.

“Rest assured, I’ll be contacting NASA to sort this matter out.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 76

Watney stared blankly at the screen for a moment before blurting out the first thought that popped into his head.

“THE ACTUAL FUCK!?”

“YEAH! I AGREE!” Johanssen asserted after him.

Covering his mouth with his arm, he let out a fierce snarl.

Like, what the fuck? NASA knew they were alive for a solid 30 sols and somehow neglected to spare five seconds to tell the crew!? The fuck!?

He looked back at the screen once more.

BECK: Actually, no. We all still thought that you two were dead. We didn’t know anything about NASA finding you back on Sol 42 and if they did, they certainly haven't said anything about it to us.

Give me a minute or so to pull myself together.

Just reading that message made his blood boil.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, pulling up the other channel. “If NASA wants communication bullshit, who am I to hold back!?”

Johanssen let out a frustrated groan. “Under almost any other circumstance I’d be holding you back, but to be honest, I’m just as pissed as you are. God fucking damnit… Doc… ”

He slammed his message into the computer, but neglected to hit send.

JOHANSSEN: NASA, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

Watney stared at the message for a solid minute, still squinting in anger next to Johanssen, furious at this ridiculous level of bullshit.

Eventually, Johanssen let out a sigh that was more tired than anything. She subtly brought her shoulders back down into their resting position. “Yeah Watney, I get why you might want to send that. But at the same time, I don’t think we should.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “But it fucking sucks.”

“I agree with you there,” she sharply replied.

Watney slumped his body against the wall of the rover, exhausted as well. This sucked. After everything they did to survive, after their Hail Mary for contact actually worked, the crew had no idea that they had survived until this sol!

He let out a sharp snort of anger.

“You know,” he began. Johanssen perked up as the sound of his voice. “I know everyone gives me shit over not listening to the big wigs at NASA. But now do you at least get where I’m coming from now?”

“I suppose… ” she said with a nod. “But then again, this is sort of a one time thing.”

He let out a sharp scoff. “There are SOME levels of trust I think most astronauts would’ve expected from NASA.”

“Well, are you better? I think I got most of that out of my system, at least. Still sucks though. Would you mind me doing something?” She cautiously pulled her hands towards the computer.

He paused for a moment before letting out a more gentle snort.

“Eh, you can change the message if you want,” he stated. If that was what she was asking for, he might as well give it to her.

She cracked her knuckles, lips still locked into a neutral expression. “Yeah. I’ll snark at them a bit, but I’ll keep it formal. It’d be hilarious if all of the damn work I put into all of those messages was interrupted because we decided to send the word ‘fuck’ halfway across the solar system.”

He couldn’t help but snort. “Not gonna lie, I would’ve done it if you weren’t here.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Mitch stared at Venkat with an expression he suspected was the best ‘I told you so’ he ever pulled off in his life. While he was certain that telling the Hermes crew about what really happened to their crewmates would've been the right decision, even he couldn’t have predicted that it would have backfired this much. It just made Venkat’s sorry apology as the two of them stood in the hallway outside of the Pathfinder control room even weaker.

“‘Sorry’?” he reiterated. “Venkat, we lied to them for weeks and all you have to say is sorry?”

“Look,” he whispered. “I get it. I messed up and now we may have issues with cooperating with the entire Ares 3 crew. If there’s any way you want me to make it up to you, just let me know.”

“You bet there are things I want from this mess,” he grumbled, almost cutting Venkat off. “First, if Watney and/or Johanssen say anything in response to this, you’re the one talking with Annie over it.”

The other man momentarily winced, before letting out a deep breath. Mitch kept going.

“Second, we’re keeping the rest of the crew in the loop with whatever happens. And I mean WHATEVER. Commander Lewis is still in charge of both of them, and we both know that they might be just a little more cooperative with her than us after this whole ordeal.”

“... Fair enough,” Venkat said with a nod. “The Hermes is still closer to Mars than we are, so it actually does make sense on that front.”

Mitch shot a glare towards him. On top of the complete and utter mess of losing two astronauts on another planet, losing the trust of said astronauts was somehow one of the few ways this situation could have gotten worse.

“So, was this just you giving a far too late apology?” Mitch said with a growl. “Or do you have something else to say?”

“I called Dr. Shields over,” Venkat replied, rolling his shoulders. “I want her advice on how we should proceed with the new social situation, and I thought you might want to listen to her too.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Good evening to both of you,” a familiar voice chimed from behind Mitch. Dr. Shields had arrived, and she nimbly stopped next to both of the men.

“Oh. Nice to see you Dr. Shields,” Venkat greeted.

“Nice to see you too, I suppose.” Mitch extended a hand towards her, and she responded with a firm handshake. “You ready?”

“After some review over how the Ares 3 crew did during the psychological training sessions, I have reasonable hypotheses as to how they would act.” Irene carefully adjusted her sleeves. “I see little to no issues with Martinez and Vogel regarding these developments, or even with Commander Lewis. Her military discipline has proven to be rigid, and as such she would not willingly ignore NASA. Beck poses a minor issue, given how close he was to Johanssen, but the records show that Beck can still maintain his professionalism, even with matters related to the sysop.”

“‘He would,” Mitch muttered. “We wouldn’t have let those two fly together if there was an issue with that.”

Irene cleared her throat. “Speaking of Johanssen, her general compliance with orders and collected nature suggests that she should remain cooperative. Watney is, unfortunately, a different story. While he has been very socially cooperative within the crew, his own ingenuity can lead him to being resistant to following NASA’s instructions completely. Combined with the lack of a nearby commanding officer and the miscommunication reveal, I imagine you two can understand that he may be even less cooperative.”

“Sounds about right,” Mitch affirmed. “Everyone else might take it, but Watney’s not going to take this sitting down.”

Venkat paused for a moment in thought. “Irene, could you see allowing Commander Lewis to instruct Johanssen and Watney as beneficial?”

“I was going to suggest that,” she admitted. “While Watney may not be willing to work with NASA, his compatibility with the rest of the crew means that he would almost certainly listen to Commander Lewis.”

“You better let this slide Venkat,” Mitch said with a growl.

“I will.”

“We’re giving the crew as much of a hand in this as they can. They can choose the science experiments, Beck can serve as their doctor, and et cetera. They’re still on the same crew. Let’s treat them like it.”

“Very well,” Venkat calmly replied. “Anything else Dr. Shields?”

“Actually, there is some good news,” she replied, stepping away from Venkat and Mitch. “You two may want to see this for yourself.”

“Alright,” Venkat said as he stepped forwards.

“Sure,” Mitch said as he followed as well. “Let me guess, the reply came?”

“Yes,” Irene replied, leading the trio back into the crowded room. “Believe it or not, the response was civilized.”

Mitch eyed the main screen, and his vision came to a rest at the lowest message.

JOHANSSEN: Houston, we’ve relayed a few messages with the Hermes, and they’ve claimed that they knew nothing about our survival, which certainly contrasts with your latest message. As such, the only reasonable explanation is that you kept the information of our survival from reaching the Hermes.

Both Watney and I are disappointed with this reaction, to say the least. However, in order to assure our continued survival, I have made sure that Watney will comply with NASA’s instructions. I will still remain cordial in my responses and compliant with your instructions.

“Needless to say, I’m impressed,” Dr. Shield said with a light smile. “I believe that Johanssen was a positive influence on Watney and as a result, the reaction wasn’t quite as negative as I had predicted. However, I would still remain cautious as to how much Watney is willing to listen to any given orders.”

“Venk, you better be grateful,” Mitch asserted. “Guess that’s one less mess for you to deal with.”

“I am,” he said with a nod. 

“But don’t you dare forget the other half of our deal, alright?”

“... I won’t,” he insisted.

______________________________________________________________________________

Beck slumped against the wall, tired. Still gazing at the same page of the research paper in front of him from twenty minutes ago, it was clear that wasn’t going to be productive today.

He reluctantly drew out a long sigh. 

He didn’t even know what to feel. One of the obvious emotions was relief because, well, Johanssen and Watney were alive. But the counterpoint was that they were both, as Commander Lewis pointed out a few hours ago, stranded on another planet entirely. If there was a way to fail to protect someone, it was probably that.

He was also probably angry with himself. And as for NASA not telling them about the fact that they were alive…

He sighed again. This was too much to think about for one day.

A gentle knock came from the other side of his door.

“Come in,” he almost whispered, hoping that whoever was trying to enter could hear him.

He slowly looked up as he saw Commander Lewis enter the room, carefully inspecting the rest of the room before focusing in on him. She quaintly cleared her throat before beginning to speak.

“Good evening Beck,” she greeted. “I have some pretty important news for you, but that can wait a few minutes. I know this is a dumb question, but how are you?”

He tried to make a chucke, but it ended up degrading into more of a choke. “Probably feeling most of the things that you’re feeling now.”

“... That’s not exactly a good thing.”

“I know,” he followed with an unconscious nod.

“I won’t say ‘don’t blame yourself’, but I will reiterate something Martinez mentioned to both of us. They helped me, and I think they’ll help you.”

He would’ve tried to say something, anything to show that he was still listening, but he wasn’t sure if he could choke any words past his already muddled thoughts.

“Sure,” he finally replied.

“Stepping back for a moment, they’ve actually got a pretty high chance of surviving. It’s almost too perfect, really. They mentioned that they were growing crops, and it just so happens that Watney’s a botanist. And for Pathfinder? Not only is Watney an engineer, but Johanssen’s a sysop. The two of them were literally the perfect duo for the job.”

Beck couldn’t help but smile at that thought. That despite everything, the two of them were still managing something close to thriving.

“Plus, the two of them have always outperformed anything NASA has thrown at them.” Commander Lewis let out a gentle bark of laughter. “By the way… I’ve seen the evaluation forms from before the mission selection. Did you know that Watney’s literally said ‘May be too smart for the mission’?”

If Beck was more mentally present, he would have gaped. Instead, he just shook his head.

“You serious?” he asked.

“Actually. Watney’s macgyvering scared NASA quite a bit. They were worried about him trying to implement his own solutions while ignoring NASA. If anything, getting back into contact might actually slow him down.”

Beck let out a surprised bark of laughter at that remark.

“I’ll also admit that Johanssen’s file said that her ingenuity ‘Exceeds expectations in nearly every mission category not under her jurisdiction’, but I think you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“Hnnn,” he snorted. “Sounds like Johanssen alright. This does sort of remind me of something.”

“Care to share it with me?” Lewis inquired.

“Sure. Back when I was a kid, my parents sometimes took me to the Johanssen household. This continued until well after Johanssen was born. It was fun. But, uh, one of the things we did a lot of was play hide and seek.”

Beck shook his head. God, the way he was always sore after every round felt almost painfully nostalgic. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Commander Lewis intently listening to him.

“God, Johanssen as a hider was always ridiculous. She was a small kid and still super smart, so she’d basically hide anywhere. One time, she hid and we couldn’t find her. Like, even after twenty minutes. I got scared, and William and Crystal were too, ‘cause I’d already found both of them. We searched everywhere. Every room in the house? Thoroughly checked thrice. We eventually looked outside and somehow she’s outside a second story window.”

It was strange to look back at the sudden jolt of fear he felt when he saw little Johanssen, smiling brightly from a ledge about a foot wide, staring down at him from fifteen feet in the air. If he was reminded about the incident not even three months ago, he would have said that it was one of the most haunting experiences in his life. 

Now? He wasn’t even sure if it still registered as concerning.

“I screamed. Will screamed. Crystal screamed. We’re all screaming, and we’re all thinking about how the hell we’re going to get Johanssen down without her getting hurt. And lo and behold, Johanssen’s gets herself down. It turned out that she had found a rope strong enough to hold her weight. Don’t ask me how, but she actually lassoed the edge of the platform. Again. Don’t ask me how. She used the rope to climb back down, and just sort of plopped back on the ground. As if that wasn’t enough, she then undid the rope knot with one tug.”

He was still confused about how exactly Johanssen pulled off that bout of near insanity, but he couldn’t help but smile at the almost painful nostalgia.

“Anyways, yeah. My point is Johanssen’s nuts. She’s still amazing, but she can also get just a little too smart for her own good.”

The commander smiled back at him. “She really is. But yeah, we can believe in them. They’ve outperformed time after time. What’s a little more for the two of them?”

“I suppose,” he stated, thoughtfully.

“By the way, NASA sent a message. It boils down to them admitting that they knew Johanssen and Watney were alive, and that they hid that information from us willingly.”

“I thought so,” he said, shaking his fingers to get rid of the numbness encroaching on them.

“No matter what, we’re cooperating, understood?” Lewis asserted. “Things are already uncertain enough, we don’t need them getting worse.”

“Of course.”

“But, at the very least, NASA wants us in the loop. So,” She paused, and he took the time to blink. “You’re in charge of asking Johanssen and Watney for their current health, as well as providing medical advice for the two of them.”

He gazed up at her, momentarily confused.

“Wait, really? NASA isn’t doing it with their own team?”

“They claimed that not only do you have the exam data from when they were on the Hermes, but that the signal delay from the Hermes is much shorter as well. If you ask me, this almost feels like NASA apologizing after not telling us anything.”

Beck hummed in approval. “I’ll take it. I’ll only say that Johanssen’s standards for what’s survivable tend to not quite agree with my medical degree. So I think I have my work cut out for me.”

“Well, she’ll listen to you more than any faceless doctor back on Earth.”

“True that. You?”

“In the same vein as what you’ve got, NASA says I’m still their commanding officer. I still get to send them orders.”

He hummed in approval once more. NASA was letting them stay in contact with Johanssen and Watney. He’d been just a little worried that NASA would try to monopolize communications with the duo, so he was certainly grateful that they’d have this little sliver of contact.

“Also, Beck?” she stated.

“Yeah?”

“This means you haven’t failed yet.”

Beck nearly fell out of his chair at that remark. God, the promise!

She was right though. If Johanssen was still alive, he’d still do what he could.

“In that case, I guess you haven’t failed yet either?” Beck continued as surprise appeared on the commander’s face. “If NASA still says you’re in charge, then you can still help them. Got it?”

After a brief moment of uncertainty, Lewis smiled back at him.

“I guess you’re right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go draft a message for the two of them.” Lewis took a gentle step back towards the door.

“Fair,” Beck said. “I’ll need some time to look back over their previous medical records and to also figure out how to get both of them to run medical trials on themselves.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“You too.”

Chapter Text

SOL 92

Johanssen felt a sudden nudge against her arm. Even in her barely awake state, she knew that there was exactly one person on the planet who could have been nudging her. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.

She felt another nudge, but this time the offending finger also slid up her arm.

Just a little longer…

He nudged again.

Johanssen let out the most melodramatic moan that she could muster before finally loosening the bed sheets around her.

“Ugh… you win Watney,” she grumbled. “I’ll wake up now.”

“Glad to hear it sunshine!” he replied with far too much energy for her to handle in the morning.

“Although, did you really have to wait for me to wake up?” she complained.

“Something something being the only conscious human on the planet’s sort of uncomfortable,” he snarked.

Slowly, as she heard Watney trot away to hopefully get her some coffee, she shook her way out of her blankets and swept her feet over to the floor. Johanssen finally pulled her back off of the mattress, opting to use the opportunity for a lengthy morning stretch. Still bleary eyed, she heard the faint sounds of Watney’s steps approaching her.

“I know ‘ya didn’t ask for it, but you don’t even need to say it,” he said with a smirk as he lifted a steaming cup towards her.

Thank God, she mused as she grabbed the cup.

Johanssen took the cup and took a quaint sip of the coffee. Just enough to get some of her mental capacity back, at least. Once she had the mental awareness to perform tasks such as blinking, she took a second, longer sip. Here, drinking speed was everything. There was a very fine line between getting over caffeinated from drinking too quickly and having a garbage morning from not drinking quickly enough, so she took her time to meticulously tune her drinking speed.

Once done, she cleared her throat as she lowered the cup into her lap. Then, staring at the man in front of her, she waited for him to say something. Anything. Unfortunately, she didn’t account for the possibility of an awkward silence. So the two of them stared at each other, waiting for something to kick start their conversation.

“Eh, fuck it,” Watney muttered under his breath. “You awake? I was giving you a moment to wake up, you don’t look like you’re gonna say anything.”

“I was waiting for you to say something,” Johanssen admitted. “I thought you might’ve looked at the daily message dump already.”

Mark let out an airy snort. “Nope. I was waiting for you so we could look at it together.”

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded if you just read the messages by yourself,” she insisted. “I would’ve appreciated an extra hour of sleep.”

“I already gave you an extra hour!” Watney asserted with an eyeroll. “Fuck me Johanssen, we even have 40 minute longer days here! If I just let you sleep in, you’d go for, like, 18 hours.”

“Well, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t… ”

She saw Watney roll his eyes even harder as he finally got up. “I’ll just assume that the caffeine’s hit your legs already. Let’s go see what NASA’s got cooking for us.”

“Alright,” she said as she followed him.

Quickly reaching the comms system on the other side of the Hab, Johanssen let out a sharp grunt as Watney reached the main chair first. Somewhat dejectedly, she settled into the smaller kitchen chair sitting next to it.

“You know,” Watney began. “I’d say the early bird gets the worm, but I sort of get the feeling that you don’t like that metaphor, huh?”

“The early bird should try getting an extra hour of sleep,” she retorted. “I think it might enjoy that.”

She watched as Watney powered up the Hab intercom systems, checking the Pathfinder line for new messages. While the Hab systems hadn’t been initially connected to Pathfinder’s communication line, it had been easy enough for the duo to repurpose another two weather stations for the job. She still thought that pinging the signal to the Hab via Rover 2 was a waste, but NASA had thoroughly vetoed her on that front, citing that a Hab without a communications array could barely receive any signals. The organization was apparently more sure about the signal reaching Rover 2 than it reaching the Hab.

She scoffed at nothing in particular. Oh NASA, how it loved to spend time being wasteful, as Watney always said.

“Anything for me in particular?” she asked.

“Not really,” he replied, closing the last message. “It’s mostly just them whining to me in particular or the two of us together.”

Johanssen was hardly surprised. NASA had been putting most of their effort into the engineering and botany side of things, leaving Watney swamped while she had basically received nothing. At least Commander Lewis said she’d give her a couple of ChemCam requests.

“Did the Commander finally decide on which sample for me to run?”

“Oh, right. That. Actually, yeah. She said something about one of your Sol 68 samples? That there was a really big dark sample that wasn’t like the rest of them?”

Johanssen blinked, remembering said sample. The patch of ground near it had been a few shades darker than the normal Martian terrain, so she certainly wasn’t surprised that the Commander was taking interest in that sample in particular.

“Got it,” she said with a nod. “I’ll run the sample by myself today.”

“I have a better idea… ” Watney alluded, turning to her with a grin. “Don’t you want an extra hand with that?”

She shot a suspicious look towards him. “Do you really think that I’m letting you touch the ChemCam? After the one time I let you use it back on Sol 3, you got it dirty?”

“It was an accidental touch!” he defensively replied.

She snorted. “It took me two hours to recalibrate the ChemCam on Sol 4. If this mission was anything even approaching normal, I would have said that it was the worst sol I had… ”

“Well Johanssen, we don’t have a normal mission anymore. So suck it.” Watney threw an arm onto her shoulder. “Besides, we’ve got 1400 sols on this planet, so we’ve got the time for trial and error!”

She accusingly squinted at him even more. “I’m teaching you how to recalibrate and clean the ChemCam this sol,” she asserted. “If you fuck it up again, you’re the one fixing it.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug.

“Although, are you sure you have the time? You’ve been pretty busy with all of NASA’s instructions for the past few sols.”

“I was,” he acknowledged, “But I think they’re done. The worry warts over at the botany department have finally admitted that my crops are fine. I just need to do the typical depth management for each plant and what not. Shouldn’t take more than three hours.”

“And the airlock studies NASA sent us?”

Watney smiled brightly. “I wrapped them up last sol, so NASA says we’re fine now. I’ll spare you the details of all of the ways you can combine duct tape, the resin, and some of our spare Hab canvas, but rest assured that even NASA is fine with the airlocks now. They even had me run a total Hab check, so, in short, I’ve done everything that I can do.”

“Cool. Although, just wondering, you said that there was something for both of us?”

Watney shook his head. “As you might have expected, the doctors at NASA are giving us some shit over our rationing plans. They’ve begrudgingly accepted 1500 calories a day for me, but they’re all still fussy about 1000 a day for you.”

Ah. That made sense. Even the Doc needed a few sols of coaxing before he agreed to it. She gave him a short nod in response.

“Well, I don’t want to hold us up, so I’ll go get the ChemCam ready.” Johanssen then took a step back from the computer, turning towards the device.

“Actually, one more thing. NASA gave us an update on the supply probe. It’ll be a tumbler full of food, and one of us will drive to wherever it lands once it gets here. Probably once we spruce up Rover 1 again, a few hundred sols in the future.” Watney momentarily paused, stopping to shake his head. “Fuck me, a few hundred sols in the future! I’m still really fucking thankful that NASA happened to have a big booster lying around from another mission!”

She raised an eyebrow in concern. “Is it doing fine? I know that the timing on the supply is going to be rough… ”

“They say they’re doing fine, though I have my doubts,” he stated. “But NASA keeps saying that the world’s still rooting for us, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they pulled a rabbit out of their hat.”

She bit back a sigh, trying not to dampen the mood. Public support or not, supply missions still needed time for assembly and time to get to Mars, and the laws of physics were not particularly swayed by public sentiments.

“Guess we can hope,” she finished, biting her tongue just a little.

“I will say that the probe’s called Iris,” Watney quickly amended. “Who NASA apparently elaborated to us as the goddess of rainbows. So yeah, we’ve got a gay probe coming to save us.”

Johanssen stopped for a moment before shaking her head slowly.

“Oh Watney… ” she said with a groan. “Of all the things to mention to me… ”

“Actually, we should probably make some requests for the resupply.” He suddenly sat straight in his chair. “Fuck me, I can actually get some Dr. Who episodes on this planet!”

She chuckled lightly. “Do you really want to bother NASA with that?”

He stopped, pausing for a second before smugly grinning towards her.

“Actually you’re right. We don’t need NASA to give us anything other than food. So we definitely shouldn’t request anything non-essential, like, I dunno, coffee.”

The look of bewilderment etched on to her face sharply contrasted with Watney’s smugness.

“Fuck you,” she bluntly replied.

“Glad to hear it,” he beamed back.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mindy nervously glanced around the room that she had walked into. It was the definition of a mess. Clothes were draped on every nook and cranny. Empty ramen cases and crumpled printouts littered the floor. Nestled on the brown couch, which proudly displayed a variety of suspicious dark stains, was a man who seemed to be dozing off. She first gazed at the wrist watch in her hand before clearing her throat.

“Um, excuse me?” she cautiously began.

The man startled awake, finally staring at her.

“Uh, yeah?” he bluntly replied.

“Sorry to interrupt you sir,” she apologized.

“Don’t mention it. And just call me Rich.”

She let out a gentle breath before extending the watch over to him. “You dropped your watch in the break room. I followed you to give it back.”

Rich carefully took the watch from Mindy, running his hand along the band. He let his finger linger on top of each of the individual holes on the band.

“Did it fall into the donut box?” he asked. “There’s glaze on it.”

“Yes. I saw it fall off of your wrist while you were grabbing a donut.”

Rich sighed, carefully pulling the watch back to his wrist. “Guess that’s what I get for leaving my damn watch so loose.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you busier than usual? If this is how tired you normally are, I’m just a little concerned about you.”

Rich used his elbows to force his body into a sitting properly on the couch. “I am. I’ve been working on the Iris trajectories, and it’s just taking a while. Oh, and your name?”

“Mindy Park,” she promptly said. “I work in SatCon.”

“Oh.” Rich rotated his neck with an audible crack. “I’ve heard a few things about you. You were the one who found Johanssen and Watney alive, right?”

“Yeah.“

“Good for you,” he finished, getting up to walk towards the computer desk.

She waited, expecting him to add on a little more, and in the meantime found her attention wandering to the wall. The wall was decorated with dozens upon dozens of papers with near identical diagrams on them.

“This seems excessive,” she commented.

“It isn’t,” Rich responded. “No one’s sure about when Iris will launch, so I need to be ready. Even if we’re off by a day, we’ll miss the planet entirely.”

“That sounds difficult,” she said with a shudder.

“Actually, not really. At least compared to what I normally do.” The computer hummed to life, its fan beginning to whir. “The only pain in the process is that the current positions of Earth and Mars are garbage.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d be lying if I said-”

Rich immediately stopped talking.

Mindy turned to face him, and found the man frozen mid-thought as his keyboard. She delicately waved a hand in front of his face, only to yield no response.

“Rich?”

He thankfully blinked shortly thereafter.

“Hmm,” he said. “That’s interesting. Thanks for dropping in Mindy.”

“Uh, sure?” she said as he pulled up a document. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. I just have a thought experiment I want to run.”

“Alright,” she said, hoisting up the edge of a styrofoam container that must have been sitting on the floor for at least a week. “Would you mind if I came back later?”

“Help yourself,” Rich replied.

Mindy carefully maneuvered her way across the garbage laden floor and out the doorway with her piece of refuse in hand. Yeah, she’d be back, at least to help clean up his room. And maybe to get him a salad. There was no way that the amount of takeout he ate was anywhere near healthy.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 113

Watney, standing in front of the Pathfinder camera, sighed. Of all of the things that NASA had asked them to do, standing for a photo op when Pathfinder couldn’t even see their faces from within the helmets was the dumbest thing he’d heard in a while. Then again, Annie had a habit of being just a little forceful on the media side of things.

“Again, I just want to say that this idea is still dumb,” Johanssen ranted next to him. “Not only are we wasting CO2 filters for this, but no one will even be able to see our face because of our helmets!”

“You hit everything I was thinking of Beth,” he agreed. “But unfortunately for us, Annie gets her way far more than you’d expect.”

“Who?”

“Oh, right. Annie Montrose is the head of media relations back on Earth. I ‘worked’ with her on planning the Ares Live videos, and by ‘worked’, I mean she shot down all of my favorite ideas.”

“I honestly don’t know whether not I should be grateful for that or not,” she said with a shrug. 

“It was a missed opportunity!” Mark exclaimed. “Like, I wrote up Beck doing a backflip on an EVA, but NASA apparently rejected that! It would’ve been fucking amazing!”

“I can guarantee that the Doc would have been all over that,” she said with a nod. “Although, could you get closer? NASA said they’d take the picture in 20 minutes, and it’s been a little over 19 on my suit clock. I have an idea for a pose to strike.”

“Alright,” Mark said, stepping towards her. Johanssen turned to face him, with Pathfinder sitting to his left. She also delicately brought a hand around to the back of his EVA suit.

“So what’s your grand plan?”

“Just a little bit longer… ”

Johanssen held a finger up in the air as he stared back in confusion.

“Uh, Johanssen? The fuck-”

Initially, he was very caught off guard by her push. She sharply shoved him forwards, and he immediately lost his balance. Watney leaned back as much as he could, trying to avoid slamming into her.

Their two helmets hit each other with a dull thud, and Mark realized that his lips were in front of Johanssen’s. 

He also saw Pathfinder snap its photo from out of the corner of his eye.

Still just a little dazed, he slowly found his footing once more. Gaping at Johanssen, he stared blankly as he stammered out the first incomplete thoughts that he could muster.

“Holy fuck. Did we… ”

“Yep,” she proudly replied. The sysop even slowly raised and lowered her head in a smug nod. “We just sent NASA a picture of us helmet kissing.”

“HOLY FUCK JOHANSSEN!” he exclaimed, beginning to cackle. “That’s fucking hilarious! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted you to act natural,” she claimed. “And, just saying, I think this is the perfect ‘fuck you’ to NASA after not telling the crew.”

“Yeah, you’re fucking right,” he wheezed before choking out another laugh. “Although, I will say that the commander did give everyone the ‘don’t hit on the sysop’ rule, which was enforced with the threat of being forcefully escorted out of the airlock.”

“Really?” Johanssen asked, tugging Watney gently towards Airlock 2.

“Yeah.” Watney followed Johanssen’s lead back to the Hab. “I have just the lightest of theories that she might be a little jaded towards romance after commanding submarine crews. Even if I’d like to think that I’ve been on good behavior with you.”

Johanssen snorted. “God, why didn’t the Doc tell me about that? I was throwing the idea of trolling you guys about being in a relationship with him, and that would’ve been hilarious.”

“I think he valued life a little more,” he replied, stepping into the airlock after Johanssen. If the sysop had seen the look on the commander’s face when she established the rule, he knew that she would’ve understood. After that particular confrontation, he did not think that his balls could’ve receded further into his body.

After the airlock quickly cycled, the two astronauts pulled off their suits. Watney gazed over the Hab and let his pride surge. The potatoes, every one of his two thousand six hundred and forty eight potatoes, sat scattered around the Hab, his magnum opus and their new lifeline. With them, they’d have another 152 sols of survival, which brought them ever closer to their resupply mission.

“You did it Mark.”

He turned his head, and saw that Johanssen was holding his hand, standing next to him. 

“I mean that, you know.” She brushed a stray piece of hair off of her forehead. “Fixing and reprogramming Pathfinder took both of us, the hydrazine plan needed both of us, and the rover modifications needed two people. This? Entirely you. I helped maybe three sols in total, and that’s a rounding error over the sixty something sols you’ve soloed this spuds.”

He felt a light blush appear on his cheeks. “Well, I am the best botanist on the planet… ”

She rolled her eyes. “I can see the blush on your face, don’t try to hide it.” 

“Well, this was it for the planting season,” he stated. “The plants will now be dying, so we’ll have to get rid of them so the soil can lie fallow.”

“You sure about this?” she asked. “It feels weird that we have a potato farm that we can only grow crops on for a third of the time. Shouldn’t we try to grow some more?”

He sharply snorted, even bringing his shoulders up. “That’s why I’m the botanist here. But in all seriousness, we shouldn't. This is one of the few times I actually agree with the botany department back on Earth, so that should give you an idea as to how much we need to let the fields lie fallow.”

“If you say so,” she thoughtfully replied.

“Although, speaking of the potatoes, we need to store them somewhere. We can keep our next seed crop either in the Hab or Rover 2, but we also need a cold and dry area to store our new food supply. We can’t let these tubers rot, so I’ll try to make a shed out of storage containers or something.”

“Tsk,” Johanssen clicked with her tongue as she shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“We just use Rover 1,” she replied. “We can control the pressure in the rover, and its lack of a heater means that its internal temperature is basically the same as the surface of Mars. No assembly required.”

Watney paused, raising a hand up as he thought. In the meantime, he saw Johanssen clamber over to the intercom.

“... You’ve got a point,” he said with a finger gun. “Glad to have you here for ideas!”

Johanssen hummed, now staring at the screen.

“Are you just looking to see if NASA sent us anything new, or what?” He began to step towards the intercom too.

“Yeah, I was just checking, and apparently NASA’s disappointed in you. Something about the water reclaimer?” 

“Oh, that,” he brushed away. “I told you it’s been acting up for a while, and I figured out that there was a clog in it. I told the big wigs at NASA, offered to fix it, and they said no. I did it anyways because they’re a bunch of faceless bureaucrats over a million miles away, and I’ve trained in this for literal years.”

Almost mindlessly during the pause in the conversation, he silently ran through the possible scenarios for her reaction in his head. She’d either be very concerned, just a little concerned, or brush it off-

“Oh, good call Mark,” she complimented.

-or support him entirely?

“Uh, care to repeat that Johanssen?” he asked.

She tilted her head, staring at him innocently. “What? You don’t like NASA telling you what to do, I get it.”

“No, not that!” He aggressively waved a hand at her. “You’re just accepting me ignoring NASA? I thought you’d be at least a little concerned.”

The sysop brought a hand to her chin. “Hmm. I suppose I would have, but this mission’s already gone pretty off the rails, so I trust you.”

He quickly scanned her face for any indication that she may have been lying, only to come up empty handed.

“You have that much confidence in me?”

“Before Sol 6, honestly, no. But I’ve leaned on you for a lot of shit, and you keep succeeding time and time again. The potato farm, the weather station tweaks, the hydrazine chimney, and the list goes on! If I doubted your ability to fix a clog, I think that’d be just a bit of an insult.”

Watney gaped at her.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“What’s surprising about that?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I… didn’t think anyone would trust me that much,” he remarked. “Personal opinions aside, NASA has a reputation that’s sort of hard to beat, and I think a lot of astronauts would listen to them. Definitely the commander and Martinez due to their military backgrounds, probably Beck and Vogel, and I was pretty sure you would too. Until now, that is.”

She let out a gentle breath, grabbing her neck as she glanced away.

“Well, I guess being stranded together on Mars is the solar system’s best trust building exercise, huh?”

“Ha!” Mark wheezed. “Guess so. I will say that I also think that you’re even more impressive due to all of this Mars fuckery.”

“Care to share why?” she asked with a shrug.

“Your normal math skills are nuts. Pinpointing the Hermes in the sky, running the ration numbers over a solid 20 pages of notes, sysop skills so ridiculous that you code entire games out of boredom, that list is probably as impressive as yours is for me! But honestly, you have the best problem solving skills ever. Checking the airlocks is all I need to say with respect to that skill set of yours!”

Johanssen stared back at him with an ever brightening smile.

“Basically, what I’m trying to say is if I was at gunpoint, I’d trust you with my life to save me,” he said with a matching smile.

“Take a bullet and land face down,” Johanssen quipped. “It worked for the comms array.”

“Fuck me Johanssen… ” he wheezed. “You’re amazing. Don’t change.”

“I’ll be right here.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Teddy Sanders looked over the meeting panel, already concerned. Granted, there were issues such as which team would manage the Iris resupply and how the media was handling certain recently received images, but there was one far more pressing issue for the time being.

“Okay everyone,” he asserted. “Annie, please stay silent.”

“Are you-”

“Don’t. Venkat, the management issue will wait. And everyone, our new guest is Maurice Stein, the current manager of the EagleEye 3 booster.” After gesturing to him with his other hand, Maurice made a curt nod. “We have quite a few issues, but right now, one in particular must be addressed right now.”

“And that is?” Mitch inquired.

Bruce cleared his throat. “The resupply’s 2 weeks behind schedule, and that’s still being a little generous.”

With a quick glance, Teddy saw varying degrees of concern on everyone else’s faces while he still bit his tongue.

Bruce continued. “And no, extra funding isn’t going to help. Extra manpower isn’t going to help. The issue is that the equipment can only go so fast, and we can’t floor literally everything for a solid two months. We just need more time.”

“Two weeks?” Teddy probed.

“Ideally, 15 days.”

“All right.” Teddy quietly scrawled ‘15 days’ into his personal notepad. “First, Dr. Keller, can we extend the food supply that Johanssen and Watney have by 15 days?”

“With all due respect sir, no.” The somewhat manic look on Dr. Keller’s face worked in unison with her hint of exasperation. “The entirety of the medical department still agrees that Johanssen’s current ration plan is unsustainable. The only approval has come from Dr. Beck, and even he is only somewhat fine with it. And Watney’s rationing is not much better, especially given how much energy he has to expend on equipment maintenance and crop management.”

Teddy nodded. “Understood. Hypothetically, how long could the two of them survive without food?”

“Not very long. Given that they are both already malnourished, I’d give them three weeks of survival at a maximum.”

“What about driving a rover?” Venkat immediately inquired. “There’s no way that we’re landing Iris close enough to the Ares 3 Hab that they wouldn’t have to drive to it.”

Keller sighed. “Four days, and that’s being generous. Especially on Johanssen’s behalf.”

Teddy matched Dr. Keller’s sigh. “Okay, the landing date’s firm. Bruce, is there any corner left that you could cut to save time?”

“Every corner’s already been cut,” Bruce exasperated. “I showed you the Iris plans, we’ve optimized the whole thing right up until we ship it to Canaveral.”

“Maurice,” Teddy said, turning to him. “I understand that you’ve requested 13 days for the whole mounting process, but we need every day that we can get. Can you do it in less than 13 days?”

