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i. at training camp
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Johanssen’s head shoots up to look at him, the computer in her lap all but forgotten.
“What?” she asks.
They’ve been divided into two groups for the day, him and Johanssen and Vogel making up one group and Lewis, Martinez, and Beck the other. Each group was given the same list of tasks to accomplish, ostensibly to test their teamwork skills. Mark suspects it’s more to determine leadership seniority, but he’s not particularly bothered by that. He’ll be somewhere near the bottom, he knows, because he’s usually more than happy to let other people take the lead.
By now, their group has checked off all but the last few, so Mark’s been idly watching Johanssen plug away at her computer for the last couple of minutes.
In those minutes, he’s noticed that she keeps on looking over at the other three, who are sitting on the other side of the room. Come to think of it, it’s something she’s been doing all afternoon, the kind of behavior that’s innocuous once or twice but not more than that. He supposes he could just chalk it up to a competitive spirit, but something tells him that’s not quite it.
As Johanssen waits for his reply, she glances across the room again.
“Something over there that’s interesting?” he teases, happy to have her provide the evidence.
“Nope,” she says, popping the p and going back to her coding, fingers flying across the keyboard. Her denial is not super convincing, especially when she can’t stop herself from looking back over a second later.
“All I can say is that I hope it’s not Martinez,” Mark says, leaning back against his chair in mock restfulness. “His wife is a lovely woman, and I’d hate for you to break them up.”
“It’s not Martinez.”
“So there is someone, then? A certain doctor, perhaps?” He can see it. All of them are nerds in some way or another (it’s hard to be an astronaut if you’re not), but Beck and Johanssen have a similar way of talking about the things they love. In his absolutely-not-at-all-professional opinion, they’d complement each other well.
Johanssen remains silent, though Mark swears her typing sounds become more aggressive.
“Fine,” he says, “I’m taking your silence as agreement.”
“Isn’t there something you could be doing?” she asks, wrinkling her nose at him. She sounds irritated, but Mark can see the fondness in her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, turning to Vogel, who has been watching them with undisguised amusement. “You need some help?”
In the end, they finish the assignment slightly slower than the other team, something Martinez takes great pleasure in holding over Mark’s head. The two of them are the last ones left in the cafeteria, sitting across from each other at one of the long white tables.
“How does it feel to be second-best?” Rick says, laughing. He reaches over to pat Mark’s shoulder, hard.
“In my defense, I was distracted,” Mark protests, shrugging off Martinez’s hand and using his best ‘have-I-got-a-story-for-you’ voice.
Martinez leans in. “Do tell, Watney.”
“Our resident computer specialist couldn’t take her eyes off of someone in the other group. You get one guess as to who, and I’ll even give you a hint: you’re long past your prime.” Rick gasps at him in faux-outrage before his mouth takes on a mischievous grin.
“I’d like to believe you, but how do I know you didn’t just make it up as an excuse for losing?” Mark likes to think he has more integrity than that, but he can’t deny that Rick has a point.
“You don’t,” he says, shrugging, “but I’ll put my money where my mouth is. Twenty dollars they get together during the mission.”
Martinez nods and reaches his hand out to shake. “Bold, Watney, I like it. You’re on."
ii. on the Hermes , headed to Mars
Nobody wants to admit it, but space travel gets pretty boring after a while. There’s only so many times you can blow bubbles in zero-g or film educational videos for kids back on Earth or make “are we there yet?” jokes; after a week or two, Mark doesn’t have much to do besides checking on his plants. So really, can you blame him for wanting a little excitement?
Plus, it’s not like he would do this if he didn’t genuinely think Beck and Johanssen would be good together. If Rick hadn’t outlawed direct interference in the terms of their bet, well, that was his own fault.
He starts simple enough.
“Hey, Johanssen, can you run this to Beck?” he asks, holding out a plastic-wrapped package. In it is just a random plant cutting, but she has no way of knowing that.
“Can’t you do that yourself?” Mark thinks he detects a tinge of suspicion in her voice. He and Johanssen are currently sitting in the rec room, enjoying their time off by doing absolutely nothing, while Beck is probably in medical on the other side of the ship.
Mark pretends to look apologetic. “Sorry, I promised Rick I would go help him with something. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Johanssen sighs, though Mark suspects it’s mostly for dramatic effect. “Fine, give it to me.”
“You’re the best.” He slides the package over to her and turns his attention back to his tablet.
“I know.” She takes the package and makes for the hall passage, before turning around in the doorway. “Aren’t you going?”
Mark looks up. “Going where?”
