Chapter Text
He's there when Vogel finally relocates to the US. Houston, to be exact. Alex had moved his family over from Germany for the entire duration of the Ares III training, to a NASA-owned property close to HSC. All of them had been living in the same building, primarily to make them get used to having each other around constantly. But a few days after Ares III had launched, Alex' wife and kids returned to their home country to be with their family, so they could help out with the kids while Alex was doing all sorts of crazy science in space.
Mark has always respected especially Vogel and Martinez' willingness to go back for him, because he knows how difficult it must've been to miss so much time in their children's lives. He's seen first-hand how easily the often-stoic German and wise-cracking New Yorker turn into big piles of mush at the faintest smile from one of them. They're family men, and so it's only logical that when NASA comes knocking with an offer for Vogel to lead the Chemistry division for Mars missions, everyone from the crew urges him to take the job; he leaves the decision to his family.
Mark guesses that after the whole 'bomb-that-didn't-make-everything-explode-but-saved-the-day' thing, NASA has finally realised that Ares III had pretty much the best crew ever and they were now trying to lock down as many members as possible. And with Mark probably up for a teaching job and Martinez in negotiations with Vincent Kapoor—they're well on the way.
Ultimately, Helena Vogel once again proves that she is the best wife ever—Marissa Martinez is great too, but boy, she scares Mark sometimes—and she decides that she can teach mathematics just as well in the US and follows her husband back to Houston.
But of course, she exacts revenge on every member of the crew who tried to persuade her by making them all help with the move.
"Come on, Watney, put your back into it," Martinez calls out as the two of them are loading a closet out of a U-Haul truck.
"Ha-ha, Martinez. Very nice making fun of a man with a back beyond saving," Mark replies, setting the closet on the lawn with an extra-loud groan. Lewis shakes her head with a grin and lifts the closet up again with Johanssen on the other side.
"Bested by two women, gentlemen. That has to hurt more than your back ever will," Helena quips. She takes two boxes from her husband and passes the pilot and the botanist with ease, chuckling to herself.
Mark touches his chest in mock outrage. "Alex, control your woman, for the love of God!"
"I think we learned in training that we can do no such thing with the women we know. Sometimes we must admit our defeat."
"Never!" Martinez replies, raising a fist. "We shall not surrender!"
"The women in our lives like me just fine," Beck points out, arms full of bags filled with stuffed animals. The sun was already hanging low in the sky, and with that NASA cap on, he looks like boyish charm personified.
Watney snorts. "That's because you look like that, my friend. You've corrupted them all."
Vogel claps the doctor on the back good-naturedly and then trails off with boxes of his own.
"How about less trash talk and more working?" Johanssen loudly suggests from the front door.
Martinez grumbles, choosing a couple of chairs to move inside. "If you think that's trash talk, you're in for a wild ride tonight, Johanssen!"
After a few hours, the trucks outside the Vogel residence are empty and Alex and Helena's five perfectly bilingual children are released onto the lawn, just as Mark and Commander Lewis—Melissa, now—are closing up. She launches towards them, growling playfully. Three of them grab her around the neck and she laughs out loud, a sound not unfamiliar to the rest of the crew, but loud enough to make Watney smile. It reminds him of how warm a person she is, something he's got to witness in spades over the years they've known each other. She's had to work twice as hard to get to where she is, but she's never resented anyone for it. She just kept going. And while there were definitely some machos who had refused to serve under a woman after she was announced as commander, for Mark it had been one of the reasons to apply for Ares III.
"Is everything inside?" the eldest asks, a boy the spitting image of his father.
Melissa nods, accepting the high five he offers her. "Do you guys like the house?"
Mark squats down beside Lewis when everyone yells affirmatively, except for Lily, the youngest of them. The blonde girl scuffs her feet across the ground, looking down.
"What do you think, Lily?"
The little girl looks up at him shyly and mumbles, "I thought Daddy was going to buy us a Disney castle. He promised me when I was little."
That answer takes both former astronauts by surprise, reminding them that no matter how big the discoveries they have made, there's nothing as wonderous as the innocent look on life that a child has. And incidentally, Mark actually remembers this conversation, since it was one father and daughter Vogel had during one of their "literally-everybody-is-included-even-Annie-Montrose-and-Vincent-Kapoor" dinners. Melissa must recall it too, judging by the small grin she gives him.
She urges the little girl closer to her and grabs her hands, getting her attention. "I'm sorry you're disappointed, sweetie, but do you want to know what I think? I think your daddy must have thought that you are way too special to live in someone else's castle. He probably wants you to have your own."
"But it doesn't look like one," she insists sadly.
Mark has to suppress a smile when he glances at the new Vogel residence—it wasn't exactly a dump either.
"Well," he replies, getting an idea, "a castle's really big, you know. Your dad probably wants to be as close to you as possible and not lose anyone in a big castle. You're all very dear to him."
To his surprise, a sudden smile overtakes the girl's features. "My daddy's the best."
"He sure is. Why don't you guys go inside and tell him that? Go on," he suggests, and the lot of them shriek as they bolt through the front door.
Melissa stands up and stands there smiling at him like an idiot.
"What?"
"That was really sweet, Mark," she replies slyly.
"I know, I have to make sure that doesn't happen too often. I might get a reputation."