“I planned on using three days to mount the probe and ten days for the inspections. I could hypothetically bring the mounting time down to two days, but the inspections are time based. They can’t be shortened.”

“How often do those inspections reveal a problem?” Teddy cautiously asked.

Maurice flinched, and out of the corner of his eye, Teddy saw Venkat and Mitch flinch too.

“You can’t be serious,” Maurice stammered. “Are you suggesting that we skip the inspections?”

“No, I’m asking how often they reveal a problem.”

Maurice drew in a slow breath through clenched teeth.

“Maybe one in twenty launch inspections find something, and about half of those inspections reveal something mission critical.”

“2.5 percent,” Venkat mused. “Normally, that would be enough to ground a mission, and keep in mind the fact that if Iris fails, we don’t get a second shot at this.”

“I know,” Teddy replied. “But ‘normally’ hasn’t existed since Sol 6, and at this point, a 97.5 percent chance is better than nothing. But everyone else, we need to step up our game.”

“I’ve got a really dumb idea,” Mitch muttered. “Dr. Keller, you might want to hear this.”

“Uh, sure?” Keller asked, tilting her head towards Mitch.

“Could we try using a sedative on one of them?”

She blinked, clearly confused and concerned.

“What!?”

“If we hypothetically put one of them into a coma, they could hypothetically stretch out the food supplies long enough for us to finish the inspections.”

“No,” she asserted, boldly stepping forwards. “They don’t even have the proper medical equipment or chemicals to support an induced coma. I can almost assure you that it would be fatal!”

“That’s enough,” Teddy abruptly intervened. “Everyone, I understand that we are currently in a very precarious situation, not just with the Iris probe.”

Annie let out a frustrated snort, but otherwise remained silent.

“But this is the biggest challenge NASA’s ever faced. This isn’t the time to complain. If we hesitate, Mark Watney and Beth Johanssen die. Do all of you understand?”

Everyone paused for a moment before nodding more or less in unison.

______________________________________________________________________________

“We had bananas in the break room?” Rich asked, still confused about the yellow fruit in his hands.

“Believe it or not, yes,” Mindy replied, throwing a few bento boxes into the trash bag in her arms. “The break room stocks up on them every Wednesday, but they’re in such high demand that they’re gone in a few hours.”

“If it’s sort of rare, why did you bring it to me?”

“Eat it,” she suggested. “Healthy food is good for you.”

Rich let out a gentle scoff before beginning to peel the banana. “I will, but you don’t need to be concerned about me. My life’s been fine up to now.”

“Surviving and thriving are two different things,” she shot back. “And besides, you look even more tired than the last time I saw you. Is that because you’re working on your thought experiment on top of your normal work?”

“It’s just the thought experiment,” he blandly replied. “I’ve technically been on vacation for the past few days just because I want to see it through.”

“Is it really that bad?” she inquired, tying her plastic bag shut.

“I’m waiting for some supercomputer time to finish it. It’s that bad.”

She wheezed, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “You know what? I was on the fence about this, but some day, I want to treat you to lunch. We could go to that sushi place that the astronaut candidates go to.”

“The really fancy one with the monthly fireworks shows? Really, you don’t have to,” he suggested, gesturing with his free palm out towards her.

“No, I insist. Really. Besides, when’s the last time you actually went and ate at a restaurant?”

Rich rolled his eyes.

“Fine. At least spare my dignity somewhat by allowing us to split the bill.”

“Got it. Best of luck with your project,” Mindy replied, walking out of his office with her newly filled bag of trash.

Rich took the time to note that his office floor was actually visible. He had littered it with convenience store garbage ever since he moved in, so it was odd to actually see the floor. But it was an interesting type of odd, to say the least.

Rich gingerly took a bite of his banana, and it was better than expected. More flavorful. He mused that maybe Mindy had a point.

______________________________________________________________________________

“So the launch is today!?”

“ I just bloody pulled up the channel Crystal, of course it’s today! ”

Crystal Johanssen let out a shaky breath, staring at the rocket on the television.

“I know, I know, it’s just that this is sort of terrifying. The ‘make it or break it’ day, so to speak.”

William Johanssen let out a sigh, pinching the ridge of his nose. “ Rest assured, NASA knows what they’re doing. NASA has thousands of very talented personnel, and they have an incredible amount of resources at their disposal as well. ”

“But wasn’t there that news about them cutting corners or something a few days ago? Shouldn’t we be worried about that?”

“ It… was necessary, ” William admitted. “ They had to skip inspections because they simply don’t have the time. As it is, this probe won’t arrive until three sols after Beth and her companion run out of food, on Sol 556. ”

“I… can they even still get to the probe while starving!?” she exclaimed.

“ Hopefully. The Doctor has rightfully pointed out that our little sister has always been more capable than what we give her credit for. I believe that she’ll find a way. ”

“...three...two...one...” the TV chimed.

“ Now listen, ” William spoke, pointing at the screen, “ Let us watch the launch. ”

Crystal turned her head towards the screen, and was greeting with a plume of fire.

She was no stranger to rocket launches. After all, she had watched Beth launch on an Orion rocket just a few months ago. God, just a few months ago. Things were fine then. Beth was still on Earth, still hanging out with the Doc and complaining about the existence of mornings. Now? She was fighting just to survive.

“Shimmy’s getting violent,” a voice from the TV reported.

“Wai-what!?” she stammered. “Will, is that-”

“ It’s not perfect, but I’m certain that it will be fine, ” Will stated. She couldn’t help but detect a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Are you sure?”

“ To be honest, no. But we’re not NASA officials, or even NASA employees. We can’t do anything. All we can do is hope. ”

She clenched her teeth together. God, this sucked. But this would be fine, she would be alright, they would all be-

The rocket snapped.

Crystal, still half hysterical, saw the moment out of the corner of her eye, but she immediately redirected her attention.

She watched as the upper half of the rocket snapped like a toothpick, careening into the unsuspecting lower half. Immediately, the contact point between the two halves glowed red. The crimson glow quickly grew to engulf the entire ship, before the entire display disappeared, masked under a cloud of pitch black smoke lined with burning white veins.

She gaped there, breathless for just a second.

“That… that’s not supposed to happen, is it?”

“ ... No…. No, no no! ” her brother exclaimed. “ It couldn’t have… NASA… the probe… ”

“Bro?” She looked at him in concern, but only found even more concern in his eyes.

“ ... Yes? ”

“What’s gonna happen to Beth?”

Will gaped for a moment. She expected him to say something. Anything. He always tried to explain the circumstances, always tried to say something, because he was not the type to just stop and cry! Even during that terrifying night at the hospital, that horrible, horrible night over thirty years ago, he still kept going. So by all means, she expected him to say something, anything!

Instead, he just pulled his head down into his palm and let out a sob. With that, she knew exactly what was going to happen to Beth.

Turning back towards the TV screen, she was once again frozen in shock. The pain of seeing the universe dig her sister’s grave still burned within her chest, but the new sight was so ironic that she felt her lips pucker in disgust. On the screen, one inconspicuous message proudly displayed itself to the world.

JOHANSSEN: Can we get confirmation that the launch went well?

Chapter Text

SOL 153

JPL: We regret to inform you two that the Iris probe experienced a rapid unplanned disassembly en route to low Earth orbit. Please stand by as we come up with a new plan.

Johanssen couldn’t believe it. Not seriously. She looked over the message once more, and looked at it a third time for good measure. A little voice inside of her head wanted to believe that she was simply misunderstanding the message. That the Iris resupply was fine.

But no, this was NASA. If anything, they always made sure that their instructions were detailed.

A rapid unplanned disassembly. She had joked with Watney about the term before, hadn’t she? It was a phrase so cumbersome that it almost seemed like a joke, something along the lines of SNAFU or FUBAR. A term that you would almost certainly never use, because NASA would never mess up that badly in anything. It was just one of the hundreds of contingency plans that NASA drilled them on, but would never actually happen.

It wasn’t funny anymore.

Mindlessly, she immediately slammed both of her elbows into the desk in front of her with a sharp thud. Not even stopping to wince at the pain, she propped her head up on the table with her arms, covering her entire field of vision with her hands. It wasn’t completely dark, but it was close enough. Everything they had done had been built around the fact that NASA would have been able to send them a resupply mission. That their food supply extension was good enough. But by itself, it wasn’t even half of the sols required to get to Ares 4.

They could last until Sol 553, but a supply mission sent at the normal transfer window wouldn’t have arrived until around Sol 900. That was the only other option, wasn’t it? NASA only had one booster that could have pulled off an Earth-Mars transfer now, and that booster was now resting in a myriad of pieces at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. At their current ration rate, trying to cram in an extra ten sols of survival was already laughable, even when ignoring every doctor at NASA. An extra four hundred sols wasn’t happening. Period.

For two people.

The thought crashed into her mind and she winced, clenching her teeth down as it hit her. It wouldn’t have been a perfect doubling, but it would have been close. Something in the region of Sol 1000 was actually practical. For one person.

God, anything but that. 

A hand pressed down on her shoulder. For a second, she thought that the Doc was there, ready with soothing words on his tongue. For everything that she enjoyed about Watney, the Doc had a way with words. He could smile just as brightly as the man sitting next to her, and he also had a gentle tenderness with his words that she desperately wanted to hear. That doctor-like aura of authority that was the most soothing damn thing she had ever experienced.

Watney stared back at her with an expression that was sheepish, if anything. He stared at her for a few seconds before clearing his throat with a light choke.

“Guess... we’re not getting that coffee resupply, huh?”

Johanssen went silent, dumbfounded. 

He had to be kidding.

She gaped at him like he had grown a second head.

“Watney!?" she exclaimed, confused. "You do REALIZE what this means, right!?”

The botanist let out a long exhale, reclining in his seat with his hands behind his head. 

“Yeah. I guess we’ll have to replan. Easy come, easy go, I suppose.”

She gaped at him in shock.

“YOU SUPPOSE!?”

“Eh, Mars doesn’t cooperate, and I guess Murphy’s law won’t be cooperating either. But hey, perk up. We’ll manage another miracle,” he brushed off, not even staring her in the eye.

The thought of only one of them surviving crawled up her neck again, and Johanssen felt like she was choking its sinister embrace. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she felt her frustration bubbling and her patience cracking.

“D-Do you even UNDERSTAND what this means!?” she yelled, voice already hoarse. “How FUCKED we are!? We can’t even manage an extra TEN SOLS, and now we need FIVE HUNDRED!” She choked out a sob, the fight in her momentarily weakening. “God... we might actually die here. Will and Crystal, the Commander, the Doc, oh my God, the Doc-”

“Hey, uh... that actually reminds me of something.”

Johanssen spaced out for just a moment before staring Watney in the eye. There was something in his expression that seemed familiar, but she just couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Distantly, she felt the final remnants of her patience trickle away.

“I, um. Just remembered that the Cubs have had a season while we’ve been stuck on this rock,” he said with a shit eating grin. “So, let’s step back for a bit, shall we? How do you think they’ve been doing?”

Step back for a bit. As if they could just forget that they were both going to die.

Johanssen could have sworn that she heard her patience snap.

“Uh, Johanssen? How do you-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BOTANIST!”

She saw as Watney’s pupils shrunk, he still didn’t lean away. Johanssen raised a fist at him, and quickly lined it up with his lower chin. She could have socked him square in the jaw. A little voice in her head yelled at her to stop, but it was nowhere near as powerful as the torrent of pain surging in her chest.

“I am SICK of YOUR SHIT! ‘Oh, things will be FINE, we’ll be GREAT, we live in a PERFECT WORLD where EVERYONE gets their HAPPILY EVER AFTER!’ Well, GUESS WHAT you fucking MORON!? THIS ISN’T A FUCKING JOKE! This hasn’t BEEN a joke, no matter HOW MANY fucking braincells you lack!”

Only then did Watney lean back, with fear shining in his eyes. She had seen him angry, happy, and occasionally sad, but never afraid. The little voice in her head strained itself even more, crying out that she was going far beyond anything that was reasonable.

But at that moment, Johanssen couldn’t have cared less.

“Unlike YOU, I actually CARE about the fact that people CARE FOR ME! That my family will be fucking crying for THE REST OF THEIR LIVES! That the Doc’s going to be having NIGHTMARES for the REST OF HIS LIFE! That this is GENUINELY A FUCKING THREAT TO MY LIFE, and that US SURVIVING ISN’T A FUCKING GUARANTEE! Tell me Watney, did you even THINK about the actual CONSEQUENCES of this!? That MAYBE, just MAYBE, only ONE OF US might be walking off of this planet ALIVE!? I’VE ACTUALLY BEEN USING MY BRAIN CELLS WHILE YOU’VE BEEN TOO BUSY MAKING JOKES, YOU PATHETIC SHIT! I’VE BEEN BUSY TRYING TO SURVIVE, WHILE YOU’VE BEEN USELESS!”

“I...” Watney quickly rose out of his chair, nearly tripping the over legs. “I...”

“Shut the fuck up, you walking joke,” she growled.

“I...”

She slammed her fist into the counter. “And get the fuck away the from me,” she threatened, voice as deep as she could make it. “And so help me, if you make ANY joke whatsoever, I will make your little injury back on Sol 6 look like a mild inconvenience. Understood?”

“I...”

She glanced away, and shortly thereafter heard a quick series of footsteps trail away from her. Good.

Screw Mark. She didn’t need him. The reaper knocking at their doorstep, pocket watch in hand. Everything had already been stretched to its limit, there was no Plan B. She ran the numbers before, and knew that there was no way the two of them were getting back to Earth.

The two of them.

Yeah, she’d have to tell him eventually. Probably in a way that involves less screaming. But that could wait.

If they had anything left, they had time in limbo to burn.

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 280

In all honesty, Martinez was still just a little dazed about what had happened. That the Iris probe failed. That Johanssen and Watney…

Might actually die. For real.

The entirety of the crew had the misfortune of being available to watch the launch. They had requested to watch the stream, and NASA had given them the spare time to do so. The pre-launch discussion they all had was arguably the happiest Beck or the Commander had been since Sol 6.

At least, until Iris went up in a cloud of black smoke.

There were so many similarities between the RUD and Sol 6. How the commander’s tone practically shattered when it happened. How he still wanted to pinch himself. But the worst part of the Iris failure in particular was how Beck screamed like there was no tomorrow. He had never heard anyone scream that loudly in his life, and never wanted to again. 

That didn’t happen back on Sol 6, when Beck had been just as busy during the emergency evacuation as everyone else. Now?  Beck really didn’t have anything holding him back.

The crew splitting up shortly after that was more or less a given.

Martinez couldn’t help but feel concerned about Beck. The commander had been doing her best to help him, but he saw the pain on her face. He had to try something

So cautiously, Martinez set out to find Beck. It wasn’t difficult. He walked up to the door of Beck’s room, reasoning out that if Beck was having a bad time, he’d probably want to have as much privacy as possible. The door sitting there solidly shut said everything.

Martinez gave the door a gentle knock, and a whimper came from the other side. There was a brief pause as he waited for a response.

“... Come in,” Beck almost whispered.

Martinez let himself in, and found Beck curled on the bed. His hair was even messier than usual, and he saw a dampness underneath his eyes that was almost certainly from his tears.

“Do you want to talk, man?”

Beck remained silent for a moment before managing to slowly push himself off of his bed.

“Actually… sort of,” he mumbled. “It’s sort of random, pretty dark, and might be just a little offensive, but there is something I want to ask you about.”

“Fire away,” he said with a shrug

Beck took the opportunity to sit on his bed straight. Turning towards him, he saw Beck’s face speckled with frustration and despair.

“Why are you religious?”

Martinez blinked, momentarily confused.

“Um.” He blinked again, still parsing the thought. “Come again?”

Beck let out a frustrated sigh.

“I mean… the idea of a God. That someone’s up there, watching us. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Despite everything, Martinez couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “Watney used to give me quite a bit of lip over it, so you’ve got your work cut out for you. I mean, look at the Big Bang. String theory. Stuff that makes even the most of ludicrous of physicists’ heads spin. We don’t know everything, so who’s to say that there isn’t a God?”

“I… ” Beck dragged a hand along the side of his face. “But… if there is a God, why would he just let so many things slide. Like war, death, stranding people on Mars!”

Beck clenched his eyes shut before biting back a scream.

“Oh. So that’s how this ties back in.” Martinez lowered his shoulders. “Do you mind if I sit down next to you?”

Beck took a second to think before eventually scooting over. Martinez took the hint and sat right next to him before cautiously clearing his throat.

“Not gonna lie, I agree. There are a lot of bits of life that suck, Johanssen and Watney’s situation notwithstanding. But, the way I see it, God or no God, a lot of it comes down to belief.”

Beck turned to him, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? Care to explain?”

“No matter how smart you are or how strong you are, you aren’t going to be able to do anything if you don’t think you can do anything. I talked with Watney about a long time ago. Like, years ago. Stuck with me, for some reason. It boils down to the fact that if you stop believing, you’re done for. The universe isn’t going to just give you a free lunch.”

Beck stared into the empty space in front of him. Martinez let out a gentle exhale before continuing.

“Basically, what I’m trying to get at is that I believe in God ‘cause I want to believe that he exists, and that helps me move forward. Watney might not believe in God, but I know he likes trying. ‘Watney’ and ‘giving up’ don’t really go together. But you keep hoping and trying because when you stop, that’s when you stop moving forwards.”

“I… dunno.” Beck just shook his head. “I’m scared. Worried. Terrified. Don’t you think that, you know, they can’t really do much more than what they’ve done already?”

Martinez stared right back at Beck, clenching his teeth together with a firm determination.

“I think they’ll be fine,” he assured. “Three months ago, if someone told us that not only had Johanssen and Watney lived, but that they also colonized Mars, drove hundreds of kilometers, and fixed a decades old probe, would you have believed them?”

“... Probably not.”

“Yeah. That’s already pretty fucking insane. So what if the Iris probe failed? All of Earth’s still behind the two of them, along with all four of us up here. So help me, if there’s a time and place for miracles, it’d be for them.”

Beck sighed, slumping against the wall behind them.

“But… don’t… you know. Don’t you think this seems impossible? That they’re screwed?”

Martinez stared Beck in the eye, flashing an expression he remembered from a certain blond botanist he knew.

“It’s impossible vs. Watney and Johanssen combined,” he smiled. “A two on one. Impossible’s gonna have a rough time.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 154

Watney didn’t get scared. He was an astronaut, why the fuck would he ever be afraid? He was a badass, the colonizer of Mars!

Then again, Johanssen was too.

This was a joke. He was good at making friends and being agreeable with other people, and any time he actually did piss people off, he apologized. He liked to think that he could fix relationships about as well as he could fix spaceships. The shrinks back at NASA had cleared him with every damn thought experiment they could have thrown at him. He could do this.

But at the same time, an odd hesitation shuddered from within him.

Johanssen did yell. Yeah, she was angry during the Pathfinder-NASA censorship incident, but he knew formless rage when he saw it. He could take insults. And yelling. But there was something about the way she snapped last sol that was just so characteristically un-Johanssen-like. But things must have still been fine, right?

“Johanssen?”

No response.

“Johanssen?” he asked again, this time getting up.

Was she still angry at him? He had messed up before. Back on Earth a load of times, and even back during the hydrazine incident. Yeah, maybe he was a little insensitive last sol, but that was…

Was that fine?

Watney quickly got up off of his bed, moving over to the intercom system. He found the sysop still sitting at the computer, typing away at some sort of project. His first hope was that she hadn’t stayed at the computer throughout the whole night. His first thought was that her sysop background wouldn’t have exactly made that all too infeasible.

“Johanssen?” he asked once more, subdued.

She didn’t flinch, but at the very least she stopped typing.

“... Do you want me to listen to you, at least? I won’t say anything. Promise.”

“... Yeah,” she huffed, frustrated and tired at once. “Give me a moment.”

“Sure.” 

He could have said something, but it was pretty fucking clear that she wanted a little peace and quiet. And to be perfectly honest, he didn’t mind it too much.

“Thirty years,” she stated, still looking at her computer.

“Huh?”

“Thirty years,” she repeated, turning to him. “The Doc’s known me for almost thirty years, and I’ve known him for quite literally my entire conscious life. And now… he’s gone.”

Mark remained silent.

Johanssen turned towards him, remorse in her eyes. She clenched both of her hands together into tight fists, clutching one of them into her chest. Eventually, she winced, pulling her gaze away.

“Look Mark, I… want to be sorry for last sol, I really do. It’s just… God, this is a mess. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

He let out a wistful sigh. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“This is a mess,” she reiterated. “Look, I understand you. I know how you roll. You make jokes in order to cope with tough situations, I get it. But I’m not as strong as you. I… just can’t do it.”

His eye lids clenched together tightly, and he turned away slightly. Johanssen didn’t seem to notice.

“I know I’ve said it to death, but the Doc’s been my friend, and he’s an amazing one. He’s always so a-dork-ably caring and he smiles just as brightly as you and whenever I’m with him there’s never an hour where he doesn’t show that he cares for me. And Crystal and Will, God, where do I begin? They’re my siblings, yes, they drive me up the wall sometimes, but that’s what siblings do. They’re supposed to annoy you with random parentheses in your code and wake you up at god awful hours in the morning for breakfast and just be there. We were supposed to always be there for each other, and now, here I am. I’ll never see them again.”

Mark bit his tongue. He could listen. He would be fine.

“And yeah, maybe I didn’t always agree with my parents, but I know that they still care for me. At the end of the day, they still loved me enough to send me to school and to raise me into becoming an astronaut. I still miss them.”

He bit back a sniffle, already feeling a dampness in his eyes.

“And, yeah, I know I sort of brushed it aside last sol, but I don’t think… I don’t think...”

Johanssen trailed off, stopping to sniffle.

“Johanssen?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t think both of us are making it off of this planet alive. But one of us could.”

Watney couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

Johanssen continued. “L-look. I don’t like it, but it might be the only plan we’ve got.”

A part of him wanted to deny it. To believe that there was another way, because he didn’t want Johanssen to die.

To die.

No. No, no, no. They’d be fine. They would be! They had to be!

“We just… don’t have the food supplies. If we both try to survive, we’re both going to die. And, I’m sorry to say it, but I think it should be you who survives.”

Watney couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening.

“I know you want me to live too, but you’re the botanist and the engineer. You can survive by yourself. You don’t need me.”

He did need her.

“So, um. That’s why… um…”

He heard Johanssen trail off, and knew exactly what she was looking at. Staring at the Hab floor below him, he watched as tears slowly dripped down, splashing on the soil laden floor.

“Watney?” she asked, concerned, shocked, and confused all in one. “Are you actually crying?”

He almost violently wiped away at his face, only to make no progress whatsoever. He tried to bite his tongue again, only to let out an absolutely disgusting sob. 

He didn’t do this. This wasn’t what he did. He never cried because crying just made him feel terrible. He was an astronaut, he was good under pressure, and he was certainly better than a sniveling child.

At least, he should have been.

Mark felt a pair of arms engulf him. A small but delicate pair of arms doing their best to console him with all of the warmth he always tried to share with them.

“I… Just give me...” he heaved.

“No, Watney,” she said. “You don’t have to be strong now. I… just told you something horrible. You can let it out.”

“I don’t NEED to let it out. Really...” he cried before heaving again. “This… just makes me feel worse. It’s useless and I-”

“It’s alright to feel bad for once,” Johanssen said, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re still human. Just because you’re a badass astronaut doesn’t mean that you aren’t allowed to cry.”

“But-”

“Look at me,” she said, pulling an arm away from him to gesture at herself. “I threatened to beat you into a pulp over this last sol, and I’d like to think that’s not too bad. For this mess, at least. I know I said this last sol, but no jokes, okay? This is horrible. You have the right to cry.”

Every inch of Watney’s mind wanted to argue. To stop. To pull out a quip and to go back to being a jokester, because that was always less painful than this.

But at the same time, Johanssen was there. Warmth radiated off of her body, and she gently stroked his back. Even when the entire rest of the world was nowhere to be found, she was here. And he trusted her.

He didn’t want to be strong.

So Watney leaned into Johanssen, reached behind her tightly, and let his tears stain Johanssen’s shirt, still faintly smelling of coffee. 

Just once. Just once would be fine.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Are we all here?”

“I suppose we are Teddy,” Venkat replied. “Although, this isn’t really much of a meeting.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Maurice isn’t here anymore because we no longer have a booster, and Annie isn’t here for some pretty obvious reasons. I also decided not to call over Dr. Shields until we have more of an idea about what we’ll do. Before we start, I just want everyone to say any thoughts that they’ve already made.”

Mitch looked down at the ground and snorted. “What is there to say? The Iris mission failed, and now we don’t have a booster large enough to send a decent payload to Mars. I think it goes without saying that we can’t just make a booster in just a few weeks.”

“The only choice we have left is to simply wait until the normal transfer window, or maybe a little earlier,” Venkat stated, spacing out. “I talked with a couple of astrophysicists earlier, and they say that if we use a larger Atlas and launch shortly before the transfer window, we could get to Mars around Sol 800. At least, if we’re willing to push the limits on the systems again.”

Teddy shook his head. “After what just happened, I doubt that we should try to push the limits again. Even if this hypothetical Iris 2 does work, how is a Sol 800 landing going to save them?”

Venkat remained silent.

“Venkat, c’mon,” Mitch asserted. “Spill the beans.”

“We don’t,” Venkat replied.

“Eh, what?” Confusion appeared on Mitch’s face. “What’s the point in sending a resupply if we can’t save both of them?”

“We won’t save both of them.”

Initially, Teddy was confused. Venkat took his time with explanations, but this was something else entirely. He implied that they could and couldn’t save them, and he seemed to be deliberately evasive. Teddy replayed Venkat’s last statement in his mind.

We can’t save both of them.

Both of them.

He suddenly knew exactly what Venkat was implying.

“Oh.” 

Teddy wasn’t shocked. Or angry. Or, in all honesty, all that surprised. The medical department had fully established that the two astronauts had cut their diet plans down so low that any extension whatsoever was absolutely impossible. But feeding only one astronaut was easier than feeding two.

“What?” Mitch asked with an eye arched at him. “What’s Venkat saying?”

“He’s saying that if we want to, we can save one of them, but only one.”

Silence lingered for a few seconds. Venkat looked at the ground in shame.

“Wait,” Mitch asserted with a sharp venom in his tone. “Venkat, you can’t be-”

“I know,” Venkat replied, letting out a long sigh. “This is a horrible idea. A PR nightmare is the least of our troubles. Telling Watney and Johanssen that only one of them can survive is, to be blunt, a horrible, horrible idea.”

“They’re a crew.” Mitch boldly took a step forward. “They won’t just roll over and let the other die.”

“We’re choosing between one death or two deaths at this point Mitch,” Venkat replied. “We can’t save both, we just don’t have the equipment.”

Mitch looked up towards Teddy, eyes pleading.

“Teddy, c’mon. You have to have something. Anything!”

He made sure not to stare back at Mitch.

“We don’t have a booster. This isn’t a question about morals, this is a question of technology. Like it or not, this may be all that we can do. I’m sorry Mitch. I really am.”

He saw from the corner of his vision Mitch solidify his glare at him. He stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak. But no words left his mouth.

Teddy just sighed in response.

“We’re not committing to this plan, okay?” Teddy said. “Just… keep it in your mind. I’ll look for something else, so maybe we won’t even need it.”

The two other men in the room remained silent.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 154

Johanssen stroke Watney’s hair gently. It was weird, but he seemed to be fine with it. The two of them sat next to each other on the bed, with Watney leaning his head onto her shoulder. His long shaggy locks had grown out over the months they had spent en route to Mars, and that wasn’t even accounting for the over a hundred sols they had already spent on the red planet.

It was actually kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Watney whispered, voice quivering.

“Why are you the one apologizing?” she asked. “Again, I literally threatened to beat you to a pulp. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“A lot of things. Two things, really.” Watney nudged his head even closer to hers. “I was being an asshole. You have people you care about, and I was treating it like a joke. Jeez, that in itself’s already a hell of a fucking joke. You hear that you won’t see the people that you’ve known for literally your entire life ever again, and the random fucking guy who sort of tagged along with you tried to fucking joke about it.”

“Nah, I understand,” she said with a nod. “Jokes are your thing. Being angry that you tried to make a joke is about as reasonable as complaining that you’re an amazing engineer. It’s just who you are, and I still wouldn’t change it for the world.”

He sighed once more. “And… crying isn’t my thing. That isn’t something I learned from my parents or from any fucking tragic edgy backstory you could come up with. Take a shitty situation, cry, shitty situation feels worse. That’s just what happens, so why would you cry?”

Johanssen tilted her head towards Watney. “You know, it’s fine to feel bad once in a while.”

“Is it really?” he asked. “It just seems like a waste of time, you know?”

She lightly exhaled. “You could argue that watching shows or reading books here on Mars is a waste of time, but we still do it.”

“That’s different. Keeping spirits and motivation up is important. But crying just makes you feel like shit. You don’t need to do it.”

She couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the implications.

“Are… you implying that you bottle these emotions up?”

“Yes? No?” Watney let out an exhale that sounded like a breath, laugh, and a sob all at once. “I mean, does it count as bottling it up if you just laugh it off?”

“Yeah,” she replied, stroking Watney’s head once more.

“Really?”

She took an extra moment to really think her response over.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “You don’t need to handle things perfectly, I mean, you’re still human. Heh, funny I’m going here. I admit that I myself don’t like surprises in my plans, you called me out on that back during the hydrazine incident, but you told me that I was already good enough. That it was fine for my plans to not be perfect. Why don’t we just apply that to you?”

Watney remained silent for a moment. She stroked his hair again, and he let out another sob.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Just saying… I hate this. I hate crying.” 

“I know.”

“I hate feeling like garbage,” he said, clenching his hands together into fists.

“Well, I hate my plans going wrong,” she shot back. “But despite how smart or strong both of us are, we’re both still human. And, heh, I think we sometimes get so caught up in the fact that we’re astronauts and Martian colonists that we forget that.”

Both of them remained silent for a moment.

“Just saying, I haven’t cried like this in years,” Watney admitted. “I don’t do this, and I still hate this.”

“I don’t think you’ve been in a situation anywhere near this shitty in the past few years,” she shot back. “Like I said earlier, let me help you. It’s the least I can do.”

“I...”

Watney began to shake before he finally embraced her tightly. He let out a shaky breath, and Johanssen made sure to hold him back.

“Please… don’t leave me,” he whimpered. It was the most vulnerable she’d ever heard him.

“I… Watney?” she said, her own voice cracking. “Don’t you remember what I said? About the food situation? That I don’t think both of us are surviving?”

“Don’t leave me… Don’t leave me,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her. Maybe he hadn’t.

She put the pieces together. This was Watney, the guy who smiled bright enough for all of NASA. The goofiest man she’d ever met, and the most extroverted too. All around, an amazing guy. Just thinking about the fact that Watney of all people was breaking down in front of her still didn’t quite make sense in her head. At least, until she remembered that at the end of the day, he was still a human.

He didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t worry Watney,” she assured. “I won’t.”

“Can you...” he hitched a breath. “Can you promise me something?”

“Uhh… it depends, I guess.”

“Promise that you won’t leave me,” he said in one breath, before gasping and letting out another sob. “I think you’re right. I’m just… so fucking tired of hiding this shit. I want to cry for a million years, and then maybe a million more after that. And yeah, I heard you. Your plan. That only one of us might be able to survive. But to be honest, fuck that plan. Mars sucks. I don’t want to be stuck here alone. I don’t want you to...”

He trailed off and let out another sob.

“No matter what, wherever you go, I want to stay with you.”

She didn’t even need a second to understand what he meant.

“I...” she hitched a breath herself. “I don’t want to die either. But, at the same time, I want you to live.”

“Still,” he sobbed. “I need you. Please. Promise me that you won’t leave me.”

She didn’t need to think about whether or not she’d agree, but she still stopped. Something about his plea seemed familiar. Like she heard something similar before.

The pieces clicked together in her mind once again.

The Doc’s promise. She hadn’t even been born when the Doc made it, but both her siblings and the Doc himself had hammered it in that the Doc was more than willing to protect her.

Even if she hadn’t seen that promise in person, the sheer passion that she knew had to have backed it, the sincerity for it to have held for years…

“I don’t want to be alone. Please,” Mark begged, voice hoarse.

It seemed all too familiar now.

“Of course,” she replied, pressing a light kiss to Mark’s forehead. “I promise.”

Watney kept crying, and Johanssen cried too. Over lost time, lost lives, and people that they’d never see again. They held onto each other like there was no tomorrow. But, at the very least, a little voice in the back of her own mind assured her that no matter what came next, Watney would be there for her.

And in that moment, the idea of her leaving him alone couldn’t have been further away.

Chapter Text

Teddy glanced down at the phone, just a little confused. NASA had placed a temporary pause on unplanned phone calls ever since Sol 6, and yet, there it was, ringing in his hand. Whoever was on the other side of this call must have been rather influential. He stared at it for a second before clearing his throat to reply.

“Hello. This is Teddy Sanders speaking. Who is this?” 

“I will keep this quick,” a strong Chinese accent replied. “This is the CNSA. We have an offer for you.”

“Oh?”

“Allow for a Chinese astronaut to be selected for the Ares 5 mission.”

“That’s a rather direct proposal,” Teddy admitted. “You must know that I can’t just allow that. You guys are still in a bit of hot water after the debris fallout from the Tianwen-3 launch.”

“We know, but we can make it worth your time.”

“How?”

“Are you aware of our Taiyang Shen mission launching soon?”

“I am aware that it is a heliocentric mission, but that’s about all I know.”

“We could theoretically postpone the mission. As a result, the mission's booster could be used by NASA.”

“And what good would this booster serve for NASA?” he asked, adjusting a button on his coat.

Teddy heard the man on the other end of the line pause for a moment. 

“We have yet to tell anyone, but the Taiyang Shen is by far the largest heliocentric probe that we’ve ever produced. It’s booster can launch truly massive payloads, or, in particular, payloads during nonoptimal transfer windows.”

He paused for a few seconds, pulling the pieces together in his mind.

“In short,” the voice finished. “In exchange for adding a Chinese astronaut to Ares 5, we’ll offer a booster that could conceivably send a resupply mission to Mars.”

Teddy barely needed five seconds to pull together his answer.

“We’ll take it.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“So, how are you enjoying this?” Mindy asked

“I’m actually enjoying this a lot,” Rich admitted. He was never the biggest sushi fan, or at least he didn’t think he was a sushi fan, but this place had a level quality he didn’t realize food could have.

“Good,” Mindy replied. “I guess that’s a little bit of extra good news for the moment.”

Rich placed his current piece of sashimi back onto his plate, haphazardly dropping his chopsticks.

“Extra good news? What good news is there? Ever since the Iris RUD, NASA’s been running around like a headless chicken.”

Mindy let out a quiet gasp, loosening her grip on her chopsticks. “Oh, right. That still hasn’t gone public yet. Dr. Kapoor sometimes swings around my office for the latest update on the Ares 3 site, and he occasionally shares things with me.”

“Like what?” Rich asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not like NASA has another massive booster sitting around.”

“NASA doesn’t, but the CNSA does,” Mindy pointed out. “Don’t ask me how, but China actually has a large enough booster to send a resupply mission to Mars, and apparently Dr. Sanders has been working on negotiating for that booster.”

“What?” Rich exclaimed, almost slamming a fist into his plate. “Are you serious?”

Mindy nodded, swallowing the last of her tuna rolls in one gulp.

Rich stopped for a moment, dazed. Ideas came together in his mind, and they fit so damn perfectly together that he actually did double check all of the numbers and thoughts jumping around his head just to confirm that, yes, he was understanding them correctly.

He silently ran a finger along the edge of his plate.

“Did Dr. Kapoor mention anything about the launch date of that new resupply mission to you?”

“Actually, yeah… he said that even if NASA started building it now, this theoretical Iris 2 wouldn’t get to Mars until six weeks after Johanssen and Watney run out of food.”

“So. I don’t think you’re going to believe this. Can you contact Dr. Kapoor?”