She raises a single eyebrow, and he searches his mind frantically for what he’s forgotten. “To help Martinez.”
“Right, right.” He hauls himself reluctantly off the couch, heading in the opposite direction. Martinez isn’t exactly glad to see him, but Mark makes himself useful enough that Rick doesn’t think to ask him why he’s there.
Although Beck comes to him later and asks what the hell he’s supposed to do with a Lamiaceae Mentha plant, Mark notices no visible changes in Beck and Johanssen’s relationship as result of his little stunt. Clearly, he needs to step things up.
Lewis is a creature of habit, even in space. She makes the duty schedules at the same time every week, so it’s simple enough to approach her one Saturday and ask her to switch around his shifts.
“Dare I ask why?” She starts erasing without waiting for an answer, but Mark gives her one anyway.
“I was thinking I needed a little change to my routine. You know, break up the sameness.” It’s not totally a lie– if Beck and Johanssen get their act together, that would certainly be more interesting than usual. Almost nothing gets past Lewis, so he’d kill to see them try and hide a whole relationship.
“Alright,” she says, handing him her tablet. “Pick some slots and I’ll change others to work around you.”
He takes it, marking himself down for a couple of the slots where Lewis will probably have to move Johanssen and Beck together as a result. To throw off the scent, he also signs up for a couple of random ones, though it pains him to write his name next to ‘early morning communications with mission control.’ Satisfied, he hands the tablet back to Lewis.
“If the ‘sameness’ gets too much, you should talk to one of the NASA psychologists.” Mark tries to conceal a grimace, but Lewis clearly notices anyway. “I know, but having good mental health is important.”
“Thanks, Commander,” he says, and means it. She’s their leader for a reason. If she didn’t care about them, they wouldn’t trust her with their lives.
The next day, he and Vogel are standing in the hallway when Johanssen and Beck brush past them on their way from a space walk. The two of them are chatting animatedly, Johanssen’s hands flying as she talks. Mark waves at them as they walk by, doing an internal fist pump that can probably be seen from Earth.
When Rick passes them by a moment later, Mark taps him on the shoulder and gestures down the hallways. Martinez looks at where he’s pointing, then turns back and gives Mark the finger.
“What was that about?” Vogel asks, when it’s just the two of them in the hallway again.
“Oh, nothing important,” Mark says. “You wanted to see me about my platelet count?”
Now that Beck and Johanssen seem to be getting along swimmingly, Mark is more than content to sit back and let nature take its course. It’s only a matter of time before they get together (if they haven’t already). By the time they reach the surface of Mars, he considers the bet as good as won.
Of course, then everything goes to absolute fucking shit. The bet is almost entirely forgotten, a sad reminder of when that was what occupied his time. Still, sometimes when he lies awake at night, Mark thinks about Johanssen and Beck and hopes they’ve finally gotten their act together. At least the universe can grant him that.
iii. on sol 534
[21:03] MAV: Johanssen, you up?
[21:04] JOHANSSEN: Oh, hi Mark.
[21:04] MAV: Very funny.
[21:05] JOHANSSEN: Something wrong?
[21:06] MAV: Couldn’t sleep, missing you guys.
[21:06] JOHANSSEN: I take it you don’t want to go over the launch plan again?
[21:07] MAV: At this point that’s all I see when I close my eyes.
[21:08] JOHANSSEN: Got it. Well, I’m not a NASA shrink, but I can still listen if you’d like.
[21:09] JOHANSSEN: Mark?
[21:10] MAV: I’m just fucking sick of it all. Sick of potatoes, sick of feeling terrible, sick of being alone on this godforsaken planet.
[21:10] JOHANSSEN: I’d say I get it, but I think we both know that wouldn’t be true.
[21:11] MAV: On a lighter note, my absolute terror at the idea of being launched into space is at least partially cancelled out by my desire to be anywhere but here.
[21:11] JOHANSSEN: Well, I guess that’s something?
[21:12] MAV: Seriously, I’ve tried every piece of media that you guys downloaded. If this were a cheesy but heartwarming 2010s TV show, that would be the sign I was ready to leave.
[21:13] JOHANSSEN: I can’t wait to see you again.
[21:14] MAV: Here’s to hoping.
[21:15] MAV: Speaking of media, I enjoyed Leather Goddesses of Phobos by the way.
[21:15] JOHANSSEN: If you say one word about that, I will block any and all of your future electronic devices from playing anything other than disco.
[21:16] MAV: Harsh, Johanssen. Why, don’t want the handsome doctor knowing about your proclivity towards babes from outer space?