Mindy raised an eye and both of her shoulders at that remark.

“Theoretically, yes, but why would I? We’re NASA nobodies, so we shouldn’t bother them.”

“This is important,” Rich asserted. “Remember my thought experiment?”

“Of course,” Mindy replied. “That’s why I brought you here.”

“Well, it was supposed to be just a thought experiment, but it could be useful. And to be honest, it might be a better idea than Iris 2.”

Mindy paused in shock, staring directly at Rich. He took the opportunity to fumble with his chopsticks in order to grab another sashimi roll.

The sushi piece tumbled out from between his chopsticks, and then Mindy finally replied.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m just as amazed as you that it became helpful.”

“Alright,” she asserted, propping both of her elbows onto the table while also leaning towards him. “Explain it to me. I’m interested, but I’m only telling Dr. Kapoor if this really is a good idea.”

Rich stared at the sashimi roll lying on its side on his plate before looking back at Mindy.

“Can I at least finish my meal? It can wait ten minutes.”

Mindy exhaled strongly through her nose in frustration.

“I guess that seems fair. Although, unless this is a genuinely good idea, I’m not telling them.”

“Trust me,” Rich said as he tried once more to grab the sashimi roll. “It is.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Okay, so why exactly are we letting Mindy and some random guy into this meeting?” Annie asked.

“Annie. Don’t,” Venkat asserted, quickly escorting Mindy and Rich into the meeting room. The pair quickly seated themselves at the meeting table, with Rich immediately leaning back in his chair.

“Wow, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine...” Rich deadpanned.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Everyone, please,” Teddy asserted, frustration readily visibly in his tone. “Venkat, please make this quick. It was hard enough for me to schedule a meeting due to Iris 2.”

“I second that,” Bruce said with a groan.

Venkat took in a short breath. “Alright, so Mindy Park brought it to my attention that Rich Purnell, one of the astrodynamicists, has found an alternative plan instead of executing Iris 2.”

“And that is?” Teddy asked.

“Sending the Hermes back to Mars.”

Rich smugly leaned forwards while the rest of the room remained silent.

“Really?” Annie asked, shooting a look of suspicion towards Rich. “Are you shitting us Rich?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are that it worked out this well,” Rich admitted with an extended hand. “It comes down to the fact that the ion engine on the Hermes is far more capable than any propulsion system that we could ever put on Iris 2, and that’s not even taking into account all of the velocity that the Hermes still has.”

“When would the Hermes get back to Mars?” Venkat asked.

“Sol 549,” he said, continuing to grin.

The room went silent once again.

“Holy shit,” Mitch muttered. “That’s earlier than even Iris 1. That’s so early that we wouldn’t even need a food supply extension. That could work.”

“Um...” Bruce stammered. “I hate to be a downer, but that’d still be just a flyby, and the Hermes can’t exactly drop off a care package for Johanssen and Watney. As a result, this flyby wouldn’t exactly be all that useful.”

Rich sharply exhaled. Yeah, here was the fun part. “We need to get the two of them to the Ares 4 MAV.”

“Uh, what?” Mindy interrupted, confused. “I know that I probably shouldn’t be saying anything, but isn’t that, like, three thousand kilometers away?”

“Three thousand two hundred,” Teddy corrected.

“That’s not too bad,” Venkat mused. “They were able to get Johanssen to Pathfinder, and that didn’t even require moving the oxygenator, water reclaimer, or atmospheric regulator. Not to mention, we’ve broached the topic of getting to the Ares 4 site via rover to Watney before, and seemed to be open to the idea, to say the least.”

“We can’t forget the MAV,” Bruce amended. “One way or another, it’s built to send six people to low Mars orbit. Not to send two people on a Martian escape trajectory.”

Rich stepped in. “Now, I don’t know much about Watney, but I’m fairly sure that he’s a pretty good engineer, to say the least. If you need to mess with the MAV, I think Watney could do it.”

“Hold on a moment,” Teddy said. “There’s no way that the Hermes has the food supplies to return to Mars. How will that work out?”

“Rich explained that to me earlier,” Venkat replied. “Instead of launching Iris 2, we’ll use the Taiyang Shen booster to resupply the Hermes. It’d be a near-Earth rendezvous instead of a Mars landing, so it’d certainly be more practical.”

“But at the same time,” Teddy shot back. “If this resupply fails, we kill the rest of the Ares 3 crew along with Johanssen and Watney. And the rest of the Ares program.”

“Not necessarily. If anything goes wrong, we can remotely pilot the Hermes back to Earth.”

“Now, before anyone makes a decision, I just want to bring something up,” Mitch growled. “Does everyone still remember the Pathfinder censorship incident?”

Venkat froze like he had been tased, but he eventually nodded. Teddy nodded along with him.

“I think we’ve already left the crew out of the loop far too many times when it comes to these situations, and we’ve already established that the Pathfinder incident was way too far. We should tell them.”

“Slow down Mitch,” Teddy stated. “We haven’t even decided whether or not we’ll conduct Iris 2 or the Rich Purnell maneuver. Let’s at least decide before telling them about it.”

“Wait...” Venkat asked. “Are you suggesting that we should tell them about the Rich Purnell Maneuver even if we opt to use Iris 2? Couldn't that be an issue later on?”

“They’re not going to mutiny, Venkat,” Teddy said. “And even if they tried to, you said it yourself that we have remote control of the Hermes. If they try anything, we could easily override them.”

Mitch scoffed. “Even if we do choose Iris 2, I can see them pulling a mutiny just to save their crewmates.”

“That’s not exactly possible. Not without their sysop on board.”

Everyone went silent at that remark, and Rich took the opportunity to pinch himself. If there was something he didn’t expect to do at NASA, it was certainly coming up with a plan that managed to intrigue all of the higher ups at once. Listening to the conversation was bizarre, to say the least. Was this what watching soap operas was like?

“Alright,” Teddy stated. “One way or another, I’m the highest ranking official here. I’ll make the decision by tomorrow. Mitch, Annie, Venkat, Bruce? Let’s all meet in here at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

“Got it,” Bruce replied.

“Eh, sure,” Annie said.

“Understood,” Venkat nodded.

Mindy, Rich, and Mitch remained silent.

“Mitch?” Teddy asked. “I can understand Mindy and Rich not responding, but why you?”

“Can we talk for a moment in your office?” Mitch asked. “I just want to bring up a few things.”

“Alright," he replied. "Just make it quick.”

Rich unceremoniously got out of his seat, and stretched both of his arms while at least being conscious enough to not let out a groan. He had told people about his plan, and now whatever Venkat and company did was entirely out of his control. He did his duty, so now was probably the time to go check his emails. He did forget to check them earlier that morning.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mitch firmly sat in the secondary chair in Teddy’s office with a huff while the other man settled into his office chair a little bit more gently.

“So, I imagine that this is about the Rich Purnell Maneuver?” Teddy asked.

“You bet your ass it is.”

“Language,” Teddy replied with a sharp glare.

Mitch snorted. “Bullshit. There are lives on the line. We have more important things to be worried about than fucking language.”

“Well then, I’ll start. I know that you want to tell them and fully support the Rich Purnell Maneuver. But Iris 2-”

“Is basically a fucking joke,” he finished with a curled fist. “Extending the food supply that they already have on Mars just isn’t happening, so launching Iris 2 means we pick one person to live and one person to die. And we have a clear alternative.”

In Mitch’s eye, Teddy saw a deep simmering frustration that highlighted that he thought that this was the best option. That this was the only option, even if four more people died in the process. Funny, how in all of the effort to save two people, he’d be willing to risk more.

“Mitch,” he said with a firm tone. “One part of this plan that I am very concerned about is how you keep glossing over the rest of the Ares 3 crew, as if the Rich Purnell Maneuver won’t get them killed too.”

“It won’t. C’mon, you know it,” Mitch asserted. “At the very least, this is more likely to work than Iris 2.”

“Everyone was confident that Iris 1 was going to work, and look at where that landed us. Are you really suggesting that after what happened, NASA should try to risk even more lives?”

Mitch looked down, temporarily resting his forehead on his thumb and index fingers.

“Look,” he replied, looking up again. “I’m trying to figure out where you’re coming at this from, but I don’t really get you. This Hermes resupply is going to be easier than Iris 2, guaranteed. Hell, we’re even sending it to a crew that can remotely pilot in the resupply! And keep in mind, anything else is essentially saying that we’re going to let one of them die. We can do this!”

Teddy held back a sigh. He couldn’t help but wince at how much Mitch was begging for him to choose the Rich Purnell Maneuver.

“How can you act like this?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments, and it took that long for Teddy to realize that the question came from him.

“Uh, what?” Mitch asked. “What are you even talking about?”

Teddy actually let out a sigh. “This. Your… recklessness. This isn’t a game, the decision we make will have billions of dollars poured into it and could actually get people killed. Do you understand that?”

“Do I understand that!?” Mitch exasperated. “Of course I understand that!”

“Then understand that this is the riskiest option and that is why I am reluctant at best to let this plan go through.”

“So we’re just going to let one of them die!?”

“I never said that.”

“Bullshit,” Mitch spat. “Are you ignoring that part of YOUR plan!? That if we choose Iris 2, we’re sending one of them to their graves. Because I’m actually pretty fucking concerned about that idea, while you seem to be just fine and dandy dancing around it.”

Teddy remained silent.

“So?”

“Do you really think that the entirety of the Rich Purnell Maneuver is plausible?” he shot back. “The more I think about it, the more I’m concerned about it. Even looking past the fact that we’re almost tripling the length of the Ares 3 mission, we have to get Johanssen and Watney all the way to Schiaparelli crater, and that’s not even accounting for the MAV modifications. Who in all of NASA would actually think that this plan is possible?”

“Watney. And Johanssen.”

Teddy arched an eyebrow.

“Do they really?”

“I know they would,” Mitch said, raising an arm. “Because they’re Johanssen and Watney. Two people who routinely outperform our expectations, and have outperformed our expectations already just by surviving by themselves. On Mars.”

Teddy remained silent in thought, but Mitch continued.

“This isn’t the time for damage control,” Mitch continued. “That’s been on your mind, hasn’t it? The two of them have been fighting with everything that they’ve got to survive, and you’re just willing to roll over and let them die! What if this is risky, everything they’ve been doing has been risky! Are we really going to get cold feet now, or are we actually going to pull our shit together and help them?”

Teddy gaped at Mitch with his mind blank.

Mitch let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Be that way. Not like I was going to change your-”

“Mitch. Let’s inform the Ares 3 crew about the Rich Purnell Maneuver.”

“What?”

“Draft a message for the crew. We'll send it in two hours, and ask for a response within six. One way or another, we should at least let them know about this.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Alright,” Commander Lewis began. “Everyone, keep an open mind.”

Beck was already holding his breath. Impromptu meetings were certainly not up the commander’s alley, and impromptu meetings that began with the fact that NASA had sent her an important message certainly highlighted that this was hellishly urgent.

“Course,” Martinez said with a nod.

“ Ja, ” Vogel agreed.

“Uh,” Beck stammered, “sure.”

“I know that this is sudden, and definitely insane, but hear me out. NASA has a plan to send us back to Mars.”

Beck immediately felt goosebumps crawl up his neck

His mind went blank. Just momentarily though. Once it started working again, he blurted out his immediate first thought.

“EXCUSE ME!?”

“You heard me right,” the Commander continued. “We could conceivably return to Mars to rescue Johanssen and Watney. In short, this theoretical plan would have us rescue Johanssen and Watney before even the Iris 1 landing date, within the range of their current food supply, and would see the two of them returned to Earth with us.”

She carefully shifted her weight onto her other leg, but Beck paid no further attention to the Commander. He knew he should have, but he didn’t.

This changed everything, to say the least.

Immediately, his first response was to accept the idea. To follow the plan, as if doubling back would somehow atone for the fact that he proclaimed both of them as dead, and subsequently got them both stranded on Mars. But no, the sensible side of his mind stopped his thought process right there. It would have been nice to save them, but was it the best idea?

His medical intuition couldn’t help but say yes.

That wasn’t even taking into account the fact that this was about Johanssen. That was just looking at their food supply, and acknowledging that the extra six weeks Iris 2 needed weren’t going to happen.

But still, at the very least, the plan would involve spending a few hundred extra days in space, and God knew how ridiculous the rest of the plan was.

Silently cursing at himself, Beck opened his mouth to ask the Commander to repeat herself. Yeah, maybe he should have been listening. But he’d do it, because this was worth it. For Johanssen and Watney.

He was sure of it.

Just like he was sure of it before.

… 

Doc, are you sure?

Of course I’m sure!

But, I dunno, what if we mess up? What if we’re not there to protect her?

You can’t protect her forever, accept that. She’s eventually going to grow up, and you’ll have to let her go then.

Well… you are correct, but I can’t help but worry about her. What if she needs our help when we can’t be there for her?

Will, if she’s anything like you and Crystal, then I’m a hundred percent sure that she’ll be fine.

…

But still. I can’t help but worry. Even with your assurance, dear Doctor.

Doc, I can’t either.

Trust me, even if she still isn’t here yet, I know she’ll be fine!

…

In that case Doc, could you make a promise?

Uh… sure. What’s it about?

Just… promise me. Promise both of us that you’ll be there to help her. Just in case we can’t. I think I’d sleep a little better at night if you did.

I… actually would appreciate you accepting this promise Doctor.

Okay.

No, not just ‘okay’. Be serious Doc. For real. I’m worried about her, and I really, really want to know that she’ll be fine. Please, promise from the bottom of your heart. Can you promise that you’ll protect our little sister?

…

Please?

…

I promise.

…

He knew what he had to do.

“Alright,” Lewis finished, turning towards Beck. “Now Beck, I saw you space out and I’m more than willing to repeat myself, but I get the feeling that you’ve already made your decision.”

“Yeah,” he replied, curtly nodding towards the commander before turning to the rest of the crew. “Martinez, Vogel, I know this is a lot to ask for, but please-”

“Gonna stop you right there Beck,” Martinez finished. “Commander, sign me up.”

“Hold it right there, Martinez,” she said. “All of you, please consider what this plan entails. If we mess up the new trajectory, we die. If the resupply fails, we die. Even if everything works perfectly, we add an extra five hundred and thirty-three days to the mission, and if anything mission critical fails during that time, we die.”

Vogel let out a sigh. “I have already considered those possibilities, and I still support the plan. We are capable astronauts, and I refuse to turn my back on our fellow crewmates.”

The commander turned towards him. “Beck? I know you have a lot of personal stakes in this plan, but we could appreciate your medical advice here.”

He quickly cleared his throat before replying. “Speaking from a purely medical point of view, this maneuver outclasses Iris 2 completely. To be completely honest, six weeks late isn’t going to save them, no matter what. The food supply is already pretty desperate. So essentially, we’re choosing in between a plan that won’t work and a plan that might work. Seems like a no brainer.”

“Any other comments?”

Beck bit his tongue, pausing for a moment to respond before stating his plea, which came out as more of a whimper than anything.

“Please.”

Lewis shifted her face back into neutrality, and quickly turned to look at both Martinez and Vogel. She bit her lip for a second before clearing her throat to respond.

“Okay. We’re four for four on the maneuver. I’ll tell NASA that we’re willing to follow the plan, but let me know if any of you change your minds. Mitch implies that we have at least some sway on NASA’s decision, so don’t be afraid to rethink your decision.”

Three curt nods highlighted the fact that all of the astronauts on the Hermes were firmly committed to the plan.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mitch clambored back into his meeting chair from the previous day while biting back a groan. The Rich Purnell Maneuver was NASA’s only shot at saving both Watney and Johanssen, and yet he still had a feeling that Teddy wasn’t exactly going to be cooperative. Next to him, Annie, Venkat, and Bruce got into their chairs in a more collected manner, while Teddy stood in front of them.

“Now everyone,” Teddy began. “I’ve officially made my decision.”

Momentarily, Mitch entertained the thought of mutiny. Sure, a mutiny on a spaceship sounded like it was straight out of a crappy sci-fi novel, but it could have worked. At the very least, it would’ve put the decision directly into the hands of the crew. Where it should have been.

“We’ll be going with the Rich Purnell Maneuver.”

First, Mitch thought a little bit more about the logistics of a mutiny on the Hermes. Then, he fully comprehended Teddy’s words, and realized just how moot his thought experiment became.

Venkat stared at Teddy in disbelief.

“Teddy,” Venkat began. “Did you just say that we’re going with the Rich Purnell Maneuver?”

“Indeed, I did.”

Venkat got out of his seat with bewilderment firmly etched onto his face.

“Like. The Rich Purnell Maneuver. The plan in which we send the Hermes back to Mars. And send Johanssen and Watney over to the Ares 4 MAV. Which is thousands of kilometers away from the Ares 3 site. That Rich Purnell Maneuver.”

Teddy gently clenched his teeth together. “Please. Venkat, don’t act like a child. I said what I meant, and I do believe that we should follow the Rich Purnell Maneuver.”

“Dare I ask why?”

Teddy winced just a little. “I will admit that Mitch talked with me for a minute, and he did point out that Iris 2 has a negligible chance of success. Attempting Iris 2 would have been a waste of time and money.”

“That’s not even taking into account just how rushed the Iris 2 probe would have been,” Bruce added.

“Is the Rich Purnell Maneuver better with respect to that?” Venkat asked.

“Certainly,” Bruce answered. “Not only do we not need to have the probe survive for hundreds of days or land on Mars, but the launch date is later. The orbital mechanics work out like that, you should know.”

Venkat tilted his head ever so slightly. “And, just wondering Teddy, are you really fine with Johanssen and Watney getting to and retrofitting the Ares 4 MAV?”

“Initially, I wasn’t, but Mitch rightfully pointed out that both of them have exceeded expectations time and time again. His belief seems to be well placed, especially given what the two of them have done with respect to Pathfinder, so I can’t help but support him.”

Mitch was not embarrassed about gaping with an ever so slightly open mouth. The fact that Teddy had listened to him was a fucking miracle.

“Well, great,” Bruce said as he got out of his chair. “I was worried you’d opt for Iris 2, so this is a welcome surprise. I’ll let the construction crew know that they’ve got some more time to work with.”

Annie quietly grabbed her briefcase before standing up as well, and Teddy turned towards her.

“Now, Annie, I know we’ve sort of been leaving you out of this, but we’d appreciate you being cooperative. I doubt that the Rich Purnell Maneuver will be something that the media will let die down easily, so good luck.”

“To be honest,” she bluntly replied. “I was looking forward to it.”

“What?”

“Most of what you guys have been talking about has been going over my head, but I at least understand that Iris 2 wouldn’t have worked in a million years. If you opted for that, I would’ve kicked your ass myself. You guys handle the probe, and I’ll handle the press. Save Watney and Johanssen. Don’t fucking back down now.”

As Mitch got up as well, he noticed the faint signs of a smirk on Teddy’s face.

“Got it.”

Chapter Text

SOL 161

Johanssen was taken aback by a very sudden thud that came from near the intercom system. Turning her head towards the station, she wasn’t surprised to see that the noise came from Watney. However, she did arch an eye towards him.

“Um, Watney?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

He managed to press his feet back against the Hab floor, but couldn’t quite manage not fidgeting. Johanssen took another cautious step towards him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered while staring aimlessly at the space in front of him.

“You know, that doesn’t really explain much,” she deadpanned, still walking towards him.

Watney shrugged with one arm, keeping his other arm near the computer. 

“Actually, I think that’s about as well as you can explain it in just two words. Feel free to one up me if you can.”

With a quick eye roll, she finally managed to get behind Watney and began reading the message.

JPL: Before we get to the news, we would like to emphasize that this is highly urgent and that both of you should pay attention to the next message. We are still finalizing all of the details, but understand that your rescue plans have been completely overhauled.

JPL: After acknowledging that Iris 2 will not be able to get to Mars before Sol 553, we are now going with our secondary plan, the ‘Rich Purnell Maneuver’. Instead of launching Iris 2, we will instead resupply the Hermes as it performs a gravity assist off of Earth to a Mars flyby on Sol 549. The rest of the Ares 3 crew have agreed to this plan, despite this mission extension being somewhat risky. However, this plan is not without danger to the two of you as well. In order to intercept the Hermes, both of you will have to get to and modify the Ares 4 MAV and in order to intercept the Hermes. This is naturally a highly risky maneuver, but after considering what you two have done already, we remain relatively confident in your combined ability to survive. Stand by for further instructions.

Johanssen, gaping at the screen in front of her, quickly read the messages again just to be safe. In the middle of her second time reading through the text, Watney gave her a gentle nudge in the shoulder.

She turned to face him, and saw Watney smirking at her for the first time since Iris 1.

“And three, two, one...”

“Holy shit,” she stated.

Watney snorted, shaking his head as well. 

“Hey Johanssen, don’t you think that response is just a little unhelpful?”

“Oh, I get it you dorky engineer,” she retorted, rolling her eyes again. “But seriously, they are coming back for us, right? As in, the Hermes is flying back to Mars to rescue us?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Watney said with a nod. “I honestly don’t even have a witty reply for this. It's just that fucking insane.”

Johanssen gave him a wry grin. 

“Really? I’m sorry about what happened after Iris 1, or whatever we're calling it now, so you don’t have to hide anything.”

“Yeah, no,” Watney replied. “I’m actually not hiding anything. Seriously. Can you blame me for being speechless for once?”

She stared intently at Watney before turning away, accepting his reply as true.

“ Bloody hell Mark, ” she quietly muttered, just a little frustrated with how his wit worked.

“C’mon Sunshine,” he retorted, extending an arm. “If you’re gonna use your accent, can you at least speak up? I still think it’s fucking adorable.”

Johanssen let out a short sigh before clearing her throat.

“By the way, did NASA talk with you about this? Just wondering.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Watney looked at her like she had grown a second head. “You know I’d have told you if I heard anything about this shit, right?”

“Of course I know,” Johanssen assured him. “But did NASA ask you any engineering questions related to this? I know they’ve talked with you about rover modifications a bit.”

“You’re right, but that was probably due to the Ares 4 MDV plans going to shit. When NASA brought their ideas up, it definitely sounded a lot more like ‘we’ll have you meet up with Ares 4’ rather than ‘you’ll hijack the Ares 4 MAV’. Fuck me, hijack the MAV.”

Johanssen extended a hand towards Watney and gave him a cautious smile.

“Well, we’ve got an Ares mission’s worth of supplies here and the best engineer on the planet.”

“Don’t forget the smartest sysop on the planet either.”

“Heh. Of course I didn’t. I guess we’ll be heading off to Schiaparelli, huh?”

“Fuck, and a few hundred sols ahead of schedule too.” Watney gazed away in the approximate direction of Rover 1. “Yeah, I’ve talked with NASA about what we’ll need to do a bit, but it sounds like they have a few extra things that they want to get to us. Want to chill for a bit?”

“Maybe,” Johanssen suggested. There wasn’t much she knew about what the rover modifications would require, but she had a few ideas that she wanted to flesh out.

“I know that look,” Watney said, grabbing her shoulder with a huff. “Let’s at least wait a day for NASA to get back to us. We can build off of what they send, and then you can add your thoughts. Got it Ms. Workaholic?”

“Do we have anything better to do in the meantime?”

“Honestly, I sort of want to chill,” he said, stretching his arms. “Mostly because I sort of think I’m underreacting to this. I mean, look. We’ve got this super cool off-the-wall orbital mechanics fuckery plan now, and honestly, I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I’m sort of waiting for it to sink in.”

She snorted, shaking her head.

“Don’t be. It’s sort of hard to be excited about things when everything’s millions of kilometers away.”

“Well, sure, but we should probably think about this a little more. Scrubs day?”

“... Scrubs day, I suppose.”

The rest of the day had thankfully been relatively mindless, with only her, Watney, and the medical comedy. Ideas ebbed in and out of her mind, but she let them come and go as they pleased, as she wanted to enjoy her time with him. It was weird, she thought, being so close to Watney as just a friend. But at the same time, it felt like the most right thing in the world.

______________________________________________________________________________

Decades ago, the Pathfinder probe screeched through the Martian atmosphere. It was the first of its kind, the first Martian lander in over two decades and the first Martian rover in human history. After surviving reentry and parachuting towards the ground, the probe’s airbags surged to their full capacity, and the whole probe crashed into the Martian terrain. It came to a halt relatively quickly before righting itself and beginning its operations. Its components performed admirably, with the probe managing to perform its whole mission successfully.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 162

Watney woke up that morning rather quickly. Of course he left out the daily coffee offering for Johanssen before pulling together his own breakfast, but he also made sure to look out for NASA’s instructions on the rover modifications. NASA sent their message bright and early in the Martian day while Johanssen, as per usual, needed a few extra hours to wake up. Watney had managed to comb through most of the procedure before she finally woke up and sat next to him.

“Glad to see that you read the email by yourself,” she replied, still bleary eyed. He scoffed, pulling an arm around Johanssen.

“Don’t take this for granted Johanssen,” he shot back. “The only reason I did it today was because we’re starting the rover modifications, and I figured you should at least be rested for the day.”

“You know, I could just be rested every day.”

“Actually, I think we’re nearing the end of days you can actually be ‘well-rested’...” he said, finishing his sentence with a nervous chuckle

Johanssen arched an eye towards him before she flinched in surprise.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered. “Let me guess, we’re running low on coffee?”

“Hit the nail on the head,” he said with a nod. “Believe it or not, that massive box of coffee we started the mission with is almost empty.”

“NASA sent 200 packets with us,” she mused. “I know that no one else really drinks coffee, but did you drink much?”

Watney shook his head. “Nah, I figured we’d run out, especially with you on this planet. I’ve been basically cold turkey since Sol 6.”

“Really? How the fuck do you wake up without coffee?”

“To be honest, it’s easy when your only competition on the planet sleeps for three more hours than you.”

Johanssen narrowly stared at him before sticking out her tongue. Watney smugly flipped the bird back at her.

“Back on point,” Watney resumed. “NASA’s says we need to make a big hole in Rover 2.” Johanssen flinched, quickly pulling her tongue back into her mouth.

“Uh, why?”

“One way or another, we need to fit the oxygenator, atmospheric regulator, and water reclaimer into the rover. In order to do so, we’ll drill a big hole in the rover by drilling a bunch of small holes with one of the personal drills before covering the hole with Hab canvas.”

“Sounds… just a little risky,” Johanssen admitted. “Can we even get an airtight seal with just Hab canvas?”

“Worked for Airlock One,” he quipped.

Johanssen snorted. “Touche. Alright, I’m on board. I’ve also been thinking about some things with respect to the rovers. You want to hear them?”

“Eh, sure.” he said with a shrug.

“Our newest issue is power. We need to power the atmospheric regulator, oxygenator, and water reclaimer while along with the rover systems, and that’s going to be just a little tricky.”

“You have a plan?”

“You’re not going to like it,” she warned. “The atmospheric regulator works by first cooling the CO2, splitting it apart, and then heating it back to a reasonable temperature, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So basically, we just need to heat up some air, right?”

“Right?”

Johanssen cautiously stared at him, her shoulders going tense.

“Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Watney felt just a little bit of deja vu, and he bit his tongue softly in response. Johanssen claimed to have some way of heating up air without using power that was somehow super dangerous.

Oh.

Watney leaned forward and bit his tongue just a little harder, repeating his words from a few dozen sols ago.

“What the fuck Johanssen!?” he asserted with quite a bit of frustrated hand shaking.

“Huh. Deja vu,” she mused. “You got it now?”

“Almost fucking certainly,” he said, following it up with a sigh. “You’re getting the RTG. Aren’t you?”

Johanssen nodded, cracking her knuckles.

“Sorry, but I think we’ll need it. Power is going to be a bitch en route to Schiaparelli, and we’ll need to conserve everything we can. Are you alright with that?”

“As long as we can do the Hab canvas we did back during the Pathfinder trip,” he said. “But we would’ve needed it for the trip anyways as just heat, so I guess this isn’t too bad.”

“Cool. I don’t know how much power this will conserve, but I’ll start researching now..”

“Got it,” Mark replied, taking a step towards the airlock. “You can start with the research in here, and I’ll go get started drilling.”

From behind him, Johanssen snorted.

“Who’s the lucky lady you’ll be drilling?”

He quickly spun around, already grinning. “Dunno, but if you’re willing to snark at me like that, I could always arrange to drill you, you know?”

Her cheeks immediately went a dull shade of crimson. Bingo.

“Oh God,” she muttered. 

“You know what the best part of being on Mars is?” he continued. “We don’t even have to keep quiet, so we could both totally let loose. After all, you know what they say: in space, no one can hear you-”

“Just stop,” she begged him, blushing even more. “God, why the fuck did I say that?”

“Yeah, why did you say that Beth?” he snarked. “Did you really think you could out-dirty joke me?”

“Just go do your rover work,” she replied, burying her face into her hands. “Let me feel sorry for myself over here.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Johanssen carefully inspected Pathfinder, still sitting where it had landed decades ago, before coming to the conclusion that it was fine. However, she was sadly mistaken. Dozens of Martian summers and winters had not been kind to the probe, and as a result its metal exterior was in fact quite fragile. She carefully looked for a place to grab the probe before settling on a bar near the bottom of the probe. The particular bar she had chosen held firm throughout the chaotic process of hoisting Pathfinder onto the roof of Rover 1 as despite the decades of wear and tear, it was still reasonably strong.

However, the other bars, which had taken quite a bit more of a beating over the years, were not quite as resilient.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 162

“Shit.”

Watney would have stopped on that note, but he wasn’t the one who even said the word. That swear was in fact from Johanssen, who had been silently working in the Hab on computing the power requirements for their rover trip while also blushing like a tomato. In the meantime, he had been drilling holes into Rover 2.

Once he heard Johanssen’s swear, he stopped. He carefully leaned the drill against Rover 1 before crafting his reply.

“Johanssen?” he asked. “What’s going on over there?”

“Did you hear that last part?” she asked. “Yeah, I sort of realized something that might be a bit of an issue.”

Mark blinked, also clearing out his throat with a quick cough. 

“First, just in case this was the issue, I’ve stored the emergency seed crop in Rover 2 in a sealed container. I’ll take it in once I’m done for the day.”

“Oh. That’s cool, but I've thought of something that could be REALLY bad,” she replied. Watney could picture her fidgeting inside of the Hab just from the tone of her voice.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. How are you powering the drill?”

“With the rover power cables?” he replied, confused. “Yeah, they’re basically the only thing that we’ve got that can send enough power to the drill.”

“Well Mark, I’ve been listening in on your work, and I think you said something about removing the drill cowling?”

“I did,” he replied. “It’s sort of risky, but otherwise we’d need twenty sols in order to finish the drilling.”

“Alright. But are you sure it’s safe?”

"Yeah, don't worry about me! After all, the EVA suits are pretty fucking hefty."

“It’s not you I’m really worried about,” Johanssen admitted.

Momentarily confused, Mark looked around at his surroundings, trying to see if there was anything valuable. But the only things that seemed remotely obvious were the ground, the thick rover walls, and the nylon balloons… 

The nylon balloons which happened to be electrically connected to Pathfinder’s electronics in order to ground the whole probe.

Motherfucker.

“Wow. How the fuck did I miss that?” Mark asked, flicking the power switch off. “This place is probably just a little dangerous for Pathfinder. Probably.”

“Scratch that probably and make that definitely,” she amended. “Can you work somewhere else?”

“Not really,” he replied. “The drill’s connected to the rover charging cable, and that’s connected to the Hab. Our only choice is to move Pathfinder.”

“Well, it should be fine,” Johanssen said. “I moved it onto the roof of Rover 1, so it should be able to stand up to being moved a few meters.”

“Sounds good,” Watney nodded, stepping towards the probe. “Care to give me a hand?”

“Of course. I’ll be out in fifteen minutes, got it?”

“Got it.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The two astronauts surrounded the Pathfinder probe, ready to move it. The pair inspected the decades old machinery before agreeing that it was stable enough to use. Unfortunately, they were both mistaken.

As Johanssen cradled a corner of the Pathfinder probe within her hands, Watney firmly gripped a horizontal bar that looked sturdy enough. However, Pathfinder was not built for direct human contact, and especially not after decades of disrepair. With every step the duo made away from Rover 2, the horizontal bar faltered just a little more.

Approximately eighty steps into the move, the bar failed.

One of the sides of the bar was simply unable to cope with the weight of the rest of the probe, and the thin pipe simply snapped. Watney, in a desperate attempt to rescue the electronics, quickly moved a hand under the main body of the probe, temporarily saving it.

However, the unstable configuration was not made to last. The other side of the already weakened and now torqued bar was simply unable to take any more stress, and snapped as well. But with the two astronauts already holding a corner of the probe each, they could only watch in horror as the third corner of Pathfinder slammed into the ground.

The sudden impact sent shockwaves through the probe, shockwaves that interplanetary probes were hardly designed to survive, especially an old probe such as Pathfinder. The vibrations were all that was required for the camera pole to shake itself loose from the rest of the machinery. But for now, at least, the antennae on Pathfinder managed to survive the incident without too much damage.

For now, communications were fine.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 162

“FUCK!”

In the small part of his mind that was not panicking about Pathfinder, Mark realized that there was actually quite a bit of a downside to saying ‘fuck’ all of the time. Namely, that whenever something actually fucking bad happens, you don’t really have the words to describe it properly.

But of course, Watney realized that there was a much more urgent problem. Namely, that Pathfinder had just partially slammed into the ground and had broken quite a bit more.

He looked over at Johanssen and imagined that underneath her helmet, she was frozen in shock. But she soon managed to lower her corner of the probe, and he followed her cue.

“... at the very least,” she began. “The antennae don’t appear to have broken. We’ve lost the imager, but that’s fine. As long as the antennae are fine, we’re still good.”

“Yeah, in an ideal world,” Mark replied, staring at the main body of the probe. “Unfortunately, the real world is just a little bit messy. Namely, that something in the electronics system might have broken.”

Johanssen stared down at the broken probe with him, momentarily silent.

“You know, part of me wants to mope, but I think we should probably be a little bit more proactive now," she began with hope. "We can mope later if we need to, but for now, we can still fix this!”

Even if she couldn’t see him, he smiled at her. 

“There’s the spirit!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, save the monologue for later Mark. Can you at least run a few more diagnostics over the probe now? I think it’s already far enough away from the rest of the equipment already.”

He gazed around, and did agree that a solid forty meters of distance was good enough when working with 9 amps of power.

“Of course, and let me guess, you’ll go back inside to test the comms system?”

She snorted. “Yeah. Of course we should check up on the probe after dropping it, but we should also know whether or not it still works.”

If she wasn’t wearing a helmet, he would have tried to ruffle her hair.

“See you then.”

______________________________________________________________________________

JOHANSSEN: JPL, are you still receiving? We apologize for the communications interruption. Watney has been following your rover modification instructions, but we both realized that the Pathfinder probe was dangerously close to the work area. Given that Pathfinder could have been destroyed by 9 amps of power and that the limited range of the rover power cable meant that moving the workspace wasn’t an option, we were forced to move the probe. Unfortunately, while moving it, the probe partially disassembled and crashed into the ground, losing both a structural pipe and the entire imager. There is no visible damage to either antennae, so please respond ASAP so we can confirm whether or not you can hear us.

JPL: We are receiving you! The signal still remains parsable with our equipment, but there does seem to be a minor loss in signal strength from the Pathfinder communications system. Furthermore, we have also lost control of the imager, but if what you say is true, then that’s to be expected. But given that you two don’t have the equipment to repair broken antennae, we will hope that the signal does not degrade further. We also advise you two to not tamper with the Pathfinder probe further. It is understandable that you would have been confident in its durability after carrying it back from Ares Vallis, but please do not tamper with it anymore, unless you confirm it with us.

JOHANSSEN: Understood. If all goes to plan, that won’t be until we move Pathfinder onto the rovers for the Schiaparelli trip.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 162

The rest of the day had been about as uneventful as it could have been. After Watney finished the Pathfinder inspections and the drilling for the day, he went back into the Hab, ate his usual 3/4ths of a ration, and was now resting with Johanssen next to him, watching the credits of a Scrubs episode roll.

“Just wondering, is NASA fussy about what almost happened to Pathfinder?” he softly asked. “I’m sort of expecting them to throw a tantrum.”

“Well, yes, and also no,” she replied, raising and tilting a hand back and forth. “They took it pretty well, but they did tell us not to touch Pathfinder anymore. Obviously.”

“Eh, alright. Did they say anything about the signal?”

“I think it’s fine? They mentioned that it was a bit weaker, but like I said, they don’t want us messing with Pathfinder more than we need to.”

He snorted, turning to lean on his side. “Fair enough. Duct tape can be pretty magical, but it’s not exactly the most precise thing in the solar system. Although, have you come up with any more rover modification ideas? I know you, you wouldn’t have just forgotten about it.”

“Hm, I’ve been sort of distracted, so not really. The annoying thing is that the two of us just need so much oxygen that the oxygenator will burn through all of our power. Even if we stopped every few sols to only produce oxygen, I think that would at least double the travel time.”

Johanssen gazed away, deep in thought with a fist under her chin.

“Yeah, we just burn through too much oxygen. If only there was a way we could, just, not need as much oxygen.”

Watney took her monologue as a cue to begin to think himself. But, in all honesty, that didn’t really sound all that feasible. Oxygen intake was more or less constant unless you happened to be dead, and it didn’t take a biology degree to figure that one out.

Then again, maybe they didn’t need to change their oxygen intake.

In the process of staring into empty space, Mark shifted his gaze towards the oxygen tanks in the Hab, an idea already forming as he held back laughter.

“Jeez, that sure is an issue...” he deadpanned, snark already in his tone.

She snorted, staring at him with an unamused expression.

“Now Watney,” she began. “If I ask nicely, are you going to just explain, or are you just going to lead me on?”

“I just thought of an invention that could be rather useful given the circumstances...” he replied.

She snorted again. "Lead me on it is," she muttered. "Yeah?”

“What if we had, I dunno, some magical device that could store a large amount of oxygen for us to use later? Something that just happens to be rather large and cylindrical, and, if we’re really lucky, is already here in the Hab storing our oxygen?”

Johanssen certainly did not look all that amused.

“You are horrible and amazing and I can’t tell which one is more apparent,” she grumbled.

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘charming’ and ‘hilarious’, huh Beth?”

“In your dreams Mark,” she said with an eye roll. “But from what I remember from the Pathfinder trip, one Hab oxygen tank allows for one person to survive for forty two days. So if we take both, we could actually get through most of the trip without much of an issue.”

“Oh fuck me, this actually works out even better than I was hoping!” he exclaimed. “It’s fine if we arrive at the Ares 4 MAV with almost no oxygen, because once we’re there, we won’t be driving, so we can dedicate all of our power to oxygen. Then in that case-”

“Everything becomes easier,” Johanssen finished. “Holy shit, why didn’t I think of this earlier?”

“To be fair, NASA didn’t think of it either,” Watney pointed out.

“Well, I might as well tell you about my other idea. I think we’ll need it anyways.”

“Sure.”

Johanssen cracked her knuckles before beginning. “So, before any of the oxygen tank stuff, I was thinking about bringing along some more batteries and solar panels, so I was entertaining the thought of making a trailer of sorts.”

“A trailer?” he asked.

“Yeah. We don’t really have all that much storage space, especially with that hole you’re cutting into the roof of Rover 2. I also know that we’ve got some spare tires, so you might be able to throw something together.”

He thought for a moment, and stared away from Johanssen during his thinking process. His first thought was that there was no way he could build a half-decent axle for a trailer, especially one that could make it to Schiaparelli. That wasn’t being critical of his own skills, that was just acknowledging the fact that things with rolling parts had to be built very precisely, or else they were an absolute nightmare. Then, he mused over her arguments, and supposed that she had a point. They ran into solar panel storage issues back during the Pathfinder trip, and that wasn’t even considering the fact that they now had to power the oxygenator and atmospheric regulator or the fact that half of Rover 2’s roof was going to be a tent. And that wasn’t even accounting for where they needed to store Pathfinder.

He buried his face in his hands, letting out a loud groan.

“Are you alright?” Johanssen asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” he said. “No offense, the idea of making a trailer sort of sucks just because we have to take it to fucking Schiaparelli. But on the other hand, it might be our only option, especially because we’ll need even more space to store Pathfinder on the rovers.”

She shook her head. “Well, when you word it like that… it’s probably harder than I’m making it out to be, right?”

He reluctantly sighed. “Well, as much as I love half assing all of my duties with duct tape, this hypothetical trailer really needs to be built right, otherwise it’ll give us headaches all the way there.”

She shrugged, also extending a hand towards him. “Sure, but at the same time, you’ve got a few hundred sols to get it right. Not to mention, I can give you a hand if you need it.”

Watney casually grabbed her hand, pulling it towards his chest.

“Thanks. You know, this is a lot of shit to do. Drill some holes, run the power calculations, build the trailer, the list goes on...”

“At the very least, we’ve got a few hundred sols to finish it all,” Johanssen pointed out, scooching over towards him.

“Of course, but it’s still a lot of fucking work,” he said, following his statement with another sigh.

“Well, at least I’m here with you. Right?”

“Right,” he repeated, pressing his lips gently into Johanssen’s cheek.

Johanssen froze. He did as well. 

He only realized what he did right then and there, and he nearly recoiled back in shock. But no, Watney instead cautiously pulled his lips away, carefully watching as Johanssen quickly started to blush.

“Um,” he stated, suddenly apprehensive and blushing brightly while Johanssen’s face was bright red too. “Too far?”

“Uh… no?” she stated, sounding awfully unsure about her answer. “Yes? I mean, you kissed me before. It’s just, that was a little more...”

“Intimate?”

She jolted back in shock.

“I… not the word I wanted to use, but the first one that did come to mind,” she mumbled. “But the implications of being in a bed together kissing intimately are ones I… sort of want to avoid.”

“Understood,” he replied. “So… I probably shouldn’t do that again, right?”

Johanssen went silent, blushing just a little brighter.

“Beth?” he asked again.

“Just, don’t make it a habit, alright?”

He finally turned to look at her again with his cheeks still flushed with blood. Some little voice in his head wanted to kiss her again, but he made sure to tune said voice away. Even if he was close with Johanssen, he wasn’t about to cross any lines she didn’t want him to.

Watney opened his mouth to make a joke, only for it to die on his lips.

“Sure,” he replied. “Good night Johanssen.”

“Good night.”

Chapter Text

MISSION DAY 345

“Hey, bro! Are you alright?”

“Of course I am,” Beck said, sort of lying. Then again, it was probably the closest he’d been to alright since the Iris crash.

“Uh, I dunno.” His sister Amy looked at him with concern etched on her face. “The last time you looked this tired was when you were in college.”

He was pretty sure she was correct. Attempting to set a good example for Johanssen, especially when she was his roommate, had been one of his utmost personal priorities, so the last time he lost sleep in the night must have been during his college cram sessions.

“You’re probably right,” he suggested. “I can’t say I’ve been having the best of nights.”

“Is it about Beth?” Amy asked. “I know, dumb question, bust just making sure...”

“Of course it is.”

“You know, just saying, you should stop underestimating her,” she said while adjusting her shirt collar. “Back when we were kids, she was ridiculously smart. I mean, look at her now! What’s her role on the mission?”

“She’s the… computer expert and the nuclear reactor technician.”

Amy knowingly raised an eye.

“See? She’s so smart that she’s got two roles on the ship.”

“Everyone’s got two roles on the ship,” Beck clarified. “Hell, I’ve got three.”

Amy huffed.

“Well, still. I know you can be overbearing, especially when it comes to her.”

“This is different,” Beck asserted, raising a hand. “Mars is really dangerous. I mean, we communicate with her through a decades old probe and she’s basically going to have to do things that no human has done in order to survive.”

“For her, isn’t that par for the course? I mean, you remember what happened back in 2006-”

He slammed a fist into his thigh.

“Don’t. Talk. About. 2006.”

Amy flinched back, slamming her back into her chair.

“I… ” Amy began.

Beck felt regret tightening in his chest.

“No, that was my fault,” he weakly interrupted. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Nah, it was my fault for mentioning 2006,” she somewhat cautiously replied. “I know you don’t like it.”

He closed his eyes and unconsciously, the memories lingered in his head. The smell of chemicals cutting through the air and the blinding hospital lights.

Will and Crystal staring in shock at the bundle in the blankets.

His own scream erupting out of his throat.

The lifeless skin of-

No.

Beck pinched himself hard. But just for a second. The memories evaporated as quickly as they arrived.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Fucking 2006.”

“Does anyone else know about what happened in 2006?” Amy inquired. “I know you’ve said some stuff about Beth, but 2006 is a hell of a can of worms.”

“Nope, and I’m not planning on mentioning it.” Beck gripped his own shoulder just for the sake of feeling something in his hands. “For obvious reasons.”

“Of course.” Amy fiddled with her hands in her lap. “By the way, if anything’s on your mind, feel free to say it. I’m willing to listen.”

“Nah, I’m just enjoying talking with you,” he admitted. “I like Johanssen, but you can only talk to a friend in mortal danger for so long before you get emotionally exhausted.”

Amy let out a light hiss of laughter. “I guess so.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Alright Venkat,” Teddy greeted, still backing his suitcase. “How are all of the departments doing?”

“Surprisingly well,” he admitted with a grin. “For once, even Annie has good news.”

“Wonderful,” Teddy said, loading a red folder into his suitcase. “Could you elaborate on the important departments?”

“Well, Johanssen and Watney are both still healthy and nothing out of the ordinary has happened, at least for Mars. Pathfinder still seems to be working well and rover preparations are still reasonable. The only major issue is storage. Namely, that they’re having issues storing enough solar panels and Pathfinder on the rover.”

“At the very least, is the issue getting resolved?”

Teddy looked around the room for his passport, only to find it in Venkat’s arm, extended towards him. Venkat smiled at him knowingly.

“Watney and Johanssen are working on building an impromptu trailer out of spare parts for Pathfinder, and then they’ll be able to store enough. While they are struggling to get it rolling well, they still have a few hundred sols to finalize everything. And before you ask, Johanssen is sorting out the power situation as we speak.”

“Hmm,” Teddy said with a nod, grabbing his passport. “At least time is on our side for rover development. I know there’s more about that, but that can wait for later. How’s the Taiyang Shen?”

“Actually, it’s doing well,” Venkat said gladly. “China actually let us send a few engineers over to inspect everything already, and they’re saying that everything’s clear. Even on our end, the final checks on the resupply are being finalized as we speak.”

“Wonderful.” Teddy clicked his suitcase closed. “With the basics covered, I think we’re ready to head to Beijing. Do you have your suitcase?”

“It’s at the door.”

“Well then,” he began, standing up. “Shall we be on our way?”

“I suppose we shall.”

______________________________________________________________________________

BECK: Johanssen, you have a moment?

JOHANSSEN: Eh, sure Doc. Do you want Watney here, or is this just something between the two of us?

BECK: It’s just something for the two of us. Your siblings want to talk with me, and I’m just wondering if you have anything you want me to tell them.

BECK: Johanssen?

JOHANSSEN: No worries. I’ll send them an email directly if I want to tell them something. Just make sure Crystal isn’t freaking out too much over this.

BECK: Will do.

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 356

“So, Doc,” Crystal began, doing her best to relax while failing just a little. “How’s our sister doing?”

“I know as much as you do,” he explained, propping his body up on the arm of his chair. “I asked her if she wanted me to tell you anything, but she said she’d tell her yourself.”

“ To be honest, that’s sort of relieving. ” William brought his attention towards Beck, or at least towards the camera recording him. “ It’s good to know that she will keep all three of us on the same page. ”

“I suppose,” Crystal meekly agreed. “But then again, it would’ve been nice to hear some more good news.”

“Right now, I suppose we’re just waiting on the resupply.” Beck ran a finger through his hair, splitting a stray clump of hair back into its individual strands. “Hopefully, this one will be better than the last one.”

Crystal’s shoulders went tense. “Did you have to go and mention the Iris mission? You know, the one everyone said wasn’t going to fail and failed anyways? What if this one fails too?”

William turned to her with a reassuring smile.

“ Dear sister, no need to worry. This one will be better. ”

“How do you know for sure?”

“ This time, NASA was able to run some safety inspections. ”

Beck let out a surprised gasp, hunching forwards.

“Oh my God,” he stated. “I guess that’s a blunt way to put it.”

“ Not to mention, this resupply is an order of magnitude safer than Iris. It only needs to survive for a meager few hours before the Doctor will be able to access its contents. ”

“Mmm,” Crystal groaned anxiously. “I mean, what you’re saying sounds good, but I’m still a little worried.”

Beck stared at the twins with a firm determination in his eyes.

“Don’t worry you guys, I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”

“Are you sure Doc?” Crystal asked. “I mean, that was what I was thinking right before Iris blew up...”

“Of course. I’ll live, save Johanssen and Watney, and we’ll all be back on Earth soon.”

“Are you REALLY sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. After all, I did promise that.”

All three of them went silent.

William raised an eye in his direction while Crystal stared at him in shock.

“Fuck me Doc,” the latter mumbled. “You’re still thinking about the promise now? I mean, cool, but I’d understand if you don’t want to take it this far. We made that promise as a ‘what if she gets a cold’ scenario, not a ‘what if she gets stranded on Mars’ scenario. You know?”

William jabbed his twin sister’s arm with his elbow, and she let out a small yelp of pain.

“ What we were trying to say is that the two of us are incredibly thankful for what you’ve done, ” William stated, shifting his accusatory tone into an assuring one. “ You have truly gone above and beyond in your duty, and we both truly appreciate it. ”

“Of course. I’d say it’s nothing but,” Beck nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I think all three of us know that that’s a lie, huh?”

He saw William’s eyes glisten with a gentle air of authority.

“ However, even if some unforeseen circumstance occurs, both of us will understand. ”

The words almost didn’t fit together in his head.

“What?”

“He meant what he said Doc,” Crystal added. “I can’t say I know much about what happens up there, but I understand that space is hard. Whatever happens, we’ll understand it.”

Beck let out a shaky exhale, if only to demonstrate that he was okay. He heard that a lot. That the Commander understood. That Johanssen and Watney understood. That William and Crystal understood. But no matter what, he still felt a knotted string in his chest.

“I… okay?”

The twins shot each other a look of mild concern before looking at him.

“ Doctor, just know that we care about you as well. You are still our friend, and we want to know that you are still happy. Understood? ”

Beck remained silent.

Crystal let out a quiet sigh. “Fly safe,” Crystal whispered before immediately letting out a cough. “I mean, that’s what astronauts say, right?”

Beck did his best to smile back at them, and he wanted to believe that he succeeded. That the hints of concern still on their faces weren’t about him.

“Fly safe,” he said, holding his own smile for just a little longer.

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 360

“Beginning autolock,” Martinez said, quickly moving his cursor to the other side of his screen.

“C’mon,” Beck muttered quietly. “Let this work.”

Needless to say, his nerves had been frayed more or less since the launch of the resupply mission. He held his breath through the launch and the stage separations, and here he was, holding his breath for the fourth time this mission. 

“Seal is tight,” the commander reported.

That just felt wrong. Johanssen would have been the one to sysop the launch. Just thinking about the commander sysoping a launch made his head little.

“Successful docking confirmed,” Martinez announced. Over the speakers, he heard Houst- no, Jiuquan, let out a victory cheer, and he finally let out a sigh of relief.

He heard Martinez deftly flick off sound transmissions to Earth

“Beck, Vogel, we’ll be loading the supplies now. You two can desuit now.”

“Roger.”

“ Ja. ”

As he heard Martinez shuffle away, he slowly pulled off his own suit. By all means, he had twice as much training for desuiting than any other astronaut on the Hermes. So it came as quite a surprise to him that Vogel finished shortly before he did.

“Beck, do you need a hand?”

“No, no,” he assured, pulling off the bottom half of his suit. “I’m just wrapping up now.”

Had he not known better, he would have expected Vogel to snort. But no, Vogel just stared at him with no visible concern.

“I know you’re concerned Vogel,” he stated, hanging up his suit. “I’m fine, seriously!”

“Of course,” he replied. “I know you are strong.”

Beck let his shoulders fall just a little.

“Thank God.” Beck let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. “Everyone’s been walking on eggshells with me, so it’s nice for someone to treat me like a normal person.”

Vogel stared at him in thought.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” he stated. “Everyone’s definitely been a little gentle on me. Hell, I know that NASA sent Martinez some medical instructions, just in case something happens to me.”

“In that case, would you say you have been...” Vogel slowly raised his index fingers for two air quotes. “‘Walking on eggshells’ around yourself?”

Beck flinched.

Well, that was a way to put it, wasn’t it? Then again, it made a sickening sort of sense. He felt it, that sinking feeling in his chest, that general sense of unease that had never quite left since Sol 6. He had talked to Johanssen. He had talked to her siblings. He had talked to everyone, but he hadn’t really thought about what he felt.

“Maybe,” he stated, still unfocused. “Just maybe.”

“Well, Doctor.” His vision abruptly returned to him as Vogel gave him a pat on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you told yourself that you were going to be fine.”

His breath hitched. 

He never really thought of it like that. He supposed it was hardly part of his job, given that he was a doctor. He job was literally to save other people. Something in him wanted to still hold himself down, to keep feeling like garbage.

But then, the looks of concern from William and Crystal firmly etched themselves into his mind.

“Positive feedback loops,” he muttered.

“Beg pardon?” Vogel asked.

Beck blinked, shaking his head before taking a step with Vogel back towards the center of the Hermes.

“I feel like garbage, everyone else feels like garbage. I feel better, everyone else feels better. I wonder if Watney figured this out.”

“Actually, that would make a lot of sense,” Vogel stated.

Beck exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He reopened them with just a little more vigor.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Vogel asked.

“Okay. I think I can do better,” he asserted.

“Are you sure?” Vogel asked. “You do not have to change all at once.”

“Of course I won’t. All I’m saying is that now might be the time to start doing better. I mean, mourning someone for half a year because they’re not dead? Even Watney couldn’t come up with a better joke.”

“Beck, Vogel!” the commander called from down the corridor. “Martinez has the supply doors open. Could you two get down here to help us?”

“With pleasure,” Vogel said, pressing onwards just a little more quickly than Beck.

Beck closed his eyes, taking a moment to focus before reopening them with a grin.

“Hell yes.”

______________________________________________________________________________

A few million kilometers away, a sysop laughs in relief knowing that her best friend is alive. A botanist laughs along with her.

Chapter Text

JPL: Johanssen, Watney, care to share a status report?

JOHANSSEN: Everything’s clear across the board. As per my previous message, the power issue has been sorted and Watney has finally worked out the remaining issues with the trailer. The last issue remaining is that we still have yet to cut out the Hab canvas required for the rest of the rover modifications. Should we continue with that?

JPL: Wait until after the second harvest. While you could hypothetically store all of your soil in airtight containers, it’s too much risk for too little reward, especially since we have ample time between the second harvest and your planned departure date.

JOHANSSEN: I presume this locks us into a departure date of Sol 449?

JPL: Correct, but don’t worry. You two will have 74 sols after the second harvest to finish the canvas modifications, and that’s already being liberal with the amount of time required for the trip and the MAV modifications. Leaving earlier than that may even be a hindrance due to the small amount of living space within the rovers. We acknowledge your preference for an earlier departure date Johanssen, but we believe that this alternative is better for everyone.

JOHANSSEN: Understood.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 314

It wasn’t going to be an issue. She was sure of it.

Johanssen looked into the box of freeze dried potatoes, cradling a potato in her hand. Almost three hundred sols ago, she had been so sure in her math. So sure that if they stuck to the plan, they’d survive. But Johanssen knew that the plan was flawed. As much as she relished the fact that Watney had given her numbers to work with, she also knew that the real world was messy, and that the plants might not be quite as cooperative with their numbers.

Then again, their rationing didn’t have to be that strict either.

She could already hear the Doc yelling into her ear about calorie counts and starvation, but then again, it was quite literally a life or death situation if something went wrong with the second harvest. One less potato wasn’t going to hurt her. Ration reduction was better now than later.

She grabbed a potato with her other hand, momentarily pausing before carefully lowering it once more. Turning to walk towards the dining table, Watney stared at her with a suspiciously arched eye.

“Hmm…” he began, staring at the potato in her hand. “Now Johanssen, unless I forgot how to fucking count, that doesn’t look like two potatoes,” he quipped accusingly, still staring at her hands.

“So what if it isn’t?” she asked, doing her best to let her snark flush the uncertainty out of her face.

“You had two potatoes for breakfast yesterday,” he pointed out. “And the sol before that. And for the past hundred sols at least! There’s no way you, the smartest nerd I know, forgot how much you need to eat.”

Johanssen mentally swore. If only Watney didn’t bother paying attention to many potatoes she ate a day.

“I’m just...” Johanssen realized that not figuring out the end of her sentence while lying was a pretty damn stupid idea. “Not hungry for potatoes?”

Watney snorted, reluctantly putting on a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with an eye roll. “After you’ve eaten them for a solid few hundred sols without any complaints. Fuck me, you’ve been the one telling me that I’ve been too whiny over eating potatoes! What next, you found Martian landlords trying to evict us off of their property?”

She nervously gazed to look behind her, even though she knew very well that there’d be no one sneaking up behind her. Watney’s gaze still remained locked on her.

“Johanssen,” Mark commented, although it sounded an awful lot like a command.

She sighed.

“Fine, you got me,” she said, holding both of her hands up in the air, resigned to her fate. “I’m worried about the next crop.”

“Really?” he inquired, pointing the fork in his hand at her.

“Yeah. Really. I know I ran the calculations on the food supply, but that just means that I know where they’re dodgy, especially due to the fact that we only have four sols of margin before the Hermes gets to Mars.”

Watney pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head.

“Margin? We’re really having concerns over how much margin we have from the woman who volunteered to add an RTG to the rovers!?”

“Yep,” she said, popping the p. “I ran the numbers thinking that we’ll be yielding a perfect crop according to your numbers, but will we really?” 

“We won’t know unless we try,” Watney pointed out, gesturing with an open palm towards her.

“But still. We’re still a point where we can try to conserve a few extra potatoes for later sols if need be. Maybe we should at least try-”

Watney interrupted her with a loud snort.

“Johanssen, are you glad time travel doesn’t exist?”

For a second, Johanssen tried to figure out what Watney was getting at, only to come to the conclusion that there was no way in hell that she could predict his sense of humor. Staring blankly at him, Johanssen took the opportunity to slowly lower the potato she had onto her plate, letting it roll into a stable position on its own while she thought about how to reply.

“Uh… not really?” she finally responded. “I mean, watching Apollo 11 in real time would be pretty cool.”

“Well, you should be, ‘cause if the psych department knew you’d make that statement now of all fucking times, they’d have fucking grounded you!” he bluntly snarked.

While she mused over his claim, Watney continued.

“Johanssen, half of the complaints we get from Earth are due to your fucking diet plan, and I fixed Airlock One with mostly duct tape. You’re already doing plenty on the food supply front, alright?”

Johanssen still stared at him blankly, thinking a little bit more.

Watney drew out a rough sigh from his throat, shaking his head in disapproval. “Okay. Why don’t I cut some potatoes from my meals?”

“I know what you’re going for, but I have valid reasons as to why you shouldn’t,” she defended.

“Do you really?” he asked with a reluctant smile, dragging out the last word.

“You’re the engineer on the mission,” she said with an index finger extended towards him. “You already have to spend a quarter of every sol just running diagnostics on all of the equipment, and hell, you’re going to be planting the second batch of potatoes today! A calorie deficit will hit you WAY harder than it’ll hit me.”

“On the other hand, I’m the one who’s actually getting their recommended calorie intake per day,” he deadpanned. “Unlike a certain sysop I know.”

And there was the mention of recommended calorie intake. Shit. Time for the compromise.

“Okay, I have a solution. Do you still want to agree to mutuality?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, equal parts pleased and confused.

“Well then, I suppose we can both cut a few potatoes out of both of our diets,” she conceded, staring down at her plate. “We individually ration but stop when one of us no longer feels fine. Does that sound good?”

Watney bit his lip in a rather suspicious manner.

"If you're worried about NASA rejecting this plan, I wasn't planning on telling them," she added. "I mean, everything becomes easier if this works out, so I'm fine with this just being between the two of us."

“Um,” he stated before pausing.  “Actually, I wasn’t thinking about that. I just… have a test of sorts.”

“What?” She tilted her head while she stared into his eyes, focusing on their gentle shade of light blue. “What do you mean?”

Watney clasped his hands together as he nervously looked away.

“It’s just a test about whether or not one of us feels ‘fine’. Just… trust me on this, okay?”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Watney?”

“Yes?”

“Why is this the standard you chose for whether or not we’re starving?”

“I mean… why not?” he shrugged, trying to balance his nervousness with his cheer.

Johanssen gently stood in front of him, clasping his hand with her own. They both stood amidst the Hab floor, ready for his signal.

The sysop huffed. “I can’t say that there’s any reason why us dancing is a good measure as to how well fed we are.”

“Well, dancing is a high exertion activity, which makes it a good indicator of how 'fine' we are, and we can also stop it at any time. Not to mention, it’s also one of the few things we can actually do. We don’t exactly have gyms on this planet.”

In the ensuing silence, Watney took the opportunity to add the next thought on his mind.

“Fuck Mars,” he complained under his breath, and he suspected that Johanssen had expected him to do so.

Johanssen bit her lip, and he somewhat desperately hoped that she’d accept his request while not asking any more questions, or, on that note, think about what they were doing for all that long. If Beck knew what was happening, he would have laughed his heart out.

Then again, anyone would have. ‘Hey, I think I’m falling in love with the woman I’ve been hanging out with for the better part of a year, and I’m trying to get her to dance with me so I can figure out how much I love her!’ He almost winced at the thought.

It made sense in his mind. He still didn’t really have an idea as to what his feelings for her were exactly, so maybe doing something like this would help him figure it out. Right?

… 

Yeah. This was a stretch. But then again, another new thing for the two of them to do was always appreciated, what with the amount of unwatched entertainment on Mars slowly dwindling by the sol. At least that excuse was reasonable enough.

He smiled at Johanssen, shoving that train of thought aside for now, and she sheepishly smiled back at him.

“Shall we?” he proposed.

She stared directly into his eyes as a gentle tint of color appeared on her cheeks.

“Hit it.”

He began with the basics, the standard step forwards, backwards, and a whole lot of boring shit that you’d normally find in a ballroom. He was certain that there were a million techniques that he could have looked up if he had access to the internet, but being a few million kilometers away from the rest of the human race didn’t exactly make that easy. But a minute or so into it, he decided to shake things up.

He hoisted both of their hands into the air, and Johanssen took the opportunity to perform a quick ballet spin.

“Pfft,” he wheezed, still holding her hand. “Talk about cliche.”

“Don’t lie, you wanted this,” she playfully accused. “You wouldn’t have lifted your hand like that otherwise!”

Quickly moving a hand around to his back, Johanssen hoisted him forwards, beginning to pick up the pace. She swiftly spirited him across the Hab, spinning him around as she pulled him closer and further away from their combined center of momentum.

Watney didn’t realize that he was actually working up a sweat until well into the routine, after a near miss with one of the bunks.

He gasped for air as Johanssen pulled him towards her once more. “Johanssen,” he wheezed. “I think now might be a good stopping point.”

Drawing her attention towards him, Johanssen smirked.

“Well then, watch this!”

Releasing her grip on his hand, Johanssen sharply kicked backwards before entering a dazzlingly quick spin. Her body became a blur as she quickly stabilized her position within the Hab. Then, as if that wasn’t impressive enough, Johanssen finished the whole display by prominently halting her momentum, posing dramatically while facing him with a seductive wink.

Watney wished that his breathlessness was only from the dancing.

“Like what you see?” she teased.

He gently bit his own tongue. “Hell yeah.”

She flashed a carefree smile before following it with a wonderful, hearty laugh.

“I mean, this was your idea after all! The least I could do was properly get into it.”

He blinked, doing his best to not mentally drift away from the conversation. If the sudden lack of air in his lungs after her pose indicated anything, it suggested that he had a crush on Johanssen.

Fuck.

“Well, thanks,” he stated, doing his best to not fuck up the conversation too badly.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do for my fr...”

Johanssen’s pupils immediately shrunk as she paused mid-sentence. She quickly swerved her line of sight away from him before taking a few careful steps backwards, clearly a little shaken by what she had almost said.

If she wasn’t still in the immediate vicinity, he would have fist pumped the air in excitement.

She was pretty damn clearly avoiding the word ‘friend’. Yeah, maybe that wasn’t much, but she had also been approaching the romantic side of things with just a little bit of appreciation. Blushing a little at his gentle flirting. Holding his hand whenever she got the opportunity.

Never explicitly stating that she didn’t like his kisses.

His instincts said that Johanssen was into him. That if he confessed right then and there, she would have gladly accepted him. The cautious part of his mind that still worried had finally fallen silent, but a certain other idea told him to not to. Namely that if he was going to start something, he should at least try to make it dramatic.

“Johanssen, you coming back?” he asked as she fumbled with the spacesuits.

“No, I… just remembered that I forgot to clean the solar panels last sol!” she stammered, still facing away from him. “I should go do that now...”

He could mentally hear her blurt out ‘Forget that last sentence.’ as well, with a blush that was almost certainly on her face now.

As he watched Johanssen fumble into the airlock, he began to brainstorm confession plans with a bright grin etched onto his face.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 324

“How’s it looking down there?” Johanssen asked.

Johanssen was waiting for Watney to make a cheerful quip, but his continued silence didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He prodded at the potato growing in the soil while making only a few unhelpful grunts.

She quickly adopted an expression of concern as she knelt down next to him.

“Hmm,” he said while examining the potato growing in the ground. He carefully dug around the plant, examining the new bud from multiple angles, before finally pulling his head up.

Johanssen gently bit her own tongue.

“Okay Watney, just give it to me straight. What’s the issue?”

The botanist barked out a dry laugh. “Wow, direct now, aren’t we? To be blunt, the crops just aren’t growing as much as the last ones were.”

Johanssen nervously eyed the plant in front of them. “Is… it a blight issue? I know you’ve been talking with the botany department about that coming up, so...”

“No!” Mark exclaimed, throwing his hands up in front of him suddenly. “I mean, if there was a blight issue, we’d be way more fucked, trust me. As in, we’d be brushing with the entire field dying.”

She let out a nervous exhale through her teeth.

“Well, let’s hope that’s not the case,” she said as she nervously tapped her index fingers together.

“I’m pretty sure that it isn’t,” he claimed. “I checked the soil under a microscope last sol just to see what was happening, and the soil just isn’t what it used to be. We already drained the soil with our first crop, and it just hasn’t had enough time to recover.”

“Is there a way we can fix it?” she asked.

Watney grinned reluctantly at her. “Well, if we were on Earth, the problem would literally have been as simple as going outside and grabbing a handful of dirt. But here, we’re sort of out of options, especially given that we’re already using all of the, uh, ‘fertilizer’, we have.”

She momentarily winced at the mention of the fertilizer. It had been disturbingly easy to forget the smell, but she was still just a little horrified with the fact that she had adjusted to literally living next to a bunch of shit. But she pushed past her urge to gag to respond.

“If you don’t have any extra trump cards, we could always try cutting back the rations a little bit more.”

“I’ve got some extra trump cards, but in all honesty, I’m not sure how well the trump cards of ‘micromanage better’ and ‘figure out a better hab temperature’ will work, so we might have to go with your plan,” he said. “Even if it fucking sucks,” he finished with a mutter.

“If we still do your little dancing test and I agree to reciprocality, will you be fine with it?”

Well, she was pretty damn fine with the former if she did say so herself, but there was no way in hell that she’d say that to his face. Mars was terrifying enough without dumb love arcs.

God, dumb love arcs, she mused. The Doc would have had a field day if her feelings had happened literally anywhere that was remotely survivable. Besides, she was still almost certain that Watney only proposed the dance test due to boredom. It wasn’t like she actually had a chance with him.

“Well then, you’ve got yourself a deal Beth,” he replied, breaking her train of thought.

Johanssen took a moment to blink. Her thought process had been just a little slower recently, probably due to the reduced meals, but it was still bearable. A few less potatoes wouldn’t hurt her. Even if she didn’t really want to cut her own rations further.

She bit her tongue and gave him a curt nod. She’d do it for him.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 330

Mark took an anxious glance at the sysop sitting at the intercom desk, reading the electronic novel on her laptop intently. He’d thought it through, and actually had a half decent plan for how to confess to Johanssen.

Granted, said plan was to just French kiss Johanssen until she yelled at him about what the fuck he was doing, but it was still a plan nonetheless. She wasn’t going to misinterpret it, it was a decent step up from their normal kisses, God, normal kisses, and knowing Johanssen’s disposition, she probably wasn’t going to be too disturbed by it.

“Yo, Sunshine!” he exclaimed.

“Mmm?” she groaned in an inquisitive manner.

“Are you ready for our little dance?”

“Gimme a minute,” she muttered as she got out of her chair. “I’ve been sitting down for a while, so I want a minute to stretch.”

After his own nod of approval, Johanssen made a few quick stretches before the pair maneuvered themselves over to the middle of the Hab, facing each other amidst the growing plants.

“Now, I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again.” Watney clasped both of Johanssen’s hands with his own. “Don’t step on the potatoes, got it?”

Johanssen snorted. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but warnings here are a pretty good idea. After all, this is sort of a matter of life or death and what not.”

She snorted again. “Watney, how the hell do you brush off life or death situations?”

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Astronaut training? Badassery? My mom’s humor? A combination of the three? Who knows.”

As Johanssen dozed off, Watney felt a grin appear on his face.

“Ready Johanssen?”

“Am I wha-whoa!” she exclaimed, as Watney swerved her to the side. She carefully maneuvered her feet around the potato plants directly below her feet, and he did the same. Johanssen had raised concerns over stepping on the potatoes a few sols prior, but both astronauts had figured out the pacing and the caution required to not step on any of the potato plants. 

After a solid few minutes of Johanssen following his movements, short on breath, he slowly spun her towards him. Once the sysop was close enough, he used an arm to tenderly grasp her back.

She looked at him with an expression of confusion, sprinkled in with some exhaustion.

“Watney?” she asked, stopping to wheeze once. “I agree that this seems like a good place to stop, but why are you still holding me?”

“Because Johanssen,” he stated, letting a blush appear on his own face.

Johanssen stared at him, visibly increasing the amount of concern on her face.

“What are you-”

“Surprise.”

Watney thrust his face forwards, slamming his lips into Johanssen’s. Once he heard the sysop’s light groan of surprise, he immediately stuck out his tongue.

Johanssen froze for a few seconds, and the two of them were locked in an emotionally one sided kiss.

Realizing that something was up, Watney immediately pulled his lips away, blinking once before looking at Johanssen. He expected to see embarrassment on her face, along with a blush brighter than the surface of Mars. After all, if she blushed bright red after a normal kiss, a French kiss would have made her glow like a tomato, right?

But Johanssen’s expression was just tired, sporting ever so slightly droopy eyes rather than crimson cheeks.

He arched an eye, concerned. He mentally shelved his romance plan for the time being, now just a little more worried about her health

“Johanssen, are you there?”

“Yeah,” she replied, dazed if anything. “Sorry Watney, our little show drained me a little bit more than I’d like to admit.”

He immediately shook in place, the implications of her exhaustion hitting him like a rogue baseball. Johanssen flinched along with him, staring at him with concern of her own.

“Uh, Watney?” she inquired, the implied ‘Are you okay?’ already visibly on her lips.

“Dare I ask how many potatoes you’ve been eating a day?” he asked, his question coming out more desperately than he had expected it to. “You've been bouncing around between zero and three potatoes per meal so much that I've kind of been losing track, so I'd appreciate your side of the story. For reference, I know that I should be eating ten and that you should be eating a little under seven, and I’ve been at nine and even eight on, like, two sols. I hope that you’re around six, but...”