[21:16] JOHANSSEN: Not what I was thinking at all, actually, but thanks for putting that image in my head.
[21:17] MAV: Speaking of which, how are you and Beck doing?
[21:18] JOHANSSEN: We’re all hanging in there, but I don’t know what you’re implying.
[21:18] MAV: No need to be coy with me. Unless, of course, Lewis is watching over your shoulder, in which case I am referring to nothing in particular, Commander.
[21:19] JOHANSSEN: Wait, are you sure this experience hasn’t turned you into a psychic?
[21:20] MAV: Holy shit, she’s really there? Tell her I say hi.
[21:21] JOHANSSEN: She says hello back, and also promises you’ll have plenty of non-disco music to choose from once you come aboard.
[21:22] MAV: Optimistic about my chances, are you?
[21:24] MAV: Sorry, Commander.
[21:25] JOHANSSEN: You’re coming home. Lewis says that’s an order.
[21:25] MAV: Roger that.
iv. on the Hermes , homeward bound
They’re three months into the return journey, almost halfway home, and Mark still can’t sleep. The ship is so much louder than the Hab had been, all the little noises he’d never noticed before but now can’t stop hearing. Beck tells him he should be trying to establish a better routine, but, short of actually drugging him, there’s not much he can do to help. Mark is way beyond sick of drugs, so he wanders instead.
He usually starts off by doing a circuit around the outer ring, careful not to wake the others. He takes his time, looking out each of the massive windows into the vastness of space. On Mars, his life had been reduced to more or less 100 square meters. Even driving to Schiaparelli, he’d been trapped in the tiny vehicle, unable to stretch his legs properly. Large spaces are his new favorite thing, he’s decided, right behind any food that isn’t a potato.
He’s passing by the door to Johanssen’s room when he hears a noise. That in itself isn’t unusual. Johanssen has been known to lose all sense of time when working on one coding project or another. Mark decides to knock and see if she wants company. It would be nice to not be alone. Just as he raises his fist to her door, Johanssen speaks:
“No,” she says. Her tone makes it clear that this is the final word on the matter, whatever that matter might be. It’s something he might expect of Lewis, when he’s being particularly foolish or petulant, but it’s strange to hear Johanssen sound like that.
Mark freezes, trying to figure out why she said that. Is someone else in her room?
His question is answered a moment later, as he hears the sound of a response. He strains his ears to catch what they’re saying, but the words are lost in a particularly loud rumble from some part of the ship. After a moment the ship quiets down again, just in time for him to hear Johanssen again.
“It’s not your fault.” She’s slightly quieter, as if she’d realized how loud her first outburst had been, but her words are no less insistent.
It must be Beck in there with her, though he doesn’t know what he'd be blaming himself for. Mark knows the whole team feels some guilt for not saving him the first time around, but he really does believe that there was nothing they could have done.
There’s little privacy on the ship to begin with, so Mark steps away from the door, though the nosy side of him wants to hear the rest of the conversation. He lingers outside her door for a moment, but can’t hear more than whispers.
As he’s leaving, her voice rises one more time. “We’re all safe now. You did that.”
He spends the rest of the night trying to understand what he’d heard, but it still doesn’t quite make sense. Maybe the lack of sleep is getting to him after all.
When he sees Johanssen the next day, he can’t resist asking her if she slept well. Her answering blush is incriminating enough to make him forget about the exact contents of what he heard, or at least to stop caring about what it meant. He is so totally winning this bet.
v . at a fancy hotel somewhere in Washington D.C.
After all the appropriate reprimanding has taken place, NASA throws them all a “thank God you’re still alive” party. Mark shows up half an hour late, but he reasons he’s the centerpiece of the party anyway, so, in the infamous words of Kesha, the party doesn’t start until he walks in. He’s only slightly disappointed to find out he’s wrong. The party is in full swing, and although heads do turn to look at him when he enters, the attention wanes quickly.
Mark’s at the drink table, hiding from Annie and her withering glares when he sees Johanssen. If she’s as uncomfortable in her dress as he is in his suit, she’s definitely hiding it better. She looks elegant, her pale pink dress swirling around her ankles, though all the rhinestones in the world can’t erase the adorable nerd inside.
True to form, she all but runs over to him, colliding with him in an exuberant hug. Touch had been one of the worst things to get used to, but the team had always seemed to understand. They’d avoided touching him unless he initiated it, letting him start with small gestures. When he’d felt well enough, he’d hugged all of them in turn, trying to convey his gratitude without words.
As they separate, he realizes that she looks more than just pretty. She has the glow that he associates with people who are unreasonably happy with their lives.