Johanssen let out a tired sigh.

“Okay, in my defense, I was pulling off six potatoes just fine, but-”

Watney shot the most pointed expression he could muster at her, which was his old ‘How fucking high are you on weed right now?’ expression from college. Johanssen momentarily winced in response.

“Five,” she finished. “Five potatoes, maybe four, and I’ve been messing around with three.”

“Wait, three!?” he exclaimed, almost in shock. “You’ve been messing around with less than half of your already ridiculously reduced ration!”

Johanssen winced in front of him, clearly disliking his aggressive tone.

“Look, I swear I was-”

“Probably starving? Doing a really shitty job at taking care of yourself?” His comments came off of his tongue with a pointed aggression.

Johanssen gazed away, suspiciously silent. Watney opted to use the opportunity to take a well deserved breath, letting the silence linger for a few moments longer.

“... Sorry,” he confessed.  “That came out a little bit more harshly than I intended it to.” She slowly brought her eyes back towards him.

“I… get it, don’t worry. I yelled at you for joking about one of us dying, and here I am, almost doing it.” Johanssen let out a tired wheeze. “But I’m fine, really. We have the dance standard and I beat it, so I’m still good.”

Watney cautiously narrowed his glare at her. Part of him wanted to confess right then and there, hoping that it’d get her to care about herself, but his common sense shut that plan down more or less immediately.

“You know I need you here, right?” he softly asked. Johanssen lowered his shoulders at that remark.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, just… let me hammer it in as to how much I like you.” Watney tenderly rubbed the back of his neck, carefully lowering his own tone. “I know that I’ve said it before, but I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone, except maybe my parents. And, um. They’re my fucking parents. Friends aren’t supposed to be that close.”

Johanssen’s cheeks glowed a shade brighter.

“But seriously, take care of yourself, alright?” Watney amended. “I need you here.”

“I need you here too,” she reiterated, staring at him with a gentle appreciation in her eyes. “I mean, I know I never said it, but I think I’d be a wreck if you weren’t here with me. Believe or not, your jokes do mean a lot to me.”

Watney couldn’t help but smile brightly at her.

“Pfft,” he wheezed. “I knew you did. All of you do!”

“I can’t even deny that,” she stated, words gently rolling off of her tongue.

Watney gave her a gentle pat on the head, feeling a familiar warmth building up in his chest.

“I’ll take care of myself,” she assured him. “I’ve been doing it for the past thirty years, and I can keep it up now. I know what I can do.”

“You better,” he replied, the remnants of his concern fading away.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 334

“Hey, Beth?”

“Yeah?”

That was dumb. This was dumb. This entire part of his idea was absolutely dumb. Both of them were lying next to each other in their bed, facing each other directly. For some reason, some not very bright part of his mind wanted to ask Johanssen what she thought about romance, just to gauge his own chances. While also hoping that she didn’t pick up on what he was trying to do.

For once, he was literally relying on Johanssen not figuring something out. Some part of his mind just wanted to abort the idea, but the rest of his mind pressed on.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the look of concern on Johanssen’s face. “Johanssen, you’ve been in past relationships, right?”

“Yeah,” she brushed off. “What about it?”

“Eh… just wondering, how close were you to those people?”

Johanssen drew out a long, steady exhale. “I was pretty close, I suppose. I knew some of them for a few months or so, and a few of them were also friends of mine for a few years.”

Mark bit his own lip a little at that last part.

“How close were you to them, er… relative to me?” Watney bit back a snarl after making the question so obvious.

She quietly snorted, bringing up a hand to twirl a lock in her hair. “No contest. You’re closer.”

“On the kissing front?”

“Believe it or not, the best kisses I’ve gotten were from you,” she admitted.

Watney blinked, almost tempted to bring a hand to his face.

“Pfft,” Watney exhaled, just a little too tired to laugh. “Not gonna lie, that’s probably the case for me as well.”

“Honestly, that’s amazing.” Johanssen gazed up at the roof of the Hab. “We both go through multiple girlfriends and boyfriends each, and we both get our best kisses from the random nerd we meet at NASA.”

“Well, that’s right from my view, but I think you’ve got your perspective a little bit twisted,” he smugly replied. “Instead of ‘nerd’, I think you mean ‘the best botanist in the solar system’.”

“The fact that you care about botany says everything about how nerdy you are,” she quipped.

“Well, fuck you too super nerd Beth Johanssen.” He mustered his energy for one gentle chuckle before dozing off again.

Well, if there was a signal to go for her, that was it. After she had just confessed that he was closer to her than anyone she had ever dated. A hell of a signal, if he did say so himself. It was a miracle that she didn’t figure it out.

She didn’t figure it out.

Johanssen was just a little socially inept, but she was far from a moron. How the fuck did she not catch on to what he was asking after he literally kissed her on the lips and asked her about whether or not he was closer to her than any of her exes?

His mind more or less immediately went to the fact that she was on two thirds of her already ridiculously lowered rations.

God, that was a hell of a silver lining.

Watching as Johanssen settled into the mattress next to him, he began to brainstorm his plan of attack next sol. He could confess, easily. She liked him, that was obvious. But then again, the issue of her literally starving herself down to the bone wasn’t exactly ignorable. Even if she thought she was fine, he had no difficulty whatsoever imagining Johanssen pushing her body just a little bit too far.

The plan finally settled in his mind as first dancing, then confessing, and then goading her into eating more. If she was taking care of herself for him as a friend, she’d probably take care of herself more if she knew he loved her, right?

Anyways, she’d survive one more sol.

As Johanssen gently dozed off next to him, he felt his own cheeks begin to redden as he drifted to sleep too.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 335

“Are you ready?” Watney asked, his smile already on his lips. Johanssen instinctively bit back a groan. A part of her mind swore that Watney was acting a little odd. In fact, he had sort of been acting strangely last night as well, but that conversation was sort of a blur in her mind. 

She could already hear Watney’s desperate cry of objection if he ever heard about the blurriness. Or the extra lethargy. Or the fact that her stomach sort of ached. Okay, there were a lot of inconveniences she was experiencing that he would have objected to. But in her heart, Johanssen knew that she was fine. She was fine with driving herself down to the bone. Back in college, working on late night projects, during the initial mission selection trials, she knew that she was a hell of a lot tougher than anyone gave her credit for.

“Um, Johanssen?” She was quickly snapped out of her thoughts, now focusing on Watney, staring at her with a rather significant amount of concern.

“Sorry Mark,” she apologized, stretching her arms slowly. “Got sidetracked in a few old memories.”

“Well, you remember what we both said about this whole shtick, right?” Watney cautiously reached an arm out towards her. “We try to pull off a reasonable pace, and if you can’t do it, we’ll stop and you’ll amp up your rations.”

“Not gonna happen,” she spoke. “I can do it.”

Watney looked at her with a level of concern that reminded her of the Doc. She was ever so slightly taken aback at his expression, pausing to stare back at him with some concern of her own. She anxiously tugged at her shirt collar, the Hab feeling just a little hotter than usual.

“You know, really, I care about you,” Watney began. “But... ugh, have I been saying that too much? I know that those words sort of lose their meaning if you repeat them too much, but really...”

Johanssen gently lifted a hand towards Watney’s chest. Mark looked at her hand, and then brought his face up towards hers.

“I’m fine,” she said with a smile, and for a moment she actually believed herself too.

No, she was fine. There was nothing to not believe. She had to do this to live. They had to do this to live. She was utterly, absolutely fine.

Watney stared at her with a gentle concern that she reciprocated.

“If you say so,” Watney replied, cautiously gazing away. “Let’s begin.”

Starting with what had become more or less standard, Watney carefully brought her forwards, backwards, and to the side. She kept the pace, biting her tongue to avoid breathing too heavily during the early parts of their routine. She distantly noticed that it sort of felt as though the Hab was getting warmer.

She assured herself that she was fine, even as Watney picked up the pace.

Pulling her back and forth, Johanssen tried to lean with his motion, doing her best to let gravity pull her along, even as the Hab’s temperature seemed to be approaching sweltering.

“Are you ready for a big one?” Watney asked, a smile on his lips.

“‘Course,” she replied, blurting out the word before she had even realized it.

Watney hoisted her towards his body before thrusting her outwards. It was a maneuver he had done many times, and one she normally enjoyed, but the extra speed combined with her exhaustion threw her off.

Distantly, amidst her now blurring senses, she felt her own fingers slip away from Watney’s hand. She watched in what felt like slow motion as the Hab ceiling seemed to fall away from her as she plummeted downwards.

Towards the ground.

Mark looked down at her in shock, with the most horrified expression she’d seen since Sol 7. She finally understood what was happening.

God, no.

Time almost seemed to slow down as Johanssen tried to desperately right herself, and by all means she should have been able to do so. But her arms and legs just wouldn’t cooperate, freezing up every time she tried to get them to move.

Finally too exhausted to go any further.

Johanssen felt her lower body slam into the ground, mortified. She promised that she’d take care of herself. For herself. For Watney. But she didn’t. As her head still plummeted towards the Hab floor, she let loose one last desperate cry.

“Mark, I’m so-”

The last thing Johanssen felt was her head slamming into the soil as her vision went black.

Chapter Text

“Mark, I’m so-”

Johanssen’s head slammed into the ground with a sharp thud. The Hab went silent.

Watney froze for a second, gaping downwards at Johanssen. The whole scene had unfolded so fast that he’d barely had time to even be shocked.

He blinked, still not quite sure what had just happened.

Johanssen was sprawled out on her back with her limbs haphazardly scattered on the ground next to her. Her eyelids and mouth were closed, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he had seen her crash into the ground, he could have just assumed that she was just sleeping in the middle of the Hab. But no, she had just crashed into the floor.

On a scale of one to ten, Watney guessed that the scene was at least a nine and possibly an eleven in terms of severity. 

“Johanssen?”

He shakily said her name, hoping for just a response. Yeah, it’d suck if she felt like shit, but it’d be even worse if Johanssen was completely unconscious. Unfortunately, the continuing silence made the second option seem all too reasonable.

He cautiously snapped a finger, waiting to see if she’d respond. She didn’t.

“Johanssen?” he repeated, louder. She didn’t so much as twitch.

The anxiety growing within his chest finally gave way to him bending downwards, carefully avoiding all of the potato plants in order to kneel next to Johanssen. He hoisted an arm around her, pulling her tightly into his chest.

“Come on Beth, I’m here,” he assured, hoping that she’d wake up. “Please, wake up.”

That bout of silence in particular made him want to scream.

He mindlessly pressed an ear to her chest. She was fine just a moment ago, so he knew that she was still fine. She had to be fine. There was no way in hell that she was…

Was…

She just wasn’t.

His mind went silent as he carefully shifted his ear around on her chest, before finally being rewarded with a gentle throbbing. Then, almost on cue, Johanssen let out a shallow breath, still limp. Watney lowered his shoulders just a little.

She was still alive, he thought and made sure to repeat in his head. She was still alive. Clearly starving, and almost certainly exhausted, but still alive. Watney carefully straightened his own legs, cradling Johanssen in his arms.

It should have been harder to lift her. While they were in 0.4 g, that hadn’t exactly done wonders to his muscles. But then again, since she was pretty much starving, she was almost certainly a few pounds lighter than normal. He carefully maneuvered through the potato field, balancing Johanssen within his arms, and gently lowered her down onto their shared bunk.

Stepping back, he noticed that some dirt had clung to Johanssen’s clothes and said dirt was now staining their bunk. He brushed off the problem, shoving it off for when he wasn’t worrying about Johanssen’s personal health, and instead opted to carefully brush a few stray hair strands out of Johanssen’s eyesight.

Once done, he let out a sigh of pseudo-relief. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least she was a little safer.

He delicately studied her own face, waiting for any signs of consciousness to appear. But as he stared at her delicately shut eyes, she still didn’t move a muscle.

“I’ll be here,” he stated, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was talking to her or himself. “I said I wasn’t leaving you, and I won’t. I’ll get you some food, like, actual good food for you, some water, the whole nine yards. ‘Cause I need you.”

Still staring at the unconscious sysop, Watney sighed. He had always hated silence, but this one really sucked.

Then again, silence with potential death probably always sucked.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 336

It was late, so late that it qualified as early, which was a really fucking bad sign, if Watney did say so himself. Johanssen had passed out in the afternoon and was still out, somewhere around twelve hours later. At the very least, the extended period had given him time to prepare. He had a cup of water along with one of the few non-potato pieces of food they still had, and he was even prepared to argue when she woke up, because he knew that Johanssen was not going to willingly eat one of the few normal ration packs they had left without a solid argument.

For the nth time this hour, Watney gingerly pressed a finger into Johanssen’s neck, feeling her steady pulse. A quick press on her chest also let him know that she was still breathing, 

“Knock knock,” he shakily whispered in the general direction of Johanssen’s head. Yeah, maybe there was something better to do at a time like this than to make jokes, but he had a feeling he needed them too.

One way or another, she didn’t respond.

He snorted, and it almost sounded like a sob. 

“You know Johanssen, you’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there?’”

Still nothing. Watney bit his tongue.

“Ya.”

He gave her a moment to respond. Nothing.

“Ya who?” he asked, in a voice so quiet that it almost reminded him of Johanssen.

His vision went blurry as he heard an almost imperceptible teardrop splash somewhere near him. Johanssen’s eyes still remained shut.

“Wow, you use that shit Beth? I thought you’d use Google or something.”

Watney hoped that she would have laughed. Or snorted, or groaned, or made any noise whatsoever. But no, she was still unconscious. He wanted to assume that she was still fine. He could hear her breathing and her pulse was steady, so it was just a matter of waiting for her to wake up. Johanssen was going to be fine.

A treacherous voice in his head asked ‘What if she wasn’t?’

At just the implications of that thought, he winced, unable to hold back a sob.

He’d assumed that she was fine before. While he had been concerned about her a few sols ago, he still remained confident in her ability to survive, only for her to literally collapse in front of him. This seemed like just that, more false hope. Like he was setting himself up for even more disappointment.

But the alternative… 

That Johanssen wasn’t waking up… 

Another tear hit the mattress, soon followed by a third. An audible sob almost echoed throughout the Hab, and Watney almost didn’t realize that it came from his own throat.

Denial came first. Then anger, grief, frustration, and a whole slew of other emotions. Johanssen had time and time again been amazing, and he desperately wanted to keep assuming that she’d wake up. But if she wasn’t, the ball was entirely out of his park. While they did have a few pieces of rudimentary medical equipment, they didn’t even have IVs, or even an actual doctor for that matter. If she was slipping, then he had no good way to help her.

Biting his tongue while hating himself for a myriad of reasons, Watney slowly lifted Johanssen’s shirt, exposing her midriff. She had always been thin, but he was certain that her ribs were protruding from her midsection far more sharply than normal. He ran a finger through them, hitching a breath while doing so.

This didn’t seem fine.

“Beth?” he whispered. “Are you there?”

Nothing.

“Oh God,” he whimpered out loud. “You haven’t woken up yet. It’s been twelve hours, even you don’t sleep that long normally, and you’re so thin now, I mean, will you even-”

He stopped. He couldn’t think about that implied question in particular.

He just couldn’t.

A sob mixed in with a scream ripped itself from his chest.

“No. No, no, NO, NO, NO!” he wailed. “Jo-Beth… Come back. P-please...”

God damn it, he thought. He knew that he was better than this. He had always been better than this. Even as he was trembling, a little voice in his head commanded him to pull himself together, but it felt just as damn impossible as the thought of the two of them making it off of this god forsaken planet back on Sol 7.

He pulled Johanssen into a tight hug, not caring about the fact that she was unconscious.

“I. I need you,” he meekly stammered out in between shaky, messy breaths. “Really. Mars sucks. Y-you know this. I know this. It sucks. I don’t want to be here alone, I hate being alone, just...”

Watney buried his face into Johanssen’s chest.

“Please. Come back.”

He was more than willing to stay in that position for however long it took for Johanssen to wake up. More than willing to stay right next to her for as long as humanly possible. But on the lower half of his back, he felt a pair of hands slowly creeping up his body.

Watney stopped sniffling, but the gentle sounds of hitched breathing still occupied the Hab. Just above his own head, he heard a quiet but audible sob.

“Johanssen?”

He had heard her. He knew that he wasn’t dreaming. Johanssen was finally waking up right above him, but some god awful part of his mind still kept thinking that she wasn’t waking up and he desperately fought that part of his mind with every ounce of hope he had.

A familiar feminine voice sobbed as her hands immediately tightened around his torso.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated, crying along with him. “I thought I was fine, really. I wouldn’t have done that to myself on purpose, I wouldn’t have left you alone, I swear...”

Watney made direct eye contact with her, sobbing in a mess of both joy and misery combined. The pain in her eyes was visible amidst the tears staining them, and seeing her alive made his heart flutter and his chest hurt at once as he took in the fact that she was alive.

Watney pulled her into his chest as tightly as he could. He didn’t want to let go.

“Thank God,” he whimpered. “Don’t ever do that again.”

______________________________________________________________________________

That night, or morning, whatever it was, had been an absolute mess. Baring the messiest emotional breakdown he had experienced in years, trumping even the Iris debacle, the rest of the hour had still been a mess of emotions. It had more or less devolved into both of them apologizing to each other, with Johanssen saying that she didn’t mean to push herself that far and Watney being sorry that he didn’t pay enough attention to her. Like most things on Mars, the two of them agreed to a mutual truce in that they both forgave each other.

He also more or less summarized the events of the last sol back to Johanssen, who had in fact been thankful for the recap. She had personally admitted to some of her memories being just a little blurry, to which Watney just shook his head. She diligently heard his recap before actually getting a decent meal.

As he’d expected, Johanssen had been resistant about eating a full meal, especially a full normal ration pack. She claimed that they still needed to ration properly for Sol 549, but Watney had been quick to point out that if she fainted for real, they had basically no equipment whatsoever to help her. Johanssen only agreed to eating the whole ration by adding the amendment that she would share a few bites with Watney. As they split the ‘eggs’ ration on the bunk together, Watney chuckled a little to himself. Once upon a time, he’d joked that they barely tasted like eggs. Now, they were probably the best damn thing he could imagine tasting.

“As much as I know that we need to ration, it was nice to eat the whole package for once,” Johanssen calmly confessed. “When we get back to Earth, there’s no way in hell I’m willingly touching another potato.”

“I thought so,” Watney said with a half hearted smirk. “I swear to fucking God, the first thing I’m going to do when we get back is order a half decent fucking pizza. Not that shit that you guys order in Houston.”

“I don’t even know what you’re complaining about,” Johanssen said with an arched eye. “Normal pizzas aren’t exactly bad.”

“Pfft. That’s just ‘cause you haven’t been to Chicago yet.”

Johanssen let out a light, gentle laugh.

“But Johanssen, this doesn’t mean that you’re out of the woods just yet.” Watney warned, setting the plate aside. “You’re eating seven potatoes a sol until I say you’re fine, and I know you wouldn’t dare bring NASA into this mess.”

“Uh, no,” Johanssen declined. “I’ll go back up to six and two thirds, seven is overkill.”

“Seven isn’t overkill,” he said with just a hint of exasperation. “It’s about as overkill as walking with two legs. If you could just trust basic medical recommendations for once, that'd be great. If I even cut myself down to nine and two thirds, we’d be breaking even. What do you say?”

Johanssen shot him a cautious look. “I don’t know...”

Watney bit his own lip as a familiar anxiety built up in his chest.

“Please.”

Johanssen’s arms went stiff. She flinched.

“Okay,” she agreed, voice neutral. 

Watney gently pulled Johanssen over into a gentle hug, this time without all of the sobbing. As per something resembling their usual hugs, he ran a finger through a few strands of her hair. While NASA did send along some electric razors, neither of them were particularly adept with them, so the strands ran down until they almost grazed her own shoulders.

Gently pulling back, Johanssen smiled at him. He couldn’t help but stare back into her dark brown eyes and her wonderful, gentle smile. A momentarily flutter from his chest reminded him of a few feelings he had been ignoring, and he tried to press them down. But as he embraced those thoughts with red cheeks, he instead arrived at a different conclusion.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Watney leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Johanssen was momentarily stunned and as he pulled away, her cheeks glowed a similar shade of crimson to his own.

“Watney… Did you really...”

Watney stared directly into her eyes, and he remembered exactly why his heart seemed to skip a beat around her.

“Beth. I have something even more important to say.”

Her cheeks glowed even brighter as disbelief appeared in her eyes.

“More important than our food supply? Really?”

“Yep,” he replied, tugging at his shirt collar. “First, just a heads up, this will probably be a little shocking. Well, it might be. Either way, it might fuck up how you feel about me, so feel free to stop me now.”

Johanssen looked back at him sympathetically.

“Watney, you’ve been my friend for years and I’ve gotten to know you better than anyone else. I’m not going to turn my back on you.”

“Eh… you sure?”

She firmly nodded, a similarly firm expression etched on her face.

Watney stopped biting his tongue, only to almost trip on his own nervousness. Half of his mind insisted that this was a dumb idea, but the other half of his mind wanted to press onwards. Half of his mind wanted to wait, to insist that there would be a better time, but the other half of his mind wanted to go for it. Indecisiveness rocked his feelings, and for a moment, he almost backed off. 

Then, the image of Johanssen slamming into the Hab floor and going silent slammed its way into his mind. That even though it seemed like he had all of the time in the world, he had almost lost her.

Waiting wasn’t going to work.

“I love you,” he plainly stated, almost breathlessly.

He looked down, covering his eyes with one of his hands. He wanted to believe that Johanssen felt the same way about him, but those theories were just that, theories. As an astronaut, botanist, and above all a scientist, having a decent theory should have been fine. Now, it just made the hairs on his neck flare.

He waited for her to respond, and she soon began with a sharp intake of breath.

“What!?” she blurted out.

“I, um. Like you. Romantically. As in, I think it’d be pretty cool if I was dating you right now.”

He looked up, not really expecting any reaction in particular. Pleasant surprise or joy would have been nice, flinching back would have been a pretty bad sign, but really, he’d even take a neutral reaction.

On Johanssen’s face, he saw shock. Not just confusion, but that Johanssen couldn’t even comprehend what he had just said.

“WHAT!?”

“Johanssen-no, Beth,” he plainly stated, removing his hand from his forehead before staring into her eyes. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Her cheeks went pale before she began sputtering.

“I… Wha… I don’t even… Are you really-”

Watney waited for her lips to close before carefully giving her another gentle kiss. He made sure to take the time to savor it, just to show her just how much he loved her.

Even after he pulled his face away, she stared at him dumbfounded before clearing her throat and trying to craft a reply.

“ Bloody hell Mark, you really are serious, aren’t you? ” she exasperated.

“Yep, I’m serious,” he replied with a bright grin. “And by the way, while we’re on this topic, your accent’s still fucking adorable. Don’t forget that.”

Johanssen leaned back in shock, promptly clearing her own throat again.

“Fuck you Mark,” she quickly retorted in between coughs. “But really, you’re into me?”

He waited for Johanssen to stare him in the eyes.

“Absol-fucking-lutely!”

Immediately, her cheeks went from pale white to bright red.

“I...”

Her breathing quickened, shifting to an erratic huffing, and Watney couldn’t help but follow her example. His own cheeks reddened too as he waited for Johanssen’s reply.

He stared Johanssen in the eye. Her pupils went small.

“Like… me?”

Mark’s mind immediately went silent. The rest of the sound in the Hab seemed to abruptly cut off too.

“Uh, yeah!” he boldly responded. “You. Trust me, you’re the only hot sysop on the planet that I could have fallen for, because you know just as well as I do that there are no hot Martian babes on this planet.”

Johanssen’s eyes darted to the side, despite there being no other movement in the Hab.

“You have a crush on me. As in, you actually think I’m a good choice for dating you.”

He stared at Johanssen in disbelief.

“I mean, of course! I’ve been kissing for the last few hundred sols, making jokes about fucking you, dancing with you, and fuck me, I literally asked you to tell me how I stack up to the other people you dated! Of course I’m into you!”

Johanssen jolted backwards in surprise, propping herself up with her hands so she wouldn’t fall over. The pieces were there, but he was only just putting them together. Her blush, her hesitation despite all of the little signs he knew she was into him, the fact that she was struggling with just the thought that he liked her.

“You think I’m good enough for you?”

It was Watney’s turn to flinch back in surprise.

Johanssen let out a gasp of surprise.

“Sorry,” she quickly amended, her cheeks glowing even brighter. “I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.”

He gaped at her, almost in denial at her last question. Johanssen stared back at him with confusion and concern still etched on her face.

She really didn’t think he wanted her.

Mark blinked, taking a quick breath. “Okay. I… think we’re running into just a bit of a communications issue, and this time it isn’t Pathfinder.” 

“I guess we are,” she agreed, the bright color slowly fading away from her cheeks.

“Man, Beck would be laughing his ass off at us now, wouldn’t he?”

Johanssen sheepishly smiled back at him.

“Pretty much.”

“You know what? Why don’t you ask a question?” Watney offered. “You seem like you’re struggling with something for once, so giving you a helping hand is the least I can do.”

Johanssen lightly exhaled, gently cracking her knuckles after sitting up straight.

“Okay,” she began. “You’re into me.”

“I’m into you.”

“Why?”

“Okay, there’s the fact that you’re smart as hell, super talented, have my sense of humor, and a fuckton of other generic traits that you must’ve heard a million times over. But, to just get to the point, I… feel like I can be me around you. Not gonna lie, I do have a bit of an issue with bottling up emotions, but people don’t get through to me. Ever. Even my parents sort of have issues with that.”

Watney couldn’t help but laugh at that last thought. Johanssen was arguably closer to him than his parents and she could barely believe it herself.

“Then, you came along. We laughed, we cried, we did science, but what I’m, um, really into is the fact that you told me that I don’t have to be strong. And for once, it worked.”

Watney saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye. Normally, he would have tried to bat it away in frustration, but he instead just laughed as it rolled down his cheek.

“Fuck me, I don’t have to be strong! I don’t have to just help other people laugh, I can feel what I want to feel. And that...”

He stared at Johanssen. She looked back at him in awe.

“That’s amazing.”

Johanssen exhaled, looking completely breathless.

“I...” she began, still in disbelief.

Watney gave her a firm pat on the shoulder, still smiling.

She let out a gentle snort of what sounded like laughter. “That’s hilarious.”

Watney just shook his head, ready for Johanssen’s response.

“Really though, that’s almost ironic. I think I like you too Mark... Romantically, obviously. But I sort of hesitated because… I never thought I was good enough for you.”

Johanssen paused, rubbing at her eyes a little bit.

“I mean, you were Mark Watney. The guy everyone knew, the greatest friend a person could ask for. Smart as hell, funny as hell, and the most damn determined guy to walk out of NASA. I was just some dumb sysop whose only good friend was a dorky doctor. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell with you, even when you did ask about my romantic life.”

He could have sworn he saw a patch of dampness near Johanssen’s eye sockets.

“It’s funny isn’t it? You fell in love with me because you didn’t have to be perfect, and I didn’t think I had a chance in hell with you because I thought you were perfect.”

“Heh. Johanssen, I suppose it is.”

Johanssen leaned in to press a kiss into his cheek, before she pulled away from him with bright red cheeks.

“Oh, fuck me,” he moaned, grabbing his forehead with a hand. “This really was just a bunch of communication issues, wasn’t it?”

She snorted. “I wonder if the Doc will believe this.”

“Pfft, I’ll back you up. Although, just to confirm, you like me too, right?”

Johanssen’s eyes went wide.

“Wha- of course I do! I literally said it myself!”

Watney sharply exhaled, using up the last of his breath.

“Yeah, I know, really fucking dumb question. But after all of the other shit we talked about, I thought it was a good idea to ask. Well, lucky significant other number seven, I suppose.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say I’m much better than you,” she said with a snort. “I mean, in the grand scheme of things, five and seven are pretty damn close to each other.”

“The bright side is that if we stay together until Sol 549, you’ll have blown everyone else out of the water.”

“Yeah, and by a factor of three at that,” she added. “Although, addressing the elephant in the room, how did your past relationships end? Mine tended to end just because I could never really figure out romance, and man, trying to figure it out with you is going to be interesting to say the least.”

“Eh… funny story about those,” he said as he scratched his collarbone. “They basically all ended because I couldn’t really manage emotional intimacy, for a whole fucking slew of reasons that I think you know. Yeah, I suck at that, but I’ve made more progress with you than literally everyone else combined, so I think we’ll be fine.”

Johanssen leaned in to carefully study his expression.

“So you’re saying I have a chance?”

“Beth, you have more of a chance than any person I’ve even known.”

Johanssen-no, Beth, leaned forward in surprise as her eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Really!?”

“Hell yeah.” Mark carefully caressed one of her cheeks. “Although, on the topic of actually making this a real thing, I think it’s time for us to use our first names.”

She blushed again, and Mark almost laughed. Out of everything that had happened, the fact that Beth was embarrassed by that was hilarious in itself.

“I dunno,” she said cautiously. “Isn’t that too far?”

“Beth,” he stated, gesturing at her with both of his hands. “We are Ares astronauts that are now dating on Mars. We’ve gone so far that we are quite literally on another planet. I don’t think that counts as farther.”

Beth paused to blush, letting out a light chuckle as an afterthought.

“God Wa-er… Mark. I guess you have a point there.”

They both paused, and Mark took the time to think.

“So, what now?” Beth asked.

“I think now’s about the time that we’d normally wake up,” Mark replied, biting back a yawn. “Sorry sunshine, but I think I need to get on potato duty. But in all honesty, I have no fucking clue. I suck at dating, and no offense, but it sounds like you do too.”

“None taken.” Johanssen stood up, quickly stretching her arms. “I suppose the million dollar question for the moment is whether or not we should tell anyone.”

“Can we both agree not to tell NASA?” Mark asked, standing up as well. “Between them lecturing us on professionality, this being a PR fuckfest, and how they left the crew in the dark, I wouldn’t judge you if you didn’t want to tell them.”

“Yeah. Even if this works out, I think we can hide it until we get back to Earth.”

“But just wondering, do you want to tell anyone in particular?”

Johanssen paused in thought, lowering her head for a moment.

“I mean, I’d like to tell my parents,” Mark went on. “It’d be weird to keep them in the dark about a girlfriend I’ve got, you know? If I told them not to tell anyone, I don’t think they would.”

“I don’t think we can.” Beth fidgeted with her hands in front of her. “Even if we send it directly to your parents, it’d still be in NASA’s system. As a sysop, I can assure you that sent messages are very easily viewable by any lurking admins, and I think NASA has a thing for scanning messages for content.” 

Mark crossed his arms, stopping to scowl at the ground for a moment.

“Fucking NASA,” Mark grumbled. ”Don’t you send private messages to Beck? And on that note, just wondering, did you ever tell him about any gooey romantic feelings you had about me?”

“Those are via a direct line with the Hermes, so ground control can’t access them and the only admin in the system is yours truly. And no, I never told the Doc how I felt about you. I… never thought it’d go anywhere.”

“Hmm...” Mark began, beginning to think.

“If you want my two cents, we might just want to tell the whole crew at once,” she suggested. “I’d feel bad if the Doc had to keep this a secret. Plus, even if the commander made some airlock related threats once, I think she’ll let this slide.”

Mark unconsciously flinched a little.

“What?” Beth asked before quickly putting on a smile. “Is the commander that scary?”

“Laugh all you want, the answer is yes,” Mark said. “I would not be surprised if whatever she does is more painful than the damn hydrazine explosion.”

“Aaaaand you still confessed to me,” she deadpanned. “Mark, we’re millions of kilometers away from her, and I like you back. Not to mention, this mission’s gone pretty off script as is. We should at least have the balls to tell her ourselves so she doesn’t end up accidentally finding out about it later.”

“You can only say that because you don’t have any balls to lose yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, you’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ll be here for you. That’s sort of the point of dating me, isn’t it?”

Mark let out a gentle breath. He supposed that she had a point.

“Can we at least wait a few sols to tell them? You know, as a honeymoon period of sorts?”

Beth, despite her momentary flinch, still gave him a punctual nod. Out of courtesy, he reflexively nodded back.

“I guess we can agree on that,” he said. “I should get to tending to the potatoes. Kiss for the road?”

She blushed before leaning over to press their lips together, and he made sure to put some passion into it.

In the bliss of Beth’s embrace, Mark finally lowered his shoulders in relief.

______________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the sol had been just that, a normal sol. He tended to the potatoes and machinery, Beth sent NASA a few updates, carefully leaving out a few select pieces of information, and they both even had the time to quickly run another inspection on the modified rovers. Yeah, he had been just a little tired, but that barely made any difference.

It made a sort of sense. Both of them had been in light romantic relationships before, and as a result both of them knew how to work, even with lingering romantic sentiments. So while his heart did feel a little lighter that sol, it had still been more or less normal.

Mark had been musing over that thought as he stood next to the bed with Beth by his side.

“You know, this sort of shakes things up,” Beth commented, tilting her head at Mark. “We’ve shared the bed before, but now...”

“Well, if you insist...” he began, mockingly beginning to pull his shirt over his head.

“Mark, no!” she cried in concern.

“Mark, yes!” he retorted with his shirt collar at his chin.

“Although seriously Mark, let’s not do… those things,” she said with a blush. “At least, not for a while, okay?”

Mark let out a throaty snort, pulling his shirt back down. “Did you really think I was serious?”

“I’d like to remind you that I had no idea that you liked me back until this sol,” she dryly said. “I’m honestly not sure anymore.”

Mark shook his head. “Joking about fucking you is one thing, actually doing it is another thing entirely. Besides, I can’t really say I’m that type of guy.”

“Well, I mean, it has been a while since we’ve been on Earth… ” she mused with a thoughtful expression.

Mark ruffled her hair. “Do you want me to bang you!?”

“No!” she stressed, holding her hands up in surprise. “All I’m saying is that I’d understand if you had some of those thoughts...”

Mark let out a breath of acceptance, unconsciously shaking his head. He couldn’t really judge Beth for being romantically incompetent when he barely knew romance either.

“News flash Beth, I’m not really looking for that. In all honesty? We could just do what we normally do every day and I’d be fine with it.”

“Really?”

He almost immediately responded yes, but he bit his tongue at the last second to actually think about it. But off of the top of his head, there really wasn’t anything he wanted to add. Messing around with her, watching some old medical comedies, sciencing the shit out of literally everything, they had everything.

He blinked in realization. He was fine with life, even if they were stranded on Mars.

“Really,” he assured, just a little surprised himself. “Although, I won’t complain if for some reason, you want to kiss me more...”

She arched an eye. He almost didn’t realize that his humor had silently snuck into the end of his comment, but he nevertheless quickly opted to give her a shit eating grin.

“Well, I would be lying if I said kissing you wasn’t completely worth it...” she confessed.

Mark snickered. Beth rolled her eyes.

“In all honesty, I don’t see why anything has to actually change,” he said. “Just because we’re dating doesn't mean we'll fuck every night.”

“Well, that’s pretty obvious, but addressing those other possibilities is pretty necessary,” she said as she got into the bed.

“But, all things considered, if you want to sleep without a shirt or something, I’m not complaining!” He followed her lead into the bed, sliding into position next to her.

“Oh, har har har,” she deadpanned, carefully nestling herself within the blankets. “In your dreams Mark.”

“Well, I guess that’s fine if we’re dating...”

“Wha… no!” she blurted out, her cheeks glowing red. “Did you have to say that? I don’t need that mental image in my life… ”

“Suck it Johanssen,” he retorted as he got comfortable as well. “And if you really want to, I could always pull off my pants...”

Johanssen’s cheeks glowed even brighter. 

“Dating you is going to come with more innuendos than I could ever ask for, won’t it?”

“Pretty much,” he nonchalantly confirmed. “It happened with everyone else I dated, and I’m probably going to double down for you.”

“The sad thing is they might actually work on me,” Johanssen said, reluctantly beginning to smile. “You and your stupid charm.”

He grinned in her general direction. 

“Hey, I am the most most charming botanist on the-”

She responded by nonchalantly pressing a hand into his face.

“Pfft-hey!” he exclaimed, trying to move her arm out of the way with only a little success.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically rolling her eyes as well. “If you’re going to be like that, guess I have to kick you out… ” she moaned. “It’s a shame I have to do this to my own boyfriend...”

“This was my bunk in the first place you melodramatic, and we don’t even have another free bunk!”

“A shame...”

He narrowly glanced at her. If she wanted to be like that, then fine.

“Actually, you know what?” he said with a scheming smirk. “You’re free to try Beth, but good luck pushing me off of this bed when you’re not even twelve hours off of passing out on the floor.”

Johanssen’s eyes snapped back into consciousness, and Mark could feel the ‘I told you so’ on his lips.

“Shit,” she blurted out, dropping her dramatic flare. “I might have actually attempted to push you out had you not reminded me about that.”

“You forgot about the fact that you fainted? Really?”

“Well, in my defense, I’m feeling a lot better now.”

Mark almost replied with his usual snark, but as he opened his mouth, he let out a yawn. Drowsiness built up behind his eyes.

“Uh, Mark?” Beth asked with a hint of concern.

“I’m alright. Just tired is all.” He slowly closed his eyes, turning over onto his side. “I haven’t slept in something like forty hours.”

“Ah, right,” Johanssen accepted. “I can’t exactly say I don’t know what that’s like. You want to just go to sleep now?”

“Mmm,” he groaned. He would have nodded, but he really didn’t want to try lifting his head.

He heard Beth shifting around next to him.

“Huh. You know, I normally wouldn't try to sleep at this hour, but I suppose I owe you one after you watched over me last night."

He attempted to reply, but it just came out as a throaty snort.

Beth sighed with a smile on her lips. "By the way, thanks for that. Sweet dreams Mark.”

Between the warmth radiating from Beth's side and his own drowsiness, he drifted to sleep more easily than he had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Mitch quietly got himself seated at the meeting conference table next to a rather disgruntled Annie as both Teddy and Venkat waited on their side of the table.

“Let me guess,” Mitch began. “More of the same?”

“Essentially,” Venkat replied. “Right now, it’s finally Sol 375 on Mars. I think we all know what that means.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Annie squinted at Venkat as she aggressively tapped a finger against the conference table. “Everything’s been held up for the potato farm, what’s new? Did you really rope me back into these meetings for the first time in months just to tell me that everything was still the same?”

“No, of course not,” Teddy dryly replied. “We haven’t been inviting you because the last few months have been dedicated to analyzing and vetoing the final rover modification plans. But as of now, we remain confident as to what we will now refer to as Phase Two of the rover modifications.”

Annie let out a dismayed snort. “Jesus Christ, do any of you even have creativity?”

“Shut the hell up Annie,” Mitch growled. “The damn Phase Two plans practically kept changing every damn week. The only thing that was actually constant was the fact that it was going to happen after the potato harvest.”

“And I believe this is where I step in,” Venkat said with an air of authority. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, while the early parts of the second harvest seemed problematic at best, some minor adjustments on Watney’s end mean that we’re approaching a situation that seems survivable. Furthermore, since both Watney and Johanssen will be living in only the rovers for almost fifty sols, with a minimal amount of space to move around in, it is also possible that they could reduce their rations during that time as well.”

Annie, after staring at Venkat for a moment, brought her head down carefully to transcribe a few notes into a small notebook.

“Getting better… fifty sols… rations...”

“I’ll take that as you getting the gist of it,” Teddy said. “As a fair warning going into the Phase Two plans, we understand that these plans are risky, but we have deemed them to be necessary.”

Mitch snorted. “Yeah, good luck explaining ‘cutting a hole in the Hab’.”

Annie froze momentarily, jolting her pencil away from the page. Her eyes went wide as she stared back at Mitch.

Venkat sighed. “Mitch, of all of the ways to tell her...”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Mitch muttered. “In short, it was one of things that we sort of knew that we needed to do, but we did bounce back and forth on it a lot. The issue is just that we need a lot of Hab canvas for the modifications.”

“To be specific, we need more Hab canvas to finish sealing Rover 2 so it can hold all of the equipment,” Teddy added, picking up the baton. “They also need to have enough canvas in order to shield themselves from the RTG, and for repairs if necessary. Moreover, Watney has also brought up the idea of building a sort of… workshop.”

As Annie shifted her gaze towards Teddy, Mitch just shook his head.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to put it...”

“Fuck you too, Mitch,” Annie shot back.

“And there’s the usual swear,” Mitch noted, leaning back in his chair. “Watney actually came to us with the idea of building a bedroom of sorts out of the poptents, and that was actually the initial reason we planned to cut the Hab open.”

“Really?” Annie asked. “You’re telling me Watney’s cutting apart the Hab just to make a bedroom?”

“To be fair, the psychology department has been all for this,” Venkat admitted. “The rovers don’t have much living space, and they’ll also be crammed with everything needed for the Schiaparelli trip. Not to mention, a bedroom could be easily repurposed as a workshop.”

Annie said nothing, instead opting to slowly lower her pencil back onto the notepad.

“Please tell me that the rest of this damn plan is more reasonable,” she grumbled.

“That was the most invasive of the approved plans,” Teddy said with a hint of relief. “The power situation will be solved by adding two Hab batteries to the rovers while also storing excess CO2 instead of immediately converting it into oxygen. The power savings from the latter are mission enabling.”

“I still can’t say that I approve of them though,” Venkat added. “If anything happens to the oxygenator-”

“Watney can fix it,” Mitch sharply interrupted. “If we try to squeeze some margin into the oxygen supplies, then we drag out the whole trip and run the risk of missing the Hermes flyby entirely. Anyways, they’ll be travelling with the oxygenator onhand, so Watney will have easy access for maintaining and fixing it.”

Venkat closed his mouth, not bothering to add anything after Mitch’s argument.

“If you’re not going to tell Annie about the trailer Venk, I will.” Mitch casually cracked his knuckles, clearing his throat as well. “We told you this a while ago, but Johanssen and Watney have been developing a trailer out of leftover parts. It’s been rough, but they’ve got something that more or less rolls well. They’ll be using it to store more solar panels.”

“At least that part doesn’t sound too bad,” Annie commented.

“If we’re lucky, it won’t be.” Venkat casually let out a yawn, fluttering his eyes a bit. “Can we call this meeting adjourned?”

A muffled buzzing sound indicated that apparently, the meeting was not in fact done yet.

Mitch arched an eye at Teddy. “Is that your phone? I thought you muted it.”

“There are a few people that I don’t mute out of necessity,” Teddy stated, quickly pulling it out of his pocket and turning it on. “It’s Bruce.”

“Really?” Venkat asked. “Isn’t it four in the morning over in Pasadena?”

“It is, but that never stops him,” Teddy commented, scrolling down through the message. “Apparently he just woke up. Something about a preparation needed for Mars.”

Mitch let out a bark of surprise.

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down now, does it?”

“Actually, it might come in handy,” Teddy said before turning off his phone. “Bruce just realized that Johanssen and Watney should bring all of the water they can to the Ares 4 MAV.”

“Wait, the water?” Annie inquired. “Why do we need the water?”

Venkat made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Electrolysis.”

“Exactly,” Teddy confirmed, lowering his phone back into his pocket. “If we can electrolyze the water into hydrogen, we can feed it into the MAV fuel plant, giving us some more margin for the launch.”

“Will it make a difference?” Annie asked, twirling the pencil in her hand.

“Almost certainly. The MAV fuel plan can make thirteen kilograms of fuel for every kilogram of hydrogen, so we’ll be getting a lot from this.”

“The only thing I’m worried about is the refinery time,” Venkat muttered. “It’ll take some time to process all of that fuel, and I’m not sure that we have said time.”

Teddy raised a hand to his chin. “Hmm… you do have a point. We should probably run that idea past the chemistry department to see how long it’ll take to refine the extra fuel.”

“From what I remember, I think they’ve been saying that the fuel reaction’s been going faster than expected, so I think we’ll be fine,” Venkat recalled. “Mitch, you can go to the Pathfinder control room by yourself, I need to go talk to the chemistry department.”

“Sounds good,” Mitch agreed, standing up. “I’ll let you know what happens on Mars later.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 375

“We’ve got another six over here Mark,” Beth said, shoving said potatoes into the storage container. “How’s it looking over there?”

“Two, four, six… seven?” he stated, just a little confused. “Fuck me, is that another crop of seven potatoes!?”

“I trust that you can at least count to seven correctly,” she said with a smirk.

Both of them had been working with a cautiously optimistic mood as they slowly harvested the whole crop. While the crop had been doing much better than it had been in the earlier sols, both astronauts knew just how easily circumstances could change on a dime. However, the general trend of each plant yielding five or six good potatoes, with the occasional seven, seemed to be a good sign.

Mark smiled as he haphazardly dropped the last few potatoes into his container. “Well, fair enough. Care us to give us a final total?”

“With pleasure,” Beth replied, waiting as Mark turned towards her. “We stored 2,500 potatoes in other storage containers from the rest of the harvest, pop-tents and all, and I’ve harvested another 45 from over here. You?”

“91 for me,” Mark said with a shrug. “Now, I’m not the one with the math degree here, but I think that’s 2,636 in total. How many were we hoping for?”

“2,645,” she said, thoughtfully bringing a finger to her chin. “That’s not even 17 off, so we’re still at about Sol 553 in terms of food.”

“Beth, we can last a little further than Sol 553,” he said, clamping the lid down onto the storage container. “Did you just so happen to forget all of the fucking rationing?”

Beth flinched, momentarily breaking eye contact with him.

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly picking up the pace once more. “Sorry about that. All in all, I think we’ll be able to last until Sol 560, give or take.”

“And at this point, anything more would be fucking ridiculous,” he said with a scoff. “It’s not like we can stop the laws of physics if we’re ten sols too slow, so you better stop this rationing bullshit, alright?”

“Hmm… ” she said in a somewhat thoughtful tone. “Fine. I guess we’ll need to be fit enough for the MAV launch on Sol 549 anyways.”

Mark let out an involuntary breath. Johanssen turned to him, just a little concerned.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered, his mind spacing out just a little. “Sorry. To be blunt, it’s still pretty fucking insane that we’re driving all the way to Ares 4. I mean, just ‘cause the science works doesn’t make it any less insane!”

“You’re talking to an astronaut on Mars,” she deadpanned, emphasizing the end of her sentence. “As an astronaut on Mars yourself.”

“At least the getting to Mars part of our lives was actually fucking planned!” he loudly quipped.

Johanssen let out a small bark of laughter in response.

“I guess you’ve got a point,” she supposed, delicately grabbing the edge of the storage container. “But speaking of plans, has NASA finally given us the rest of the rover modifications?”

“Not yet, but they’ll send ‘em to us once I send them the second harvest data,” he said as she slowly walked over to the intercom. “It’s either things you know already, like the trailer, or hopeless convoluted bullshit, like the best way to build a heat reservoir with the RTG. But there’s one thing that I should probably tell you about.”

“Care to share it with me?” Beth asked as she followed him

“Sure. Just gimme a second.”

The duo stopped once they were at the intercom system, and Beth propped herself up on the edge of a table. Watney roughly seated himself into the intercom chair as the chair made an audible creak.

“Ugh...” he moaned, leaning back as he closed an eye. “I almost forgot how much harvesting the fucking potatoes sucked.”

“Well, maybe the rover modifications will be better,” she replied with a sprinkle of hope. “I mean, it’s not like NASA would approve of a plan that would actually be dangerous, right?”

“Um,” Mark began, suspiciously not saying anything of actual value. “Um...”

She flashed him an unsure expression.

“Uh, Mark?”

“Um...”

She snorted, throwing in a facepalm for good measure.

“Let me guess,” she muttered. “I’ll be eating my own words?”

“A little bit,” he confirmed, looking at her with a pinch of what looked like pity.

Beth audibly sighed, dragging her open palm across her face.

“Are you fine with it?”

“I was the one who fucking proposed the idea!” he bluntly said with a grin. “Of course I’m fine with it!”

Beth shook her head a little, still precariously balancing herself on the edge of the table. “I should’ve figured, there’s no way that NASA would've come up with a plan that was actually fucking dangerous by themselves...” she said as a reluctant smile appeared on her face.

“I’ll take that as you trusting me with this plan, got it?”

“Of course I trust you,” she replied, slowly lowering her hand. “Care to explain it?”

“Sure. Remember how your back was fucked up for a few dozen sols after the Pathfinder mission?”

“‘Course I do,” she said with an eye roll. “And unfortunately, we’ll be doing a mission that’s five times as long with even less living space. Sucks, but it beats dying.”

“But what if it didn’t have to suck as much?” he asked with a grin.

“That’d be nice, but it’s not really possible. We can’t exactly bring along more living space with us.”

“But what if we could?”

Beth snapped her head towards Mark, who was grinning even brighter.

“It’d… be nice,” she cautiously admitted. “But we can’t just bring along more living space with us.”

“We could,” he said, clicking into the communications channel. “We can’t just bring the whole Hab along, but we can do something else. By splicing together the pop-tents now that they’ve no longer got potatoes in them, we can make a decently sized living space. One we could actually lie down in.”

“Mmm,” she said with a nod. She was impressed. With a little luck, maybe her back wouldn’t get quite as mangled as it did last time. “Why did NASA approve of this?”

“Workshop,” he explained. “We might need work on some parts in a pressurized area over at the Ares 4 MAV, and we can also use our bedroom for that. But before we continue, brace yourself. This next part is very, very technical and very, very hard to understand.”

She squinted at him. In Mark’s terms, that meant ‘even a toddler could understand this’.

Mark gestured at her with both of his hands.

“In order for this bedroom, along with some other shit that NASA wants, we need Hab canvas. Way more than the six square meters we’ve got, and that’s not even accounting for the other shit we still need to make.”

“Sure.”

“But, follow me closely, we can also take Hab canvas from the Hab.”

She blinked. Her eyes went wide.

“What.”

It came out as a statement more than anything.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a grin. “There’s just a bit of an issue in that if we cut a hole in the Hab, we won’t have any more air left.”

“Well, we’ll technically still have the air, it’s just that it’ll be spreading across the rest of the planet, mixing in with all of the CO2,” she said, finishing her sentence with a snort.

He snorted, mock offended.

“Ignoring you being a snarky shit, we’ll be cutting a few pieces out of the Hab,” Mark continued. “We'll depressurize it, I’ll duct tape it back together, and then we won’t want to rip our faces off while we live in the rover.”

“You say we won’t, but it’s gonna happen,” Beth commented. “Sleeping in the rovers sucks. But I do trust your instincts when it comes to ripping the Hab apart like a toddler.”

“Hey!” he asserted, raising his voice a little. “I don’t just rip things apart! I have a fancy degree that tells me how to rip things apart the right way!”

“Yeah, right,” she said with an eye roll. “I just don’t tell you normally so you feel good about yourself.”

Mark let out a sharp gasp. “Betrayed by my closest friend, how could this be?” he melodramatically cried.

“Hey now, is that the break-up we’ve been waiting for?” she said with an arched grin.

“Nope, not yet.” Mark took a moment to also enter a quick message into the laptop. “Better luck tomorrow.”

Beth chuckled lightly. With the number of failed relationships both of them had been in, jokes about them breaking up had been inevitable. While there had been the initial concern of a breakup actually happening, those concerns had died down rather quietly by Sol 350. So, all in all, things had been going smoothly.

Smoothly, except for the fact that no one else knew about it.

“Alright, that’s the final potato count sent,” Mark said, slamming a finger into the Enter key. “I think that’s it.”

“Actually, it might not be,” she said thoughtfully. Mark turned his head towards her.

“Uh, Beth?”

“I think now might be a good time to tell the crew.”

Beth looked at him, almost expecting him to flinch. He didn’t. Mark just went silent.

“I mean, things are good, right?” she asked.

“Not really,” he replied. “We’re about to go fuck with the Hab after all. Might be better to wait a few more sols, just so things don’t get too ridiculous if they do go wrong.”

“You do have a point,” she said. “But you’re fine with telling them, right?”

“I… ” Mark’s lips moved as he bit his tongue a little. “Yeah. They should know. I like you, you like me, and we want to be together. It’s that simple.”

“It’s only simple because you left out the complicated parts,” she muttered.

“Well, yeah… but it’ll work out.” Mark turned off the intercom system, cautiously moving his chair backwards so he had room to leave. “We’ll just… be careful with the wording.”

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 532

Beck cautiously entered the Rec room with his laptop underneath his arm.

“It’s time for the daily status meeting, and let’s hope it’s a little bit better than the last one,” she said, carefully clasping her hands together in front of her.

“If only Commander,” Vogel said with a sigh. “Something is afoot with the reactor, causing its heat output to rise. I hoped that it would not get any worse, but it’s finally reached the point where I have to reduce its output. The only good news is that I repaired the bad cable on VASIMR 4, albeit I did use the last of the thick-gauge cable.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with it?”

Vogel shook his head. “ Nein. This would be Johanssen’s area of expertise. I don’t have a clue as to what is wrong.”

The Commander looked like she was biting back a sigh.

“Very well,” she stated, more or less neutrally. “Running into expertise problems was more or less guaranteed by now. We’ll send the problem over to NASA for some advice. Beck, how’s life support?”

“Uh, limping,” he said, doing his best to not trip over his own words. “NASA gave me a recipe for a chemical bath to clean some of the filters, but it still damages them a bit. But I think we should still be fine. Hopefully.”

For a moment, he almost saw a twitch of exhaustion on the Commander’s face.

“Martinez, how’s the trajectory?”

“Doing fine,” he retorted to her, leaning back in his chair. “NASA’s already triple checked the whole route, so navigation’s basically on autopilot for now. Not to mention, my side of the engineering maintenance is still fine. The only issue is, um, my room.”

The commander made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Right, you mentioned something about a heating issue?”

“It’s like 40 degrees in there,” Martinez said with a huff. “I think it’s a coolant problem, but the tube’s, like, really deep. I don’t think we can fix it right now.”

“Have you tried Mark’s room?”

“I poked my head in there, it’s just as hot,” he explained. “Johanssen’s seemed fine though.”

“Okay, you can stay in Johanssen’s room for now. Does anyone else have anything to add?”

“I do,” Beck said a little anxiously. “Johanssen and Watney just sent me a message from Mars, and it has both good news and… news.”

“What?” Martinez said with a grin. “Did the two of them test out planetary repopulation?”

Beck felt his cheeks become a little paler. Martinez quickly dropped his grin.

“Wait, did they-”

“Back to what I was saying, Johanssen and Watney have finished the Hab cutouts,” Beck interrupted. “They have the pieces they need for the rest of their rover modifications and a few extra for margin.”

Vogel stared blankly at Beck. “Doctor, a simple ‘no’ would have worked for the previous question. Why didn’t you just say no?”

“Um. It’s just… a little hard to explain by myself.”

Beck used the opening to quickly place his laptop onto the main Rec table, ignoring the concerned looks of the rest of the crew. Once he clicked into his most recently sent message, he turned to read the email once again along with the rest of the crew just to make sure he wasn't missing anything.

Guys:

Hey. Beck, I guess you can see that something’s up, that’s just because it’s both of us.

As a way of hopefully smoothing out the transition (Johanssen here, I don’t think it’ll work), we’ve just finished the Hab cutouts and we’ll be working on putting everything together shortly.

But as a side note, things have been pretty insane for the past year or so, to say the least. Both of us have gotten to know each other in ways that would’ve never happened if we weren’t on Mars. After a while, both of us decided to pursue a relationship.

A romantic relationship, just to be clear.

(Watney here, anyone order a romantic Martian sitcom? We’ve got you covered.)

Before we go any further, both of us have reciprocal feelings. Both of us came up with and entertained the idea individually, and the confession came from Watney on Sol 336. The last few sols have been wonderful, and both of us would like to think that they’ve been the best starting period of any relationship either of us have ever been in (Watney, feel free to take that with a massive fucking grain of salt).

We understand that the Commander and NASA initially and explicitly told us not to start anything, but to be blunt? Mars sucks. Living every sol like we might drop dead is just plain awful, and also a bit of an eye opener. Watney sort of confessed because he was worried about something happening to Johanssen (Watney, completely true. I was fucking terrified about whether or not she’d be fine for a little bit, and that sort of gave me the motivation to confess).

Neither of us are all that good with this stuff, but we’re still enjoying it. All we’re asking for now is just for none of you to tell anyone on Earth about this, especially not NASA. After what happened with Pathfinder, that request seems reasonable enough. We’ve even got a bit of a plan for when we do get back.

Here’s to seeing you guys on Sol 549,

Johanssen and Watney

Beck watched as the rest of the crew stared blankly at the message. Frankly, he didn’t even see it coming. The thought that Johanssen was actually dating Watney of all people was still ridiculous, even if he did see the text plainly in front of him.

Martinez was the first to react, letting out a snort.

“So, who’d have thought that they’d actually try interplanetary repopulation?” he said with a smirk.

Beck let out a loud exhale. “Actually, Johanssen gave me a little addendum via the chat. Everything’s been above the belt so far.”

“I mean, how much longer do ya think that’ll last?”

“If I know Johanssen, and believe me, I do, she’s gonna wait a while. No need to worry about that.”

“Besides,” Vogel amended with a thoughtful expression. “Given the nature of the mission, it’s fair to say that both of them are… resistant to those thoughts.”

The commander remained silent, still staring at the message.

“Uh, Commander?” Beck asked. “You alright?”

“Just a little confused,” she replied, still focused on the screen. “On one hand, this is a level of unprofessionalism that I didn’t think they could reach and I’d rather they didn’t. But on the other hand, I don’t think I really have any right to tell them to stop.”

Beck stared at her for a moment, frowning a little.

“I mean, is there really anything wrong with it?”

The commander looked at him shocked, and he almost didn’t realize that he was the one who said those words.

“I want to say yes, and every instinct I’ve ever had is also saying yes. But now...” The commander trailed off before letting out a slow breath. “They’re right. This mission’s gone insane, and whether or not we’ll get them back is still up in the air.”

“If the mission’s gone insane, especially on their front, then I think it’d be fair to bend to bend the rules a bit,” Martinez commented. “I mean, it’s sort of like giving them a slice of life that they don’t really have at the moment.”

Beck gave him a curt nod. The commander frowned at the floor.

“ Ja ,” Vogel added. “They’re already stranded on Mars. The least we can do is to let them enjoy the few things they do have.”

The commander went silent for a while, staring into the empty space in front of her. Eventually, she gave herself a weak nod.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I should just let them be happy with each other. It’s the least I can do.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 414

Mark wryly grinned at nothing in particular as he stood on his side of the Pathfinder probe. “So, how much do you wanna bet this thing’s gonna fall apart immediately?”

“How does negative 20 dollars sound?” Beth shot back, getting into position on her side.

Mark scoffed.

“Oh sure, trust the decades old probe to stay together now that I’ve applied a bit of duct tape to it!” he snarked.

“To be fair, we are still trusting the fact that the decades old probe will continue to work...” she pointed out.

Mark shook his head, albeit it wasn’t all that visible due to the lack of suit mobility.

“You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“‘Kay. Let’s do this!”

For the first time in a few hundred sols, the two of them hoisted Pathfinder into the air once more. They had been skeptical about moving the probe again, but unfortunately needs had to be met. They were almost ready to leave. The life support had been moved in, faux potatoes in the form of rocks had been supplied to mimic the weight the rovers would have to haul, and the bedroom had been finalized and thoroughly tested for structural integrity. Pathfinder was all that was left.

He still wished that they could have done it later.

Carefully shuffling to the side, both of them took extra care to make sure that the probe didn’t fall apart yet again. Mark had gone through a solid half a roll of duct tape, and Beth had provided a second eye on whether or not the whole assembly looked stable. It seemed to work, and the two of them approached the makeshift rover ramp Mark made out of MAV struts.

“Approaching the ramp,” he stated.

“Duly noted,” Beth replied. “Let’s tilt it. Carefully, of course.”

He carefully twisted his arms as they carefully pressed Pathfinder into the impromptu ramp. Once the whole base was firmly pressed onto said ramp, he directed his force into pushing the probe upwards as Beth did the same. With just a little huffing, Pathfinder finally settled on the roof of Rover 2, right next to the Hab canvas bulging out of the roof. It only took a little bit of extra effort for the two of them to throw a few makeshift Hab canvas ropes over the probe.

Mark wheezed as they both stared at the probe. “We did it. Yay.”

“And I think you owe me twenty bucks,” Beth snarked before gasping for air herself.

He snorted. “Nah. See, the beautiful thing is that I never actually accepted the bet, so I don’t actually lose anything!”

“It sure sounded like you thought it was going to fall apart,” she said with what must have been an eye roll underneath her helmet.

Mark let out a quick snort before tugging at her hand. “Well, I’ll buy you dinner when we get back to Earth. First dinner, I swear!”

“Second dinner,” she insisted, following his lead. “When Earth figures out that we’re dating, I want to at least be on equal footing with you.”

“Fair enough,” he said as they both walked into Rover 1’s airlock. “Brace yourself.”

Mark slammed the button, and the entire airlock hissed as it sealed shut and pressurized itself. Both of them simply waited for the hissing to stop before unsuiting and leaving their suits on the nearby wall.

“God,” Mark commented, looking at the inside of the Rover while Beth finished unsuiting. “It’s just a fucking mess in here.”

He supposed it wasn’t actually all that messy, but rather cramped. It was more or less stuffed with the various things both of them agreed to keep in a pressurized area, such as personal items and clothes. He carefully weaved his way through the cramped quarters as Johanssen followed right behind him.

He eventually arrived at the front seat, and Beth settled right next to him in the same seat. Even if it was only one seat, she was still small enough that they could both fit.

“Are you ready for the real moment of truth?” he asked, his hand hovering over the control joystick for the rover.

“Almost. Just look at this screen over here,” she said, pointing to a display of what appeared to be the trailer in all of its macgyvered glory, fully laden with seven solar panels. “I know you’ve been a little worried about the trailer, so I attached this camera to the back of Rover 2 so we can watch it.”

“Cool,” he said, smiling at Beth. “Are we ready?”

She shrugged, smiling right back at him.

“Go for it.”

Mark twitched the control joystick forward, and the whole rover slowly trundled onwards. Everything seemed to rattle, right from their seats all the way to the folded bedroom and beyond, but otherwise everything seemed to be holding together.

“Trailer looks good,” Beth commented, staring at the associated screen. “You really did a great job with it, you know that?”

“Sure fucking hope so,” he said back to her. “It took me a solid thirty sols just to perfect the damn thing, if it still doesn’t work I’ll just throw some freeze dried shit on it and hope that’ll work.”

Beth sharply exhaled, clearly amused. 

“Only thing I will say is that it would’ve been nice to have a camera for Pathfinder,” he said while scratching his chin with his free hand. “I mean, we should probably have a better way of making sure it’s okay rather than ‘keep driving if we haven’t heard a crash’.”

“I was originally just going to have it constantly pinging the rover, but now that I think about it, we still wouldn’t know if anything was wrong until the probe breaks,” she said, laying out her reasoning. “When we’re done with this test, I’ll go install that second camera.”

“Although, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d mind if we actually broke Pathfinder...”

A smile crept onto his face as Beth turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“Beg pardon?”

“Mars is international waters, right?”

“Uh...” Beth casually twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “Yeah.”

“As of now, NASA still hasn’t given us permission to enter the Ares 4 MAV, mostly ‘cause we haven’t gotten that far yet. But if, let’s say, Pathfinder somehow broke, then we’d be forced to take the Ares 4 MAV without NASA’s permission. So we’d be taking control of a craft in international waters without permission.”

“So...” Beth said, still confused.

“We’d be space pirates!”

She immediately unfurrowed her brow, instead opting to blankly stare at him, just a little shocked.

Mark nudged her with his shoulder while wearing a wide grin. “Huh?”

Beth gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. He immediately froze.

“Heh, sometimes I almost forget how ridiculous you can be,” she replied with a gentle smile. “If dating you means being a pirate queen, then I’m still fine with it.”

Beth leaned her cheek on to his, and he blushed a little. Even without turning his head, he suspected Beth was doing the same.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Who’s the new guy?” Mitch asked as he got seated at the conference table with Venkat, Annie, and Teddy. But in addition to the four of them, Mindy Park and one other person were also seated at the table.

“This is Randall Carter, and he’s one of the Martian meteorologists,” Venkat explained. “He’s found something pretty important, but first we can discuss the final rover modifications. Mindy, could you do the honors?”

“Uh, sure,” she replied, quickly clearing her throat. “While they’ve been sending us status updates more or less every sol, we can still use the satellites to get a little bit more insight into what’s happening down on the surface.”

Teddy turned to Mindy. “And that is?”

“The rover modifications seem to be going well,” she confirmed. “They lashed Pathfinder to the roof of Rover 2 a few sols ago, and the driving tests are going smoothly.”

“Even Watney’s makeshift trailer?” Mitch asked.

“At the very least, nothing’s fallen apart,” she said, unconsciously extending a finger towards the table.

Mitch grinned. “Awesome. We’ll be ready for Sol 549.”

“Not so fast, Mitch,” Venkat said with a raised palm. “Dr. Carter has something important to tell us.”

Dr. Carter nodded as he quickly turned his laptop towards the rest of the people in the room. “Thank you, Dr. Kapoor. Over the past month or so, a dust storm has been developing in Arabia Terra. It’s not strong enough to interfere with their driving, but it’s still enough to significantly reduce the amount of sunlight that reaches the Martian surface.”

“That’s a problem, how exactly?” Annie asked.

“Their rovers are powered by solar panels,” Dr. Carter explained.

“Shit,” Mitch blurted out. “They’re already charging all day, and the Hermes can’t exactly wait for them.”

“Both of those statements are certainly correct, Mitch,” Venkat said with a grim smile. “Even if we tried to get the Hermes to aerocapture around Mars to wait for them, they wouldn’t have enough velocity to return back to Earth.”

“And this might actually get worse,” Mindy quietly added.

“Oh?” Teddy asked. “Ms. Park, would you care to explain?”

“If my memory’s correct, and it might not be, the current plan is to just drive to Schiaparelli with the oxygen reserves so they don’t need to power the oxygenator, right?”

“That’s correct,” Venkat confirmed.

“So, if the storm delays them past the length of their oxygen reserves, it’d basically cripple their driving range, since they’d have to power the oxygenator every few sols. It might even cause them to miss the Hermes flyby entirely.”

The rest of the room went silent.

“Well, I suppose we need to tweak the plans a little,” Teddy asserted. “Dr. Carter, what direction is this storm moving in?”

“More or less West.”

“Hm, away from Schiaparelli and towards Acidalia Planitia…” Teddy said as he turned his head away from the other people in the room. “Okay, we’ll tell them both the news and get them to speed up the final checks. Sol 449 is now the latest possible departure date. I will tentatively suggest Sol 447 as the new departure date, but that is entirely subject to change depending on what happens on Mars. Understood?”

Everyone else in the room nodded.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 446

“So, I guess today’s the day, huh?” Mark asked, waxing just a little philosophical.

“Pretty much,” Beth agreed, standing right next to him. “The potatoes have been cooked, the water is stored, everything’s been checked, and we even have a decent place to store our piss for when we get to Schiaparelli. This is it.”

He gazed out over the Hab, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disturbed. Even without other people on the planet, the Hab's normally noisy systems meant that it was never truly silent. But, with all of said systems in the rovers, silence was all that was left. The only thing that was left in the Hab was the leftover dead soil, killed after the entire Hab was depressurized for the canvas collection.

Beth grabbed his own hand. He squeezed back.

“Do you think we’ll miss this place?” she asked. “I mean, we have been staying here for over a year now.”

“Maybe,” he said, still staring off into the Hab. “But I still don’t like it here.”

He waited a little, hoping for any noise to echo back at him. He heard nothing.

He suddenly felt a kiss being pressed into his forehead, and he blinked. Beth was now in front of him, weakly smiling.

Mark gaped a little. “How did you kiss my forehead?” he asked.

“I jumped,” she said with a blush. “0.4 g.”

He smiled back, taking the opportunity to give her a kiss on the lips.

“Again, Beth, thanks for being here,” he sincerely said. “Mars sucks. There’s nothing to do, it’s a barren desert, and it keeps trying to kill us.”

“Of course,” she replied. “But in a little over a hundred sols, we’ll be back on the Hermes, heading home.”

He let out a sharp breath of air. “Right, it’s not just a hundred sols any more. Stupid fucking Mars and its dust storms…”

“Let’s just be glad NASA gave us a heads up, alright?”

Mark reached an arm around her, and she did the same. The silence still creeped him out.

“I want to go home,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I don’t want to die here.”

“Same,” she agreed, her own voice shaking as well. “I miss everyone, I miss the Earth, I… I want to go home.”

They both turned to face each other, fully embracing each other with a tight hug.

The silence felt almost deafening.

Eventually, Mark gently shook her shoulder. She looked up, a few tears building up in her eyes.

“We’ll get out of here,” he said, genuinely smiling back at her. “We’ve got the world on our side, and that’s not a fucking exaggeration. Everyone’s doing everything they can to get us back, and we’re gonna do everything we can too. We’re both getting out of here, got it?”

She weakly smiled back at him, still holding one of his hands.

“Got it. Are you ready to leave?”

“Ready.”

Without further ado, the two of them slowly got into their EVA suits and left out of Airlock 3. With all of the Hab systems already shut down, they just had to depressurize the Hab. After it fully deflated, both of them slowly walked over to the rover airlock, got inside the rover, and sat right next to each other at the front seat. Mark had the honor of steering the rover forward, away from the Hab one last time.

Both of them silently watched the rear rover camera as the remnants of the Hab disappeared over the horizon.

Chapter Text

SOL 453

“Alright,” Beth said under her breath while entering in one last line of code. “I think that’s it.”

“But in sysop terms, that means you’ve still got another twelve versions to make, right?”

Beth dryly wheezed as Mark made his way over to the front of the rover. But given how small their living space was, he didn’t even need fifteen seconds.

She made room for Mark as he squeezed in next to her. 

“Care to explain what your little side project does?” he asked, casually looking over the code on her screen,

“It’s a map program,” she explained, gesturing at the blinking prompt line. “We use the same formulas for longitude and latitude every sol, and the only things that change are our angle relative to the pole, or Deneb, and the time Phobos sets. I’ve just streamlined the whole calculation process.”

Mark squinted at her, as if he was waiting for something. Beth stared back at him blankly.

“What?”

He snorted. “We both know you’re leaving something out. I mean, last sol you literally muttered ‘this would be a useful extra feature’ under your breath. C’mon, spill it.”

“Oh. Right.” She quickly shook her head before switching over to a different tab. “Halfway through the development process, I realized that it would also be useful for us to just display our coordinates on a map, so I added that too. Our maps suck, but I did it anyway.”

She gave Mark a moment to look over the map and her added coordinates. Scattered in one area of the map leading from Acidalia Planitia to their current position was a series of blue dots.

“The only hiccup in the design process was that I initially made all of the position dots red,” she quietly amended. “I mean, it worked well enough until I remembered that they’re sort of hard to see on a red planet.”

“Even when we’re not on Mars, intentionally make something red and I’ll fucking duct tape you to a wall,” Mark said as he tried to shake the mouse around on its little platform in the rover. “I’ve had enough red for one lifetime, and I think you have too.”

“Fair enough,” she said, still staring at the blue dots on screen. After spending so much time on a red planet in a white and grey Hab and rover, the color blue almost seemed hypnotic.

There was a momentary silence as the two of them stared at the screen.

“Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?” Mark asked.

Beth turned her face around towards him. “Wha… yeah, a few times over the years,” she replied. “Why are you asking?”

“I’ve never been there, and I’m just curious about how the two compare. And without a proper geologist on this planet, I guess you’re the resident canyon expert.”