“Hot date?” he asks, only half joking.
She smirks at him in a way that’s probably supposed to come off as mysterious but instead mostly makes her look like more of a dork. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”
The two of them break out laughing, attracting the attention of more than a few of the other guests. Unfortunately, this number includes one Annie Montrose, who begins to advance towards them with the determination of a hawk concentrating on its prey.
“Scatter,” Johanssen whisper-shouts, making a beeline for the balcony. Mark goes the other way, hiding behind a pillar until Annie’s attention eventually wanes.
When he emerges from his hiding place, he looks around for Johanssen, but she hasn’t returned to the party. Eventually he finds her still standing on the balcony, illuminated by the setting sun. Next to her is another woman, wearing a simple black dress that is nevertheless striking. She’s turned halfway away from him, looking at Johanssen, and the light makes it difficult to tell her identity.
As he watches, the other woman places her hand on the small of Johanssen’s back and pulls her in for a kiss. Judging by the way Johanssen leans in, wrapping her hands around the other woman’s shoulders, it’s not unexpected.
Mark’s brain tries furiously to process this information, but he mostly ends up with a bunch of questions. Chief among them: who is this woman that the notoriously shy Beth Johanssen apparently likes enough to kiss at a public party?
In that moment, the woman breaks the kiss and turns towards the party (and, incidentally, him). Her red hair is suddenly familiar, her fond smile bringing up countless memories, and Mark feels all the blood rush to his head as he realizes that the mystery woman is none other than Melissa-fucking-Lewis. He hasn’t eaten anything more substantial than canapés all evening, so when she makes direct eye contact with him and gives him a little wave, it takes everything he has to keep from passing out in shock.
She goes back to chatting with Johanssen and Mark wanders back to the thick of the party, feeling more than a little bit dazed. How long has that been going on? Was it while he was trying to set Johanssen up with Beck? As he thinks, the pieces start to slot into place, casting all his thoughts in a new light. If they were romantically involved during the mission, it’s a minor miracle that neither one of them has slapped him by now.
“You good, man?” Rick asks, snapping him out of his reverie, and Mark swears there’s a twinkle in his eye. Was he the only one who didn’t know?
“Yeah… I’m… yeah,” he says.
“In that case,” Rick responds, looking unreasonably pleased with himself. He gestures towards the balcony. “You owe me twenty bucks.”
Trust Martinez to remember a bet made in jest years ago, one that Mark hasn’t thought about in months. So much has changed since they sat in that cafeteria, for him and for all of them. But a bet is a bet, and Mark’s not fond of breaking promises anyway.
Still, he puts up a fight, though he knows it will most likely be useless. “Johanssen still ended up with someone on the mission, didn’t she?”
“But not Beck, and, if I recall correctly, you were the one who made the terms of the deal, so no complaining that I cheated you. Pay up.” He holds out his hand.
Sighing for dramatic effect, Mark reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out his wallet. He selects the most wrinkled twenty he can find (he’s never claimed to be a gracious loser) and hands it to Martinez.
Across the room, Mark sees that Johanssen and Lewis have come in from the balcony, standing on the outskirts of the party. Lewis makes her way leisurely towards them, coming to a stop right behind Martinez. Mark stifles a snort as she plucks the twenty out of his hand.
“As your former commander, I say that betting on the dating lives of your crewmates is absolutely inappropriate,” she says, smoothing the bill between her fingers. Mark and Rick have the sense to look appropriately chastised. “Plus, I think this rightfully belongs to me, if anyone.”
With that, she leaves the two of them, returning to Johanssen’s side.
Later on in the evening, he encounters Johanssen by the dessert bar, adding copious amounts of chocolate syrup to her ice cream.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, feigning offense. Though his pride is a little wounded, he’s not really upset. He knows how it feels to have the whole world clamoring for details of your life, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“Honestly, once I realized you had absolutely no idea what was going on, it was pretty fun to watch you try and set me up with Beck.” Her words start to calm the part of him that was terrified he’d hurt her with his actions, but he still isn’t fully convinced.
“You really didn’t mind?” Looking back on it, he can tell how transparent his attempts at matchmaking had been. If she wants him to apologize, that would probably be the least of what he owes her.
Johanssen shakes her head. “I would’ve told you if you’d crossed a line, or gotten Melissa to do it for me, but you didn’t, so I just let you make a fool of yourself.”
“I did look like an idiot, didn’t I?”
“Definitely.” She grins at him, and Mark can’t help but smile back. All he’d really wanted was for her to be happy, and it looks like she’s succeeded perfectly, absolutely no thanks to him.