That was an interesting addition to the random assortment of titles she had been gaining. Sysop, reactor technician, navigator, pirate queen, and now canyon expert. And probably Queen of Nerds, if she ever accidentally brought that one up again. Thinking back on a few of her memories, she supposed that the Grand Canyon never really felt empty. The occasional bush or two grew in sight of most of the viewing spots, and her two siblings meant that family noise wasn’t exactly hard to come by. Whereas Mars was truly and utterly empty.

The Grand Canyon was definitely way better than Mars.

“It’s less lonely back on Earth,” she replied, still gazing off into the distance. “At least you could see a bush or two whenever you looked around.”

“Mmm,” Mark grunting in agreement. “Sounds about right. But it’s also cool to know that this whole place was made in a mega-flood a few million years ago.”

Beth waited for Mark to turn towards her before mouthing ‘nerd’ in his general direction. Mark casually flipped her off, holding the gesture for a whopping two seconds before dropping it, letting out a low chuckle.

“Enjoy the canyon while we can,” he said, dragging the mouse into the map’s section of Arabia Terra. “Once we leave, we get to play a very fun game of driving around literally every crater while also trying not to get dust stormed.”

“Do we really have to drive around every crater?”

“Pretty much. We'll fuck up our driving range if we try driving into and out of a crater, and that’s not even mentioning the fact that the edges of the craters probably aren’t all that trustworthy for driving. Through the craters isn’t an option.”

Beth scoffed. The situation wasn’t really deadly, or life threatening for once, but it was just really, really inconvenient. Arabia Terra was absolutely speckled in craters.

“ It’s a shame then, ” she replied, only catching her accent once she said the words. “ Before the storm, I had a path that led us around the major craters, but I imagine that it’ll be scrapped so we can avoid the storm. ”

“Probably,” Mark said, smiling at her, probably due to her accent. “You gonna try making a new path?”

“ I suppose, ” she said, not bothering to clear away her accent. “ It can only help us now. ”

______________________________________________________________________________

“It’s Sol 465 on Mars,” Teddy said, standing in front of the map of Mars he had brought into the conference room. “At this rate, Johanssen and Watney will be entering the storm at around Sol 467.”

“Didn’t we know that already?” Annie asked, staring at the map as well.

“We have, but there’s been a minor disagreement in the routing.” Teddy pointed at a prominent crater on the map. “This is Trouvelot crater, one of the more prominent craters en route to Schiaparelli. We’ll be driving past it around Sol 467, so there’s been a bit of a disagreement about whether or not we should drive South before it to avoid the storm, or drive South after it so we can have access to flatter terrain.”

“And the conclusion?” Venkat asked.

“We’ll be turning South after Trouvelot,” Teddy said. “Johanssen raised a good point in that even if we turned South before Trouvelot, all of the craters we’d have to drive around might cost us more time.”

“And besides,” Mitch added. “The meteorology department checked in with the after Trouvelot plan. If they can stay on schedule, they should be fine.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “And if they don’t?”

“The only reason they wouldn’t drive for a sol is if the rover breaks,” Mitch asserted. “If that happens, we’ll have bigger problems. But Watney’s made it clear that the rover has been fine. We’ll cross that bridge if we ever get there.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 470

“I was wondering where you were,” Mark said as he climbed up the last few steps on the hill to meet up with Beth. It had been a while since their last EVA, so it was a nice change of pace from the usual sitting around in the rover, waiting for the batteries to recharge.

“Were you really?” she asked, her helmet turned towards him. “I was right next to you just a minute ago!”

“I was looking at a nearby crater,” he said as he finally got into position next to Beth. He let out a light wheeze.

“Are you tired already Mark?”

“Maybe a little,” he said, raising his hand to bend a few fingers. “These EVA suits aren’t exactly easy to move around in.”

He let out a throaty sound that almost echoed in his suit.

“I can’t wait until I have grandchildren,” he remarked, unconsciously smirking. “I can see them in my mind. ‘When I was younger, I had to climb up crater rims. In an EVA suit! On Mars, ya little shit! Ya hear me? Mars!’”

“I think you’re jumping the gun a little bit Mark,” she said with a smile probably hidden under her helmet. “We don’t even have kids at this point, and I can’t exactly say I’d let you say that around our hypothetical grandchildren...”

He gently thumped her shoulder with a fist. “C’mon, just once. It won’t even happen for another few decades!”

“Wow, decades,” Beth thoughtfully remarked. “It’s weird to think that we’ll need decades to get to grandchildren.”

“I mean, there ain’t exactly much we can do about it. Not unless you somehow add ‘extreme biology’ to your list of specialties.”

“Don’t tempt me Mark,” she playfully snarked back.

He looked up at the massive crater in front of them, taking in the view. Its sheer size was absolutely overwhelming. He had spent every sol before Sol 446 in Acidalia Planitia, and the only reason Beth wasn’t lumped in with him was due to the fact that she drove all the way to Pathfinder. Even if the crater in front of them, Crommelin crater, wasn’t quite as big as Trouvelot had been, but it was still a behemoth of a crater.

“Hey Beth, do you want to name something here after you?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Eh, not really,” she replied with a shrug. “Unlike you, I have self esteem, so I don’t need to run around naming things after me.”

“Do you really? Ms.‘Do I Deserve This Man Who Literally Confessed To Me’?”

Beth wheezed, going so far as to bend over a little.

“Touche Mark, but I still don’t want any craters named after me. Besides, all of the major craters already have names.”

“You just aren’t looking hard enough,” he insisted. “I mean, look at the Watney triangle!”

“A triangle we barely spent a sol in,” she shot back. “Are we really calling it the Watney triangle?”

“As the first colonists of Mars, I say we have every right to name anything on this planet,” he smugly replied.

Beth probably rolled her eyes.

“Keep dreaming Mark. Although, I am glad that we’ve finally managed to get ahead of the storm.”

“Yeah, and even nosy NASA’s fine with the storm now,” he remarked. “It’s basically just a straight shot East from here to Schiaparelli. We’ve even got a decent way in.”

“We do?”

“I poked around on the map, and there’s a few pixels of a decent ramp into Schiaparelli,” he said as he stretched his neck. “It’s even more or less on the side that we’re driving to. NASA’s checked it out, and from what they can tell, it’s good enough.”

“Wasn’t driving through the craters a bad idea?” she asked.

“It was, and still is, but we don’t have a choice,” he said, turning back to face the crater. “We can’t exactly enter the crater without entering the crater, you know?”

“Hmm,” Johanssen remarked, turning to stare at the crater before letting out a snort. “I guess that should have been obvious. Maybe I could have figured that one out by myself.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 483

The red slope stretching out in front of her almost felt like a trap. Even though it looked just like the rest of Mars, Beth still kept her shoulders taut. Her hand was wrapped gently around Mark’s, who was gently steering the rover down the ramp.

When they encountered the shallow ramp into Schiaparelli, Beth had made sure to wrap her hand around Mark’s just in case anything funny happened. Mark’s few warnings and NASA’s plentiful warnings about the red planet hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in her. In particular, NASA’s warning that not even their satellites were able to predict the best path due to the dust littering the whole planet’s surface stuck with her.

But still, the descent into the crater had been going more or less to plan. Mark had gently steered the two of them down the hill, while she did her best to try to identify the best path to drive along. It seemed to be going well.

At least, until she spied the front left wheel suddenly sinking into the ground.

She instinctively jerked the control joystick backwards as hard as she could in a quiet desperation. The wheel slowly rose out of the sand. For a moment, she thought that they were still fine. Even if the rover was now almost tilted fifteen degrees to the left, at least the rest of the ground was cooperating.

Then, as if on cue, the rover immediately surged to its left. A scream ripped its way out of her throat. Distantly, she heard a slam as Mark frantically threw an arm around her.

As quickly as it had started, the rover toppled right, almost tipping over in that direction instead. Beth clenched her teeth as she hoped that the rover would stabilize itself.

After tilting over twenty degrees to the right, the rover flopped down on the ground with a thud. She felt a few gentle shockwaves pulsing from the ground under her feet.

Mark turned to her, his pupils small. He leaned in closer. She did the same.

They tuned out the rest of the rover, instead focusing on each other’s warmth.

“Holy shit,” Mark eventually stated, letting out a shaky breath. “That was the solar system’s worst amusement park ride.”

She wheezed, wiping away a few stray tears in her eyes.

“Did… you catch what happened?” he asked, pulling her closer. “I don’t even know what that was.”

“The left wheel was sinking,” she explained, just a little breathless. “I pulled the controls backward so we could avoid the pit, but we almost rolled anyway.”

Mark gently stared at her, before turning towards the rover control panel. He cautiously pointed a finger at the panel.

“Is that why we didn’t tip?” he asked, his voice still shaky.

Beth turned, and saw one of her own hands slammed into a bright yellow button. The rover decoupling button.

She cautiously bunched her hand up into a ball, only then noticing that it felt sore on the side pressing into the button.

“Yeah,” she said, tired from not even a minute of terror. “I guess I instinctively decoupled the trailer, and that’s why we rocked to the right.”

Mark stared at her as concern quickly appeared on his face.

“Then happened to the trailer!?”

Her own eyes went wide. She gasped.

“I...”

She clenched her teeth.

“We need to get outside. Now.”

The two of them quickly got into their EVA suits and left through the airlock. Immediately, lying in front of them, was the answer to what had happened to the trailer.

Once the ground under half of its wheels suddenly collapsed, the entire trailer had rolled over onto its roof. Solar panels littered the ground around the trailer like scattered leaves. However, Beth was more concerned with a shape just beyond the trailer.

Pathfinder.

She quickly skipped around the rover, but it didn’t take her long to realize that the probe was far beyond repair. The transmission dish had broken into three checkered pieces scattered around the rest of the probe, and the auxiliary antenna sat on the ground, cleanly snapped off of Pathfinder.

Beth gently lifted the main body of the probe, hoping that something had stayed intact. But once half of the circuit board limply fell out of the rest of the probe, she sighed, lowering it back down.

It was certainly, absolutely, utterly broken.

She felt a hand gently press down on her shoulder, and she turned to see that it was Mark.

“Hey,” he replied, his usual snark nowhere to be seen. He stepped forward to throw an arm around her.

“You did the right thing,” he stated before taking a gentle breath. “If you didn’t decouple the rovers, we would have tipped. We were three sols away from the Ares 4 MAV, which has its own modern communications system. We still have twelve sols of oxygen. NASA has given us instructions for when the rovers flip. We’ve lost contact before. We’ll still be fine.”

She sniffled, kneeling in the dirt with her palms down. Mark’s comments spun around in her head, and she did her best to try to pull herself together. Mark lowered himself down to her level.

“Also, the trailer didn’t breach,” he assured, his helmet facing the bottom of the rover. “Nothing was depressurized, we’ve only run into a minor inconvenience. This won’t even matter in a few sols.”

It didn’t feel like that.

Mark quietly squeezed her shoulder just a little bit more tightly, and she let out a tired sigh.

She quickly got up, carefully hoisting Watney up with her. “Sorry about that,” she apologized. “Just… this sucks.”

Mark snorted without any of his usual humor. “I know. Right when we thought Mars was getting nicer...”

“NASA’s gonna be worried,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than expected. “We should spell out a message for them. At least they told us to use Morse code.”

“You can spell out the message, I’ll get to digging the hole,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Who’d have thought that the shovel would come in handy again?”

“You still have the shovel?” she asked, only a little confused. After over 400 sols of not using it, she had expected Mark to have dismantled it by now.

“‘Course I do,” he said, walking over to the airlock again. “I think Mars has taught us both that resourcefulness comes in handy.”

“Guess it has.”

She looked across the vast expanse of Schiaparelli crater, and saw a couple of rocks scattered here and there. It wasn’t quite as rocky as she knew Mars could get, but it was still enough for what she needed to do.

“I’ll get to that message,” she said as she walked towards the nearest rock, a short flat stone on her left.

“And I’ll get the shovel,” he said as she heard the familiar sound of the airlock opening. “It’ll probably suck and I’ll get super sore, but I’m sure I’ll still figure out how to dig it.”

She could already see his shit eating grin in her mind. A scowl would have been an appropriate response, but she was already a few dozen meters away, Mark was inside the rover airlock, and was still just a little tired.

“Make another pun like that and I’ll break out the disco,” she jokingly threatened, unconsciously putting on a gentle grin.

Mark snorted before segwaying into a light laugh.

“Glad to have you back Beth.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“What happened down there?” Venkat asked, looking at Mindy as she slouched in her chair.

“Well, their message reads ‘TRAILER TIPPED, PF BROKEN, BUT OK’,” she explained, gesturing to the array of rocks on her screen. “And that’s basically all of the rocks in the area.”

“Is there anything you can see with the satellites?”

“Nah, it’s not like we put cameras on all of the satellites,” she dryly replied with a grin.

Venkat didn’t laugh.

She huffed. “The rover didn’t flip, just the trailer. The connection could have snapped, they could have detached it so it didn’t flip with the trailer, who knows what could have happened. There aren’t any signs of spillage either from air leaking into the surroundings or debris spilling out of the rovers, so we can also rule out depressurization. One person’s digging a hole in front of the trailer, and the other one gave us the message, so both of them are probably unharmed as well. The only issue is that Pathfinder broke. And, well, they’re also digging a hole. Do you know what that’s about?”

“It’s a contingency plan,” Venkat said, squinting at the picture of the hole. “The two of them can pull the trailer into the hole, causing it to flip back up.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Venkat squinted at a patch of debris scattered around the trailer before pointing a finger at it. “Is that Pathfinder?”

“What’s left of it, I think.” Mindy gave him a loose shrug. “You can sort of see the pieces of the main antenna, and it does seem to be about the right size. Even from orbit, it looks pretty broken.”

“So communications are pretty much disabled?”

“Completely,” she corrected. “We literally don’t have a signal that can reach them without Pathfinder. I thought you’d have known that.”

Venkat blinked, giving his head a short shake. “Right. Well, I suppose Pathfinder breaking now is still fine. It’s not optimal, but it’s fine. They are only three sols of driving away from the Ares 4 MAV.”

“Yep. We just need to wait for them.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 484

“Hey!” Mark exclaimed, waiting for Beth to look up.

“Hmm?”

“I think I found a good one!” he said as he extended his arm, showing the sysop a rock.

“Keyword there being ‘think’,” she said with a huff. “You aren’t exactly a geologist, so I don’t think you know what to look for in a rock.”

“It’s pointy!”

Beth tilted her head and he got the impression that she was not amused.

“Fascinating,” she deadpanned, running a hand over the rock. “You have discovered pointiness...”

Mark hoisted the rock back towards his chest.

“Well, I still think it’s cool, so I’m keeping it. I’m taking it back to the rover.”

Beth snickered. “You know there’s no way we can take any of these samples back with us, right? We need to minimize launch mass, otherwise we won’t make it to the Hermes at all.”

“Eh, a man can hope,” he said as he walked over to the airlock. “NASA might eventually send a probe to collect these samples. Who knows?”

With a huff, Beth followed him into the rover. He quickly deposited his rock into a sample container, and the two of them quickly hopped over to the driver’s seat. Once there, he took a quick moment to look at the recently reestablished reverse camera. Not so proudly on display was the trailer, still lying on its side with the solar panels and makeshift solar panel trailer sitting off to the side. The one solar panel that broke in the accident sat on the opposite side, on its own. Just in front of the trailer was the hole that they had spent the last and current sols on digging.

Mark sighed. “God, just looking at the damn hole makes me sore.”

Beth arched an eye.

“You think you’re sore? You were the one who had a shovel! I was digging with my hands!”

“I know, it still sucked,” he muttered. “It also set us back a solid sol, probably two.”

“But once we right the trailer, we can try reactivating the oxygenator in order to extend our oxygen supply by a few sols. It’ll even be a nice test to confirm that it still works,” she tentatively suggested.

“Hmm,” Mark agreed, carefully cradling the control stick in his hand.

He took the opportunity to blink, and Beth carefully wrapped her hand around his.

“Hey, why do you wrap your hand around mine?” he asked, staring at the joystick. “You have small hands.”

“I trust your driving skills more,” she insisted, gripping his hand just a little bit more tightly. “Also, you always get into the driver’s seat first, so that more or less means you're the designated driver.”

“Well then, are you ready to go?”

Beth gently bit her own tongue before giving him a solid nod.

“Go for it.”

Mark gently coaxed the steering stick forward, and the whole rover moved forward as well. There was definitely more friction than usual due to the fact that the trailer wasn’t on its wheels, but the whole assembly still moved. He was prepared to stop in case the trailer popped, the ground gave out again, or for anything, really.

So it was a hell of a relief when the trailer landed in the hole, twisting 90 degrees before landing squarely on its wheels as it kicked up a sizable dust cloud.

He let go of the control stick, and Beth removed her hand entirely. He was just a little dumbstruck that the whole plan actually worked.

“Huh,” she stated, still staring at the camera display. “That actually worked.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” he admitted, staring at the display with her. “That was easy.”

“But, of course, we aren’t done yet, are we?”

“Yeah, nope,” he confirmed. “Not only do we have to run diagnostics on everything in the trailer, we also have to reinspect the heat reservoir too.”

Beth’s eyes carefully darted towards him.

“By the way, have you ever properly covered the heat reservoir, or has all of the water spilled out by now?”

“I… shit,” he remarked. “No, I thought we’d be smart enough to not tip the box of plutonium’s heat reservoir upside down. But apparently, I forgot how much of a bitch Mars could be when I made that decision.”

Beth stuck her tongue out at him. He silently countered by giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

He enjoyed the sysop’s momentary frozen flustered expression.

“Um… so, uh, we have to run some more system diagnostics and fix the heat reservoir,” Beth said as her cheeks brightened. “Is that it?”

“Basically,” he said, as he stared at a certain area of the camera display. In particular, where the remnants of Pathfinder sat.

Beth stared at his face before turning to face the display as well.

“Ah,” she stated, turning her face towards Pathfinder as well. “It was a good probe. Do you still want to take it with us?”

“Absol-fucking-lutely. We should figure out how to give a Viking burial to Pathfinder, or something like that,” he said with a hint of wistfulness. “Completed its whole mission, worked once we gave it a bit of elbow grease, and even survived us dropping it. Screw Opportunity, Pathfinder worked until the trailer barrel rolled over it!”

Beth snickered a little.

“Come on, don’t insult Opportunity like that. I mean, fourteen operational years on Mars is something even we haven’t done.”

“Hmm...” Mark quickly shifted his focus away from the camera and towards the map of Mars, displayed an adjacent screen. “You know, Opportunity isn’t actually that far away. I mean, we could get there in less than ten sols if we wanted to.”

“When we’re three sols away from the Ares 4 MAV?” she asked, looking at the map with him. 

“Make that four.” Mark casually clasped his hands together. “I think we can both agree that this damn hill is a really bad place to be driving. We should dial down our 25 kph driving speed to 5 kph, at least for tomorrow.”

“Hmm, fair enough, 5 kph for tomorrow it is,” she conceded. “That still doesn’t change the fact that we’d have to drive in the opposite direction of the MAV in order to get to Opportunity. Come on Mark, I think one vandalized historical site is more than enough.”

“Heh. Well, it’s almost like we’re space pirates.”

Once the words left his lips, realization struck him. His eyes went wide and his grin slowly became a shit eating grin.

“Uh, Mark?”

“We’re fucking space pirates.”

Johanssen flinched, shaking just a little before propping herself up with an arm.

“I… what?”

“NASA never gave us permission to take over the Ares 4 MAV,” he began, still grinning brightly. “They told us to ‘get ready’ and to ‘start driving’, but they never explicitly stated that we could take over the MAV. Now that Pathfinder’s busted, they can’t.”

Realization dawned on Beth’s face.

“So that means...”

“We’re taking the MAV without their permission. Which makes us space pirates,” he finished, pointing two finger guns at her for extra effect.

Beth gaped at him, clearly dumbstruck.

“Oh. My. God...” she said as she dragged a hand down her own face. “You were hoping for this, weren’t you?”

He dialed back his smile from a shit eating one to a more sheepish expression.

“Not gonna lie, if I could have had anything a few sols ago, I’d have asked for an excuse to be a space pirate.”

The sysop shot him a pointed expression.

“Really? Not to get off of Mars?”

“Okay, out of all of the reasonable possibilities,” he admitted. “If I could really have anything, I’d ask for the green-skinned yet beautiful Queen of Mars to rescue us...”

Beth sharpened her expression towards him.

He threw his hands up in defense. “Hey, what’s that for?”

“What’s that for?” she parroted back to him as she rolled her eyes, following it with a wheeze. “I mean, as your girlfriend, I’m not exactly sure how to feel about you wishing for a Martian Queen to come and rescue us...”

Mark snorted. “Well, sure, but I’d try to teach her a little thing called ‘lovemaking’, so...”

Beth pulled her face back gently, taking the opportunity to blink. Once she opened her eyes again, she winked at him.

“I mean, you could always try that out with me, right?”

He felt a rush of blood pulse through his body as his cheeks glowed red.

“Uh… Beth?” he asked as her cheeks began to glow red too. “Are you actually asking me for…”

“Maybe?” she answered, her own eyes darting around the interior of the rover. “I mean, if you want it, I sort of want it too, so, maybe...”

The conversation ended in silence, mostly because he could barely string together a proper response.

“Fuck,” he muttered, now staring at the floor. “Not gonna lie, I want to. You’re hot, this relationship has been working, I think I’m just a little desperate by now, it’s the perfect fucking storm.”

“Also, I will say that my IUD still works,” she quietly added while still blushing. “While we didn’t really have much medical equipment back at the Hab, we still had enough for me to check my hormone levels, and they’re fine. The only concern I will raise is that this will be a hell of a clusterfuck if it ever gets out.”

Mark thought about that point for a moment, before mentally going ‘fuck it’.

“Honestly, let’s just not tell anyone,” he suggested. “It’s not like anyone can actually spy on us from Earth. Not to mention, I can almost guarantee you that people are going to think that we did the deed, even if we didn’t. Perks of being two people stranded on Mars together, I guess. We do it, and just make sure not to tell anyone. Capiche?”

Beth’s cheeks glowed even brighter, and he felt his own glowing again as well.

“I… I’ll decide tonight, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 488

“Do you see it?”

“Mark, I think you’ll see it when I see it. You can see exactly what I can see!”

“Wait a minute, I almost forgot how short you were! Scratch my last comment, I’ll tell you when I see it, okay?”

Beth aggressively snorted before turning back towards the front of the rover. The MAV was close. NASA had activated the MAV’s signal, which meant that they were able to drive directly towards it, even if it wasn’t visible. The first blip had caught the two of them by surprise, but by now the blips had turned into a steady signal from the East.

As she looked over the whole horizon once more, she finally spied a pointed object to their left. She pointed a finger at it.

“There!”

“Holy shit, it’s actually there!” Mark added, clearly surprised. “We made it!”

“Well, I suppose we haven’t technically made it,” she said, still smiling. We still have another few kilometers to go.

Mark scoffed. “I think by now a few kilometers is basically a rounding error,” he smugly retorted.

“Hey, be careful Mark. You never know what curveball Mars might throw at us next.”

Mark lifted his head a little. “Well, I don’t see any stray meteors threatening to crash into us, so I think we’re in the clear. For now at least. We’ll take whatever the fuck happens when we get to the MAV.”

The rest of the drive had been more or less silent. Mark had driven the rover until it was about twenty meters away from the MAV before pressing down on the brakes.

For one moment, as Mark parked the rover, the two of them were silent.

Then, Mark energetically fist pumped the air, maniacally screeching, and Beth couldn’t help but join him in celebrating. Their cheers bounced around in the rover as the two of them did their best to jump around as well.

“Holy shit, we did it!” he exclaimed while almost bumping into the ceiling.

“We did it!” she reiterated, taking the opportunity to wrap an arm around the botanist.

They both embraced each other in an initially gentle kiss that quickly morphed into a second, aggressive kiss. Two kisses became three, and by the fourth Beth was almost worried about whether or not Mark would respect her shirt.

But after the fourth kiss, Mark finally dialed himself back a little. Carefully backing away from her, Mark walked over to the EVA suits, suited up with Beth, and led her out of the airlock and towards the MAV. Its pristine surface glimmering in the sun was a wonderful contrast to the now dull grey of most of their NASA supplies.

Mark walked up to the MAV and hugged one of the landing struts, to which Beth gave him a light chuckle.

“Mark, I think your engineer is showing,” she said with a smirk.

“Nah, I’m just fucking glad we’re here,” he insisted, still wrapped around the landing strut. “This bad boy’s our ticket off of the planet, and for the first time in fucking forever we actually have new equipment to use!”

“Well, we should probably get into the MAV,” she suggested, gesturing to the airlock. “NASA probably wants us to confirm that we can talk to them again.”

Mark snorted before pulling himself away from the strut.

“Funny. We pirate NASA’s MAV and the first thing we do with it is tell them we stole it.”

“Well, you can try to play lone wolf for as long as you can, but we need their help. It’s not like you can make all of the MAV adjustments by yourself.”

“Eh, I can try,” he said as he pressed the MAV airlock controls. “We’ll probably use electrolysis on the water before feeding the hydrogen to the MAV, and we’ll probably rip out the extra seats too. After that? Eh, I think I could make an educated guess.”

“As much as I trust you Mark, NASA actually knows how much mass we'll need to get rid of,” she said as she watched the airlock open and the ladder extend. “Not to mention, they actually have the numbers for how fast the Hermes will be flying past Mars.”

Mark sighed. “Well, you got me there...”

Beth, with one hand still on the ladder, used her remaining hand to gesture at Mark to follow her. Once she had gotten his attention, he followed her carefully up the ladder and into the MAV.

“We’re almost home free,” Mark stated as he closed the airlock and repressurized the MAV. He realized that he meant it. “We’re actually almost home free!”

“I guess we are,” Beth agreed, carefully pulling off her own helmet. “But Mark, don’t forget that we’re going to be ripping apart the MAV in a bit. We still have all of that to do, so don't get too ahead of yourself.”

“Oh. Right.” Mark casually pulled off his own helmet before setting it aside. “But we’ve still got this. You know why?”

She turned to him, and he was greeted with a smile on her lips.

“I dunno, why?”

“I’m the best engineer on this damn planet, and you're the sharpest nerd on the planet,” he said with a grin that matched hers. “Mars can go fuck itself.”

She smiled before giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Text

SOL 488

MAV: Houston, do you copy?

HOUSTON: Loud and clear! You two gave us quite a bit of a scare back on Sol 483. How are your systems?

MAV: The atmospheric regulator has been operating since we left Acidalia Planitia, and continues to perform admirably. Furthermore, while the oxygenator was unpowered for the majority of the trip, a quick test on Sol 484 proved that it was still functional. As we speak, it is slowly working its way through our CO2 reserves. The water reclaimer is as of yet untested, but even if it no longer works, our water supply is still plentiful. The rest of the equipment is naturally being worn down, but Sol 549 still seems to be doable.

HOUSTON: Wonderful. The Hermes is still on track for its Sol 549 flyby, but, as you both know, we need to modify the MAV in order for you two to reach the Hermes. Do you two still have your excess urine?

MAV: Indeed. It’s currently stored in a large container, and we plan on electrolyzing it in order to feed it to the MAV’s fuel plant. Should we get started with that?

HOUSTON: No, wait for our instructions. We’ve been working on a streamlined way of electrolyzing the hydrogen, and that will be sent along with the rest of what you need to do. Moreover, leave the rover’s radio on, as we can contact it via the MAV.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Venkat gave Bruce a moment to settle into his chair, and momentarily wondered whether or not he had made the right call. The other man did seem to be on the verge of falling asleep.

“Bruce, are you there?” Venkat asked, resisting the urge to try and snap in front of Bruce’s face.

Bruce’s eyes fluttered awake as he propped himself up on the arm of the chair.

“I’m up,” Bruce groggily muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Go on.”

The director of JPL paused for a moment before slowly reaching down and opening his briefcase, talking while he fumbled through its contents.

“Before we start, I just want to highlight the fact that we had to make some difficult decisions. Low Mars orbit only requires 4.1 kps, but the Hermes flyby is at a whopping 5.8 kps. Add in the fact that the MAV leaves most of its dead weight on Mars with the fuel plant, and you’re pretty much cornered.”

“Of course. You’ve had the best of the best working on this, so I’ll trust your professionals.”

Bruce’s hands finally stopped rummaging around in his suitcase as he pulled out a small booklet and handed it to Venkat. As Venkat turned it in his hand, he silently studied what appeared to be a MAV schematic on the front cover.

“A little something we’ll be handing out to the various departments so we’ll all be on the same page,” Bruce explained, also staring at the document. “The first thing we’ll be doing is adding fuel. Johanssen and Watney have almost 900 liters of water with them. That can become 96 kilograms of hydrogen, or 1,250 kilograms of fuel. They’ll electrolyze it in stages so they still have something to drink.”

“And the refinery time?” Venkat asked, flipping through the front pages of the booklet.

“Thirty five sols,” Bruce stated, staring at Venkat with a knowing expression as he flipped onto a page with the aforementioned thirty five sols. “The chemistry department suggests that it’ll take thirty five sols at most, and that’s ignoring the fact that the MAV has been refining its fuel faster than expected. With over sixty sols before the flyby, we’ll be fine.”

Venkat’s eyes cautiously stared at both Bruce and the booklet.

“Is there a way to, I don’t know, quantify how much we’ll gain from this?”

“There is. If you’ll just look over here...” Bruce flipped the page for Venkat before pointing at the 12,600 written on it. “The MAV’s launch weight is over 12,600 kilograms. The extra fuel gives us 490 kilograms of extra mass to work with, but we still need to reduce its launch mass to under 7,110 kilograms, including the extra fuel. That’s in the rest of the booklet.”

Venkat flipped to the next page on his own. “I can see that we’ll be carrying only two acceleration chairs while also removing all of the nonessentials.”

“Yeah, no samples, med kit, or anything,” Bruce confirmed. “We ran through a possibility where we only have one acceleration chair, but the medical department vetoed it. The acceleration during the launch is going to be ridiculous.”

“Mmm, fair enough,” Venkat said, quickly looking over the rest of the page. “As long as this works.”

“Oh, ‘works’ is definitely a little subjective,” Bruce said with a hint of a wince. “Next, we’ll be ditching all of the life support. Johanssen and Watney both need their EVA suits in order to get to the Hermes, so it’s almost dead weight at this point. They’ll pull all of that stuff out, and also yank out three of the five batteries and the auxiliary power system. Since they’ll be in their EVA suits, Martinez will remotely pilot the ship.”

“Sounds… good,” Venkat stated, closing the booklet to instead pay attention to Bruce. “At least, as good as our current situation can be. If the launch somehow misses, waiting in space isn’t going to help them. Sol 549 is the make it or break it day.”

“You might want to tell that to Annie,” Bruce pointed out. “She might need a bit of help with releasing all of this.”

“Is that not all of it?”

“Not even close,” Bruce said with what Venkat assumed to be something approaching a vigorous head shake. “We basically have to pull out all of the back up systems as well. We’ll lose three redundant thrusters on the OMS, the secondary and tertiary comms systems, the auxiliary fuel pump, and a Stage One engine.”

Venkat gaped at Bruce, and Bruce just looked back at him with a tired, resigned expression.

“Before you ask, if the primary comms black out, the reacquisition time is so long that the launch will be a failure even if we left the secondary and tertiary comms on. We don’t really need the OMS for thrust, the auxiliary fuel pump just weighs too much for its usefulness, and the lower stage still works without one engine. Pretty good fuel savings too.”

Venkat cautiously bit his own tongue before taking in a slow breath. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what if we remove more than one engine? Could that fix the acceleration issues you alluded to earlier?”

“While possible, it’s a really bad idea,” Bruce explained. “Removing two or more of the engines ropes us into thrust balancing issues on the first stage, as well as a hellish amount of rewiring. It wouldn’t even solve the g-force issue, as the max g-force is experienced at the end of the second stage. But still, the alternative is barely any better.”

“And that is?”

“Taking off the nose airlock, the windows, Hull Panel Nineteen, and the back panel of the pressure vessel. We’ll Hab canvas what we need to.”

Venkat blinked, just a little dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry, but I thought I just heard you propose launching into orbit with a hole covered with Hab canvas.”

“Believe it or not, this is the most necessary part of the modifications,” Bruce matter of factly stated. “The fuel savings here are tremendous, and since most of those components are attached to each other, we might as well pull them all off. It’s better fuel savings than we could possibly hope for with removing Stage One Engines.”

Venkat paused. Naturally, he was rather concerned with this turn of events, but he had a feeling Johanssen and Watney would be even more concerned. As a side thought, he quietly opened the booklet once more and flipped towards the back page, eyeing up one line in particular.

“The odds of failure are around four percent?” he almost exclaimed.

“It’s under ten, and if you were at the simulations, you’d be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Venkat deadpanned.

______________________________________________________________________________

MAV: Watney and I have finished reading the procedures. Needless to say, we’re somewhat concerned. Excuse my French, but these procedures have Watney removing a Stage One Engine and both of us launching in an unpressurized cockpit. This somehow looks like a more extreme version of Kerbal Space Program, which certainly indicates how extreme these plans are.

HOUSTON: To be fair, you two are astronauts. Exploring other planets and flying into orbit should be reasonable for you two.

MAV: Watney here, just saying. I get the feeling that the part where hapless kerbals are launched on command seats at 12 G’s wasn’t supposed to be recreated.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Seriously though, is NASA shitting us?” Mark asked, reading over the instructions one more time. 

NASA had helpfully divided the instructions into four relatively concise parts, and he more or less agreed with the first two. Yeah, sure, he might need to fix a leak on a ship with a massive hole on top of it, but the details had been ones he’d more or less expected. The third and fourth parts were just batshit insanity.

Beth leaned on a nearby acceleration chair, intently staring towards into space.

“Honestly, most of these changes are fine,” she said with a one armed shrug. “Life support will be a waste if we’ll wear our EVA suits, and we’ve been working without backups for a few hundred sols at this point.”

Mark let out a throaty groan, dramatically rolling his eyes as well.

“This is fucking nuts,” he stated, staring Beth in the eye. “Like, more nuts than using the RTG and the hydrazine combined.”

“Care to elaborate?” she asked, casually tilting her head.

Mark paused, mainly because he wasn’t quite sure whether to start with the removed Stage One Engine or Hull Panel Nineteen.

“I… we’re launching into orbit with a fucking hole in our ship. Dare I say more?”

“Probably. The atmospheric pressure here on Mars is not even 1 percent of Earth’s, so it’s not like there’s much air drag to mess with us. It’s almost like we’re launching off of the Moon.”

Beth stared back at him with an arched eye, and Mark gave his best ‘this is fucking insane’ look. She didn’t flinch, but Mark had suspected that she had grown used to seeing that particular face over the course of their stay on Mars.

Mark squinted at her. “Fine. Then I should probably mention the fact that NASA has me fucking with the Stage One engines.”

“Are you really concerned about that? Aren’t you the best engineer on the planet?”

For extra effect, Mark crossed his arms with a huff. Beth finally sighed.

“Yeah, this is nuts. I understand.” Beth tilted her head down towards the ground. “I was just trying not to think about it.”

“I get that, but we should at least acknowledge the fact that this is insane, you know?”

Even while she was staring at the floor, Mark still saw Beth’s face scrunch up.

“One problem at a time, I guess,” she stated with conviction as she raised her face. “We solve the pieces one problem at a time, and we’ll be done before we know it.”

“Exactly.” Mark pointed a finger gun at her, which he held for good measure. “First, NASA’s going to have us electrolyze our spare water so we can give it to the MAV.”

“Mark, you don’t need to repeat that part,” she said, stepping away from the acceleration chair. “I mean, it was the first part of the instructions.”

He snorted. “Someone’s being a sassy nerd today.”

“Someone’s going to have to carry the hydrogen tank by themselves,” she replied as a smile crept onto her face.

He wheezed, taking a moment to grasp his own face.

“Chop chop, Watney,” Beth said with two short claps. “The water isn’t going to electrolyze itself!”

______________________________________________________________________________

MISSION DAY 633

“Commander, permission to take five?”

“By now? Of course. Apologies for the late night.“

“Nah, I wanted to do this myself. Not like I was going to get better without this extra practice.”

Beck trudged around the corner to see Martinez and the commander standing next to Martinez’ station, now repurposed into the MAV simulator.

The commander perked up once she saw him. “Ah, there you are, Beck. How’s the life support doing?”

“The good news is that it’s in the best condition it’s been in two months,” he said with just a hint of frustration.  “The bad news is that it took the whole day because there was a complication with one of the filters almost failing completely. It looks fine for now, but that’s one more thing to keep an eye on.”

Vogel quietly got up from his station as the MAV simulator turned off. “The reactor?”

“I didn’t get the chance to look at it much, but the numbers seem to be in the range you gave me. However, I’d really appreciate it if you looked at it yourself.”

Vogel gave him a thumbs up before quietly leaving. Martinez took the opportunity to finally gently rock his way out of his seat.

“Now, how have the simulations been?” Beck asked, shaking his head in a last ditch attempt to keep himself alert.

“Just a bit of a headache,” Martinez half mumbled as he pushed his chair in. “I practiced a little with the original MAV simulation, but NASA really dismantled the damn thing.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I dunno, do you think ripping out an engine and adding a hole to the top of the MAV would change its aerodynamics?”

Beck let out a throaty sound, which he drew out into a garbled noise.

“Seriously?”

“Ah, I suppose we never told you what NASA actually ordered,” the commander said, keeping an eye on both him and Martinez. “Believe me, we were all surprised when NASA gave us their recommended MAV modifications along with the simulation.”

“I wasn’t,” Martinez swiftly added. “I mean, with an engineer like Watney on the planet, it makes sense that they’d be a little ambitious with their plans.”

Beck felt his medical instincts flare up a little.

“Uh, what’s the acceleration for this launch?”

“Something you aren’t going to like, Beck.” The commander twisted her head over toward the simulation station before turning to face him directly. “12 g’s. NASA’s estimate and the numbers we’ve been getting from the simulations both point towards 12 g’s.”

“The wha-!” Beck cut himself off once he realized he didn’t have a proper response together. But still, he knew that 12 g’s combined with malnutrition was undoubtedly a horrible, horrible idea. He almost felt like he was going to topple over.

Once he gained enough composure to stare at them again, he slowly clasped his own hands together.

“Is there… any way you could reduce the acceleration?”

“Not really,” Martinez said with a wry grin. “While I can reduce the thrust a little, the engines can barely throttle down to 67 percent of their maximum thrust by design. That’s not even mentioning the fact that we got most of the fuel savings from pulling out all of the dry mass from the MAV.”

Beck hissed.

“That’s bad,” he said through clenched teeth. “12 g’s isn’t necessarily fatal, especially for Johanssen and Watney, but after a year and a half of near starvation? It’ll be hell on them both.”

“Beck, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Martinez held his wince. “If there’s someone who knows how much 10+ g’s sucks, it’s me.”

Beck roughly exhaled. If there was a thought that almost scared him, it was probably that the medical department back on Earth actually agreed to this plan. Then he was rudely derailed by the fact that even if NASA figured that out a hundred days before the Mars encounter, there was basically nothing they could do at this point to avoid using the MAV.

The commander subtly cleared her throat, and he broke his own train of thought. 

“Sorry for the situation, Beck” the commander apologized. “Believe me when I say that Venkat seemed just as worried as you do. But, on a more positive note, care to share with us your recovery plans?”

“214 meters, 10 meters per second,” he stated, doing his best to talk and think about the MAV launch itself. That’s everything the MMU can do along with the maximum length of all of the tethers combined. Along with my grabbing speed, I give us 20 meters per second of relative velocity at maximum.”

“Still, we have a fair bit of leeway. Not only do we have the ion engine and forty minutes for corrections, but Martinez also offered using the attitude thrusters as a last resort.”

“And 214 meters isn’t a hard limit.”

“It is,” the commander asserted.

“Actually, it’s not like I really need the tether in order to-”

“Don’t you dare.” The commander sharply stared him in the eye. “Two crewmates in danger is bad enough right now, we don’t need three.”

He stared back at the commander, and part of him wanted to speak up. Even despite his own NASA instincts yelling at him to follow her, the thought that this was about Johanssen was more than enough to balance it out. The only conclusion he arrived at was that he was too tired to have a decent crisis of conscience.

He loudly yawned, abruptly breaking the tension in the room. The commander let out a short breath.

“I suppose it has been a long day for you,” she said as she softened her own expression. “Why don’t you go retire for the night?”

“I know you weren’t talking to me, but I’ll take that as permission for me too,” Martinez said as he stepped toward the hall. “And Beck, now might be the time to go take a nap before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Loud and clear,” he said as he held back another yawn. “At the very least, there are a few published papers about g-forces that I should pull up.”

“That’s a funny way to say you’re going to sleep,” Martinez snarked.

As Beck gave the commander a gentle nod and followed Martinez, he already knew he probably wasn’t going to last ten more minutes awake.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Doc, are you sure?”

Beck’s eyes snapped open, and he was greeted with a site that was definitely not the Hermes. Or anywhere he’d been in the past decade, for that matter.

It was really a massive room. This living room in particular had always felt absolutely massive whenever he was in it, probably because of the two twins who always made sure to run around every inch of it. Despite the walls sporting a dull shade of white, the plethora of legos that scattered the floor and the thick, tan carpet gave it a rather homely feel. The gentle background noise from the TV, playing whatever child’s cartoon was on were also soothing. It was barely cohesive, but then again, it wasn’t like he had been paying attention to that when he made this memory.

In front of him, two six years old intently stared back at him, decked out in khakis and t-shirts with hands full of legos. 

He silently bent his own hand up, and confirmed that he was in fact six years old as well. Definitely that memory.

“Of course I’m sure!” he insisted with just a touch of reminiscence. He knew the rest of the lines by heart.

Crystal tilted her head with a mix of concern and confusion. “But, I dunno, what if we mess up? What if we’re not there to protect her?”

“You can’t protect her forever, accept that,” biting back an ironic laugh. “She’s eventually going to grow up, and you’ll have to let her go then.”

William cautiously cleared his throat, slowly lowering his pile of legos to the floor as well. “ Well… you are correct, but I can’t help but worry about her. What if she needs our help when we can’t be there for her?”

“Will, if she’s anything like you and Crystal, then I’m a hundred percent sure that she’ll be fine.” It was always odd to look back at that line. His own assurance not to worry, despite the fact that he had gone to medical school, where that was almost his job.

The two Johanssen twins looked at each other before looking back at him with concern.

“ But still. I can’t help but worry. Even with your assurance, dear Doctor, ” William admitted.

“Doc, I can’t either.”

“Trust me, even if she still isn’t here yet, I know she’ll be fine!” Beck braced himself for the line he knew was coming.

Crystal stared down into her pile of legos.

“In that case Doc, could you make a promise?”

“Uh… sure,” he stated, with an air of hesitation that he could barely mimic. “What’s it about?”

“Just… promise me. Promise both of us that you’ll be there to help her. Just in case we can’t. I think I’d sleep a little better at night if you did.”

“ I… actually would appreciate you accepting this promise Doctor. ”

“Okay,” he stated, knowing that the real promise was coming.

“No, not just ‘okay’,” Crystal asserted, shaking in place. “Be serious Doc. For real. I’m worried about her, and I really, really want to know that she’ll be fine. Please, promise from the bottom of your heart. Can you promise that you’ll protect our little sister?”

Like always, he took the opportunity to reflect. And in wake of Sol 6, that line had felt hellishly painful.

“Please?”

The last part pushed him into his answer.

“I promise.”

Both of them looked up, slowly giving him gentle smiles.

“YOU. LIAR.”

That voice wasn’t Crystal’s. Or William’s. Or Watney’s or Johanssen’s, or anyone’s, to be honest. If anything, it only sounded like a raspy version of his own.

The memory shattered. The scattered legos gave way to red sand. The light gave way to what seemed like an unending night. The TV noise morphed into howling winds.

Mars. This was definitely Mars.

Turning his head in his now adult body around, he saw them. Johanssen and Watney, shambling on next to each other in the hellish storm. His own EVA headlights waxed and waned in strength as he hobbled through the storm.

“YOU. FAILURE.”

He opened his mouth to scream, only for no sound to come out. He tried to stop, but he couldn’t control his body. It was like he was a puppet.

The MDV slammed into Johanssen and Watney without so much as a warning. The world shifted again.

“DON’T. YOU. REMEMBER?”

As the dusty Martian terrain seemed to be swept away and replaced by sterilized hospital walls, Beck clenched his eyes shut. Not here. Not again.

“Doc, that doesn’t look good. Is she...” little Crystal said from his right. He squeezed his own eyelids shut even harder.

“No. No, no, no...”

“REMEMBER.”

Against his will, his eyelids shot open. He looked up.

The nearest wall held a massive glass window that displayed an operating room. He had seen plenty of those, but this one in particular always made his own skin crawl. Whether it was the lighting or just the lingering thought of what happened here, Beck didn’t know.

His eyes drifted downward, and even though he barely caught a glimpse of it, he still saw it.

There was no mistaking it. The limb hands. The pale skin. The complete lack of movement. But what always freaked him out was the momentary flash of her cold, dead face.

He opened his mouth to scream, and the dream dissipated into smoke.

As he abruptly drew back into consciousness, he bit back his scream, making a garbled noise as his throat quickly grew sore. He immediately pulled himself out of bed.

Beck just let his legs carry him away. He didn’t care where he ended up, he just had to move. After a blur of floating and skipping across half of the ship, he arrived at the bridge, where the commander turned to give him a raised brow.

“Beck, what are you-”

He let out a messy exhale, and he immediately felt bad for interrupting the commander. She softened her arched brow.

“Beck...”

“Sorry commander,” he said, now feeling the soreness in his throat. “Just… a nightmare.”

The adrenaline finally left his system as he tried to calm himself down. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the bridge. The screens were all powered off for the night. The chairs were all pushed in. The lights were dimmed just a little to encourage the crew to sleep. The only anomaly here was himself, running in, probably pale white as well.

The commander paused, before letting out an asserted huff. “Really?”

“Yeah. I bolted out of my bed just ‘cause I needed some space. I didn’t consciously run here.”

Once she clicked out of her current panel, the commander turned to him, with gently crossed arms.

“Okay,” she said with a neutral, unjudging tone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh...” Beck felt his usual weariness creep into his thoughts. He never talked about it, not with someone who wasn’t psychology related or the twins. It had always felt so invasive to talk about the subject that he never brought it up.

He momentarily blinked, and for a second, that terrifying pale face flashing in front of his eyes.

His eyelids darted open. The words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Johanssen was stillborn.”

As he winced, he saw a mix of emotions explode onto the commander’s face before she settled on confusion. Already knowing that there was no going back, he pulled together a response.

“Obviously, she’s fine now, it was… just a thing that happened.” Beck rubbed the back of his neck in what he hoped looked like a casual way. It was almost disturbing how ready he was to talk about the incident. “The twins told me they were getting a little sister, and they asked me if I wanted to meet her with them. On, well, her birthday.”

The commander’s confused expression charged itself with a hint of probing.

“Did they really?”

“Yeah,” he said as he pulled his hands apart. “I was in the neighborhood during Johanssen’s birthday, and I’d gained a reputation for being their doctor friend. It also helped that our parents were friends. A bit, at least.”

Lewis still didn’t drop her glare.

“Since you’re probably wondering, I wasn’t supported to see… her,” he said with a palpable amount of distaste. “There was a door between us kids and the delivery room, but we snuck in ‘cause it seemed like a good idea. And then...”

Beck lowered his volume. There was no way he could describe what he saw with any amount of justice.

“Fifty two seconds,” he stated, almost as a gasp. “It was in her old medical records. She didn’t have a pulse for fifty two seconds. I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on at the time, but the doctors scrambled around like mad. It was nuts. I screamed.”

He looked down, focusing instead on the floor.

“The only thing that ever sucked anywhere near as much as Sol 6.”

The commander looked at him with what seemed to be sympathy.

“How long did it take for her to recover?”

“Eleven days. Eleven days in the ICU.”

“How were those days for you?”

“They sucked,” he asserted, wincing out of pain. “Every night I had nightmares and every day, I saw her dead face whenever I blinked. I didn’t want her to die.”

“And she didn’t,” the commander finished, solidifying her stare. “She got better, and now she’s an astronaut and one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Heh,” Beck said with a snort. “At least that story had a happy ending.”

“It will have a happy ending,” she stated with conviction. “In not even two months, we’re getting both of them back.”

It was Beck’s turn to stare at the commander with an arched eye.

“You sure?”

“I can hope,” she solemnly stated. “We still have no idea about what’s going to happen to the two of them, but we can at least hope. I think we’ll perform better if we think like that. Martinez said that, and it makes a little sense. It might even be what helps us save them.”

“Yeah...” Beck lowered his shoulders, doing his best to not blink too deeply. “He said something about that to me a while back.”

“I’m not surprised. But, well, the world believes in them, and they believe in themselves. The least we can do is believe in them too.”

“Of course. No way in hell I’d ever stop believing in them. Especially not her.”

______________________________________________________________________________

JOHANSSEN: Doc, you there?

BECK: Uh, yeah! Did you tweak the MAV code?

JOHANSSEN: Of course I did! It wasn’t exactly difficult, after all. Anything interesting?

BECK: I can’t sleep.

JOHANSSEN: Ouch… any reason for that?

BECK: ‘06.

JOHANSSEN: …

JOHANSSEN: Fuck, Watney saw that. Now he’s wondering what ‘06 is. I’m telling him.

BECK: Sure, it was related to you, after all. Heads up, I did accidentally tell the commander a few days ago.

JOHANSSEN: Oh, alright.

JOHANSSEN: The fuck?

JOHANSSEN: That was Watney, he’s just concerned. Also just a little skeptical as to how you saw the shitshow that was my birth.

BECK: I’m sure Johanssen told you this, but via a series of mischievous decisions that severely bit me in the ass with nightmares later on. If there’s ever been a scene that almost turned me off from being a doctor, it’s that one.

JOHANSSEN: Ouch, rude.

BECK: But also, stay safe. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the MAV launch is peaking at 12 g’s. You two will be hard pressed to take it with your malnutrition.

JOHANSSEN: Of course. We’re doing whatever we can to prepare for the sol, and I think we’re doing fine. I can do the vomit comet without flinching, so I think I’ll be fine.

BECK: Over a year of malnutrition might say otherwise.

JOHANSSEN: Watney here, just hijacking a little, I know how much Johanssen can bullshit about her personal health. Don’t worry, she won't pull a fast one on me. She’s in good hands.

BECK: Both of you get back up here in one piece, okay?

JOHANSSEN: (And Watney): Looking forward to it.

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 535

Mark casually rolled over, but thankfully not enough to crush Beth. When the area both of them slept in was a gloried tent held together with glue, living space was just a little lacking. Mark casually stretched an arm over Beth, to which the sysop let out a tired groan.

“Ugh...” she grumbled, tugging their makeshift bedding over to her side of the room.

“C’mon Sunshine, you gonna wake up now? We both know I can’t exactly leave without tripping over you...”

“I know...” she mumbled as she pushed herself off of the ground. “I miss coffee.”

“Wow. I think that’s the thousandth time you’ve said that,” he deadpanned. She just rolled her eyes.

“For over a year without coffee, I think that number has some generous rounding down,” she snarked back. “What’s on the schedule today?”

“Hmm...” Mark crouched his way through the airlock and into the trailer, where he deftly maneuvered around the atmospheric regulator. “I mean, there’s the obligatory sol that sucks, but since we’ve pulled out Hull Panel Nineteen, I’m not actually sure what’s next.”

“Really, Mark?” Beth asked as he heard shuffling from behind him. “You’re still calling the hydrogen harvesting sols ‘sols that suck’?”

“I mean, is there a more accurate name for them?”

“Almost certainly. We’ve had sols where we exploded, dropped Pathfinder, and more recently, rolled the trailer. In comparison, the hydrogen collection sols don’t suck.”

“Well, call me whenever you give them a new fancy name,” he chimed as he finally arrived at the rover, pulling up the list of tasks.

He casually skimmed through the upper part of the list, knowing very well that they had both checked everything on it twice. Once he finally arrived at the engine removal bullet point, he slowed down to look through each entry.

“Engine removal, nose cone, windows, back panel...”

Mark’s eyes finally arrived at Hull Panel Nineteen. He took a quick glance at the entry just below it, only to find nothing. 

He unconsciously gaped a little at the site. Beth squeezed in next to him.

“So, what’s next?”

“Nothing.”

He turned to face the sysop, and she quickly glanced at the list before realization appeared on her face as well.

There was an odd hint of apprehensiveness on Beth’s face, but once Mark thought about it, he supposed it made sense. There had always been the feeling that even when they were doing nothing, there were still things that needed to be done. There were still things that needed to be built. But, for once, that wasn't true.

“Huh,” Mark stated, not really having any other thoughts. Beth seemed just as lost as he was.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I mean, unless you count inspections.”

A click from her tongue showed that Beth understood him. “Fair enough. I still think we should add a little more duct tape to the canvas we strapped onto the MAV.”

“And I want to check the engine wiring again,” he said, adding an awkward chuckle. “It’d sort of be silly if we tried to launch, only for the engines to not even start in the first place.”

“But, other than that, that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Mark agreed, unconsciously gripping his own arm. “Shit, we’re actually riding this damn MAV.”

“And we both know that NASA’s not telling us our failure rate on purpose, right?” she added, leaning over towards him.

Mark sighed. “Yeah. We’ve got a death trap on our hands.”

“But it beats Mars, right?”

“That’s sorta the point, but to be honest? I’m almost 50/50 on that by now...”

______________________________________________________________________________

SOL 549

It was an oddly charming sight.

Martian sunrises were a unique scene to experience. The traditional color scheme from Earth was inverted, with a cloudy blue hue lingering near the sun as the rest of the sky was tinted butterscotch. Since neither of them had ever woken up early enough to see the sunrise, this was the first, and hopefully last, time they’d ever see this site.

The two of them stood next to each other, carefully admiring a view that no other human had ever seen. Mark had pulled her out here, and even though she had to suit up at their equivalent of five in the morning, it was still sort of worth it. It still gave Beth goosebumps from an emotion that lingered near concern.

“At least this last part isn’t too bad, right?” Mark asked.

“Mmm,” Beth said with a nod, staring at the sunrise with him. “I still don’t like it. I mean, it’s still neat, but I miss normal sunsets. You know?”

“Heh, I know,” Mark stated, suddenly shaking his head a little. “There’s a reason we’re going back to Earth, and it’s not just because we’re fresh out of food.”

She let out a dry wheeze. By out, Mark really did mean out. The two of them ate their last meal pack yesterday, along with the few remaining potatoes they had. By this point, they didn’t have a crumb left.

One way or another, this was it. The final sol.

“By the way, how do you think NASA’s taking this?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I dunno, probably pretty badly.” Beth wrung her hands together as well as she could from within her suit. “The lack of a backup window and things for them to do probably isn’t giving them much confidence.”

“Well, how do you think everyone on the Hermes is doing?”

“They’re probably doing their best, but it’s going to be tough on them. I mean, managing this whole thing with only four people is going to be difficult.”

“You got that part right,” Mark asserted, turning back towards the sun once more.

They sat there for another five minutes, staring towards the sun. Beth didn’t really have anything more to say, so she hoped Mark still had something. He did.

“This has been a hell of an adventure, hasn’t it?” he asked, and she knew that the rhetorical answer was clearly yes. “We did a bit of everything. Chemistry. Botany. Trucking. Engineering. Programming.”

“Dating,” she added with a bright grin.

` Mark snorted sharply. “Okay, ignoring that last part, it’s sort of funny, isn’t it? In order to survive, we did a bit of everything. We needed a whole crew’s worth of specialties to survive, but we just pushed on until it worked.”

“Yeah, we did,” she said, brushing her foot tenderly across the ground. “And, uh, Mark?”

“Yeah?”

She felt a blush building on her cheeks as her heart fluttered.

“Uh, Beth?” Mark asked again. “You there?”

“Uh, sorry. Just… wanted to tell you something.”

Mark shot a finger gun towards her, and she snickered a little.

“Fire away.”

Beth gently clenched her teeth together. “So… Mars has sucked, right?”

“I mean, yeah?” Mark confirmed in confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“But still.” Beth let out a gentle exhale as she grasped the side of his helmet. She suspected that the gesture lost a bit of meaning due to the EVA suits. “Getting to know you was pretty nice.”

Mark scoffed. “Nice?,” he asked, snickering a little. “Beth, knowing you’s been the best thing that ever happened to me! You’re amazing, and I’m super fucking thankful that I got the chance to really know you.”

Beth quietly chucked before gently biting her own lip. Mark nudged her shoulder in response.

“Are you fine?”

“Oh, yeah! I am,” she stated with only a hint of conviction. “Sorry, I'm just… trying to tell you something that I have no idea how to say.”

Mark remained silent. Beth tried to put her words together again, and succeeded just a little.

She let out another breath. “Okay. What I’m trying to say is that, even though Mars sucked, and I’d never opt to do it again, mind you! I’d… it was still worth it.”

She lowered her head toward the ground.

“I mean, it’s weird, but I was just wondering what would’ve happened if it was only me stranded on Mars. Or, hell, only you! It’d doubtlessly suck. Twenty sols of loneliness sucked, and I can’t even begin to imagine a year and a half. So, um. If… if I had a choice between leaving you alone and staying with you here, I’d still opt to stay with you. That’s… That’s what I’m saying.”

Beth let out a nervous chuckle. She wasn’t really sure what to expect. But feelings were feelings, and she had a feeling that Mark deserved to know how she felt. Even if there was no reason for her to feel worried, she still felt a few metaphorical butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She braced herself for the worst.

Mark took a step forward and gave her a warm hug. Even though the Martian air was still just as cold as it normally was, the areas Mark grasped still felt warm.

“Thanks,” he stated, pressing his helmet into hers. “I’m pretty shit at this romantic gushy stuff, but I’ve been feeling those same things too. Thanks for saying that, I guess.”

“Any time,” she stated, hugging him back.

“But Beth, it really has been a hell of an adventure with you here,” he stated, rubbing her back a little. “The one thing I'm still grateful for is that whatever happens, we’re doing it together. Got that?”

She looked up at him, and gave him a smile as tears built up in her eyes.

“Yeah. We’ve been stuck here together, and it’s time for us to leave together. I’m glad I get to do it with you.”

Chapter Text

The solar system held its breath.

In Shanghai, New York, London, and countless other cities, millions of people watched from wherever they could. From their televisions, their screens, their phones, they watched as the day unfolded. Even aboard two orbiting stations, astronauts gathered around their screens to watch the launch.

In Chicago, a middle-aged couple held each other tightly as they watched, and a NASA representative silently surveyed the scene. A similar scene unfolded in San Jose, but a set of twins overlooked that room in particular.

“Fuel pressure nominal,” Commander Lewis stated over the entire planet. “Engine stability nominal. Primary communications nominal. Guidance and CAPCOM are nominal. Remote command.”

“Go,” Martinez reported.

“Recovery.”

“Go,” said Beck.

“Secondary recovery.”

“Go,” Vogel amended.

“Pilots.”

“Go,” Johanssen said,

“And go,” Watney added.

Even if the Ares 3 crew couldn’t hear it, a mild cheer arose from the crowds on Earth.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Mission Control, this is Hermes Actual,” Lewis stated. “The launch remains on schedule. We are T minus ten minutes to launch… mark.”

“Timekeeper?” Mitch asked out loud.

“Affirmative,” the timekeeper responded. “Our clocks are now synched.”

“Cool, not like that’s going to change the twelve minute delay,” Mitch muttered.

______________________________________________________________________________

Beck and Vogel floated in the airlock, staring at the red planet looming in front of them.

“You ready, Vogel?” Beck asked.

“Of course,” Vogel replied, carefully releasing the lock on the tether wheel. “Now, are you ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Beck flatly stated. “No way in hell I’m letting them down. Even if I can’t say I ever thought we’d be doing this.”

“We are the first, I suppose.”

Beck blinked, turning away from Mars to face Vogel.

“What do you mean?”

“We are the first to visit Mars twice.”

Beck paused before letting out a snort. “Oh, yeah. Even Johanssen and Watney can’t say that.”

“They cannot.”

The duo stared at Mars in silence for just a moment. Beck, once he ran another diagnostic on his MMU, cleared his throat to speak again.

“Vogel?” Beck began.

“Yes, doctor?”

“Heads up. I have no idea what’s going to happen,” Beck said, taking another moment to adjust his EVA helmet. “With a launch like this, anything could happen. Don’t be surprised if I try to go out untethered.”

“Dr. Beck,” Vogel warned. “The commander has said no to this.”

“I know that, but I’ll do it anyway. I’m more than willing to take a court martial. Just know that if push comes to shove, I’m saving them. Orders be damned.”

“Johanssen and Watney would not approve of this,” Vogel shot back. “They are in enough danger as it is, and we certainly do not need to start risking you.”

Beck scowled from within his EVA helmet, and he held his expression. Even if Vogel couldn’t see his face.

“I’ll do it if need be,” Beck repeated. “Consequences be damned.”

Vogel didn’t say another word.

______________________________________________________________________________

“You ready, Beth?” Mark asked.

“About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of them sat in their seats, facing upwards at the Hab canvas mounted over the hole in the MAV. In order to not fidget, Mark clasped his hands together and held them in his lap. The sol was finally here. One way or another, they were leaving Mars, but it was still insufferable. It had been easy enough to work with the fact that rescue was years away, and he was hoping that it would be easy enough to work through whatever mental bullshit Mars had traumatized them with. But now, right before the launch? It was the only thing he could think about, and it was positively overwhelming.

“Hey, Mark- er… Watney,” Beth began with a hint of confidence. “Just a heads up. Don’t forget to switch back to using my last name, at least for the launch. We don’t want the world to figure out what’s going on between us.”

He nodded before fiddling with the volume settings for his EVA speakers a little.

“Heh, funny you mention that,” he remarked. “I assume we didn’t transmit that last part, right?”

“Of course not!” Johanssen insisted. “I talked with NASA last sol, and they’ve green lighted us muting ourselves. We’re muted for the ascent, just in case it’s a little rough.”

“Got it,” Watney replied, diverting his attention to another voice coming from his suit speaker.

“T-minus ten… nine… eight...” the commander stated, and Watney felt goosebumps crawling down his neck from what might have been the MAV rumbling for launch.

“Guess this is it,” Johanssen muttered under her breath. Had he been able to lean out of his seat, he would have tried to look at her one last time. Instead, he decided to settle for something else.

“Johanssen?”

“Yeah?”

He grinned. If there was a time for a joke, it was now.

“I don’t think you need to worry about this launch. I’m positive that it’ll be absolutely stellar.”

The duo spent one last moment on the red planet in silence. If he wasn’t strapped down, he would have proudly given Johanssen the best shit eating grin of his life.

Johanssen wheezed before taking in one last breath. “Oh my-”

Completely disregarding Johanssen, the MAV’s engines ignited. Their terrifyingly strong combustion process had finally started, and the whole vehicle blasted upwards with a terrifying amount of force. Johanssen barely even let out a grunt before he suspected she was slammed into her seat.

The cushion, the cushion. Watney tried to think about the cushion. The hoodie he had packed within his EVA suit helmet had been added as barely an afterthought, but it was a mercifully soothing afterthought. It was not just a relief for his forehead, but also for his mind as he tried to focus on it to avoid passing out.

Directly above him, his eyes drifted toward the Hab canvas strapped to the top of the ship, still dutifully holding. Some distant part of his mind wanted to monitor it to make sure it didn’t fail, but the vast majority just wanted to stay conscious.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Velocity seven hundred and sixty-three meters per second,” Commander Lewis stated as the numbers on her monitor rapidly increased. “Altitude fifteen hundred and ninety meters.”

“Copy,” Martinez said while biting his own lip. “Looking good.”

“Looking really good,” she added, taking one more moment to look over the numbers again. “I can’t say any of the sims have ever looked this good.”

“I can’t either.” Martinez gently tilted the joystick in his hand to the right. “But this ain’t the time to be arguing with progress.”

“Velocity eight hundred and seventy-five meters per second, altitude two thousand and ninety,” the commander added.

Martinez leaned forward in his seat.

“Come on guys, keep it up,” he almost whispered, his eyes focused on the virtual nav ball in front of him. The commander, once she confirmed that Martinez still seemed content, instinctively turned towards her microphone.

“Watney, Johanssen,” she stated out loud. “Do either of you copy? Any reports?”

______________________________________________________________________________

Johanssen had never been one for screaming, and even now, she didn’t really feel like it. Sure, that might have been due to her own circulatory system being compromised, but she hoped that the rest of it was just her own feelings.

A voice was calling out to her from somewhere. In front of her? To her sides? The speaker? Yeah, that last part sounded right.

Whoever it was, it didn’t really sound like the Doc. The Doc would probably be throwing a bit more of a hissy fit than whoever was calling her. It definitely wasn’t Will’s accent, and if anything, it sounded like a woman’s voice.

Mom, Crystal, maybe? Something about that theory felt wrong, but she couldn’t see any flaws in it. Something was… happening, so mom and/or Crystal were trying to save her. From whatever was going on.

She felt an odd feeling in her chest, and in her head as well. Maybe a little in her arms, and she wouldn’t be surprised if there was some other pain she was missing as well. Man, the Doc was going to freak out whenever he found her. 

Her chest, she dimly thought as her eyelids fluttered shut. Something about her chest felt like it ached. A lot. It was a bunch of small aches that all seemed to combine into one really large ache. That probably wasn’t good. It also seemed to make breathing a little harder, if the winded feeling in her lungs was something to listen to.

Even though part of her mind wanted to stay awake, another part of it thought that sleeping was a better idea. Sure, maybe staying up for whatever was happening was a good idea, but maybe she could just skip whatever was happening with a quick nap.

One way or another, the edges of her vision went black as her eyelids closed completely.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Performance seems to be balancing out now,” Martines remarked as he twitched the joystick yet again.

“We’re out of the atmosphere, so maybe it was an improved aerodynamics feature?” the commander spitballed.

“Sounds about right,” Martinez said. “I mean, insane engineering designs are sort of Watney’s thing. The fact he overachieved here isn’t really all that surprising.”

Commander Lewis gave him a short nod, keeping two steady hands at her keyboard.

“How’s the ascent profile looking?” she asked as she shifted her glance from him to his station.

“Way better than expected,” Martinez said as his eyes stared at the velocity display, mounted proudly above the rest of the information on the screen. “We’re looking at a good rendezvous.”

“How good?” Beck called from over the intercom with a tentative hope.

“Can’t say for certain now. Gimme three… two… one… shutdown.”

“Shutdown confirmed,” the commander added. “Beginning the interval pings and calling them right...”

The commander quickly pressed a few buttons as a few additional windows appeared at her station. Martinez only saw them out of the corner of his eye, but he guessed that they were something along the lines of bio-monitor data.

“Now,” the commander began. “Johanssen, Watney, do either of you read me?”

“I doubt that Commander,” Beck said with what sounded like a wince. They’re probably both passed out.”

“Yeah, we should give them a few minutes,” Martinez said. “Intercept data?”

“Intercept velocity of… three point three meters per second, and a distance of seventy-nine meters at intercept,” the commander stated.

Beck wheezed. “Can you repeat that?”

“Seventy-nine meter approach, and a three point three meters per second intercept velocity.”

“And if it’d be nice, I can reduce that intercept velocity down to zero,” Martinez added. “NASA green lighted the use of the attitude adjustment fuel for the rendezvous, and we can use a solid thirty-one meters per second of delta-v from it.”

“You don’t have to, but it’d be nice,” Beck’s voice claimed from over the radio. “It’d effectively take out the physics side of the time constraint. Commander?”

“Do it,” she stated as she scanned her screen once more. “That’ll make the rescue that much easier.”

Martinez, finally free from the responsibility of piloting the MAV, turned over to look at the commander. Just from the way she was hunched over, looking at the bio-monitor data, he knew something was up.

“Uh, what’s up?” he asked. “The launch went well, so what’s there to worry about?”

“Their bio-monitors,” Beck muttered under his breath. “What do we have?”

“Watney has a pulse of fifty-seven and a blood pressure of ninety-eight over sixty-two.”

“Hm.” Beck said nonchalantly. “The numbers are a little bit off, but after eighteen months of Mars, it’s to be expected. Johanssen?”

“N/As across the board.”

Over the radio, Martinez heard what sounded like a loud slam.

“What!?” Beck stated, barely reining himself in for the last half of his syllable.

“Come on, keep it together, Beck,” the commander stated. “We know that the bio-monitors can be occasionally unreliable, and that might be the case again. For all we know, she might be in a better state than Watney.”

“We… can hope,” Beck stated. “Right. And we will.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Whoa,” Annie said, still staring at the main screen. “That was a lot of shit.”

“A lot of good news and bad news,” Venkat said as he focused on Mitch, who was in turn staring thoughtfully at the screen closest to him. “The launch went well. Intercept range and velocity are both better than expected, and Martinez can zero out their relative velocity to make the EVA part of the rescue easier.”

“Then what’s the bad news?” Annie asked.

“The bio-monitors. Watney’s looking fine, but we’re getting sketchy numbers from Johanssen.”

“Wait, we’re trusting the bio-monitors?” Annie asked with an arched brow. “I thought they were sort of unreliable. Didn’t Sol 6 prove that?”

“They are, but Johanssen’s a bit concerning when it comes to her physical state,” Venkat said as he looked at the frantically gesturing doctors in the corner of the control room. “She’s been on an absolutely minimalistic diet for her entire stay on Mars, so the thought of the MAV launch severely wounding her is all too viable.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“No, not really. We’re light minutes away, the Hermes is still a multitude of kilometers away, and the only person within arms reach of Johanssen is approximately as wounded as she is right now.”

“Oh God, fuck,” Annie stated.

“Sounds about right,” Venkat agreed.

______________________________________________________________________________

Pain. Whatever was happening, there was a lot of pain. Watney slowly emerged into consciousness, letting out a garbled groan while clutching at his chest. Right. MAV launch, 12 g’s, probably broken ribs, the whole shebang.

He first diverted his attention toward the area in front of him, where the Hab canvas remained stretched out over the hole. Even though the canvas was by no means translucent, he still raised a smirk, as he knew that the red planet was somewhere beyond the canvas.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, hoping that the ship was currently facing Mars.

Once he let those emotions out of his system, Watney gently reached over to his arm and pressed down on the radio control button. “Hermes, do you copy?”

“Watney!?” a voice cried out from the speaker.

“Yep, even at something approaching ‘fine and dandy’. That you, Commander?”

“Confirmed,” came the reply. Watney could hear the faint sounds of someone else cheering over at the Hermes. “Your status?”

“Like I said, ‘fine and dandy’, if you ignore at least two broken ribs in my chest,” he said, finishing with a snort. “Other than that, I know I’m strapped down on a ship without a control panel, but there ain’t much else I can figure out.”

“Any breathing issues?”

“Nope,” he said with a tint of pride. “How’s the intercept looking?”

“Looking sharp. Martinez says your modifications made the launch smoother than expected.”

“Well, it’s good that one person thought that the launch went smooth,” Watney quipped. He would have let out a chuckle, but a sudden surge of pain in his chest from his attempt at one left him wincing.

“However, there is still one issue with the launch. How is Johanssen doing?”

“Uh… still unconscious?” Mark stated, glancing over to his side to confirm that Johanssen was still lying in her seat. “I mean, she probably just needs a few minutes, right?”

“Maybe, but we’re also getting N/As from her bio-monitor.”

Watney's eyes went wide at that statement, and he was now glancing at the sysop with concern.

“While the bio-monitors have been occasionally unreliable, Johanssen’s malnutrition means that we can’t ignore the possibility of her being severely injured,” the commander stated. “Watney, I know asking you to do something now is asking for a lot, but please leave your seat now. Try to help Johanssen.”