His back protests a little when he gets up—those damn rocks and that damn Hab breach and goddamn everything. His friend's smile falters for a second. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just acts up sometimes. Maybe I am turning into an old man."
The concern on her face isn't quite gone when she deadpans, "Well, you are the oldest of us all."
He narrows his eyes at her. Youths. "Is that your MO? Compliment a guy and then go for a blow below the belt? I have to ask Robert about that."
She chuckles now, finally taking the spotlight off his health, and loops her arm through his. Really, they've been back on Earth for almost six months, and more than just colleagues and friends for much longer—what should you call a group of people who saved your life while risking theirs and going against one of the most powerful organisations in the world to do it? Anyway, they've been all that for so long and he still hasn't gotten used to their Commander being this affectionate. They all like it, though. She often let herself miss all the fun during Ares III because she had to keep them all in check. Off-duty Lewis could be very sarcastic.
"Come on, Grandpa. Let's help Helena with dinner," she says, nudging him with her elbow as they walk across the lawn.
Two hours later, the kids are off to bed and the adults crack open another bottle of wine. There were still some boxes strewn across the living room, but the essentials were there, and with all the laughter sounding through the kitchen and dining room, it was more than enough.
"Oh, Melissa, Rick, you should've brought your spouses along. It's been such a long time since we all sat in that family room to see you guys land," Helena says, squeezing her husband's hand.
Mark scoffs lightly, looking around the table. "What, and let me be the only single loser in this house? No, thanks."
"Relax, Watney, the kids are single too," Johanssen reminds him, her face all mischief.
"Actually," Alex counters, "Levi has a girlfriend. Sorry, Mark."
The others laugh, but Mark just gives his European friend the finger in return.
"Marissa is still not too happy with me, so..." Martinez tells them, squirming a bit in his seat.
This time it's Mark's turn to grin. "Well, you did agree to another mission to Mars after just finishing the longest one anyone will probably ever have."
"You still in the doghouse, Rick?" Beck asks; like all of them, he knows how vengeful Marissa can be towards her husband. In a very loving way, of course.
"Yeah..." he admits reluctantly, throwing his hands up in frustration, "It's the shortest Ares mission of all, and I feel like she's more upset now than when I told her we were going back for Dr. Botany."
Everyone's lips quirk up at that nickname, given to Mark one day on the Hermes when, during his physical therapy, he was complaining about how Beck was the only one allowed to be called doctor just because he had an MD, and the rest of them with a PhD—Mark, Alex and Melissa—could just go to hell.
"Well, maybe that's because you just got back and you want to return already," Johanssen supplies. "Way to make a woman feel wanted, Major."
Rick visibly winces at that comment, and then only manages a weak "Oh" in response. Mark claps his back. "May I suggest some flowers and a very, very nice restaurant? Take the kids on a shopping spree? I think it's time to surrender, Major."
Beck and Johanssen shoot each other a glance at their pilot's slightly worried face. Beck tries to reassure him. "Hey, you're lucky she loves you so much. You'll be fine. And you're giving your little ones another reason to call you their hero."
"Thanks, Chris," Rick replies gratefully, and the tension leaves his features. Mark shakes his head at Beck, ever the hopeless romantic.
"Speaking of children," Alex starts, looking between Melissa and Mark. "Mine came in earlier and almost tackled me to the ground. What happened outside?"
Melissa grins mischievously at the botanist, certainly planning to expose his sappy ways.
"Watney just couldn't shut up about how great you are," she says, making the others chuckle. "No, in all seriousness, he was really great with them."
Yup, evil, that one.
Mark feels his face heat up when everyone looks at him approvingly. "Lily just needed a bit of cheering up, that's all. A tip from Uncle Mark: never tell a little girl you're going to get her a castle. She will remember."
Alex smiles sheepishly when his wife throws him a berating glance, and Mark rolls his eyes when the others just won't stop staring.
"Before you ask, which of course you will because you are nosy little shits," he starts, and when Beth scoffs loudly, he tries really hard to keep the smile off his face, because damn it, he can't stay mad at these guys, "No, there'll be no children for me in the foreseeable future. I like being the cool uncle plenty, thanks very much."
"We're sorry, Mark," Beck replies, "but you're so great with people, it just seems logical that you'd have a family."
"Yes, well, I might have to find a wife, then," and before anyone can tell him how much of a catch he is, he adds, "I'm not nearly as old as you think. I still have some time before I wither away, you guys."
"Hey, why don't you ask out Annie Montrose?" Rick suggests, and everyone bursts out laughing.
"I think she's still mad at you for the whole picture debacle, no?" Vogel recalls, making everyone laugh even harder.
"What did she think, that I was just going to stand there as if I was getting my driver's license renewed?"
"A wave or a normal thumbs up would've been fine," Helena tells him, but Mark just waves it away.
"Besides, I'm not sure Mark could handle Annie. She's a badass," Beth counters, and this time he directs a shocked look at the sysop.
"Beth, how you wound me! I'm all for strong women!"
"It's why he likes us so much, right, Watney?" Melissa interjects, grinning again.
"Yes! Honestly, Beth, is this Beck corrupting you? You know, if we're going to talk about anyone's love life, the obvious move is to go for you two! If anyone's moving forward, it's them," he says, pointing at the couple accusingly.
Rick leans closer to his friend and grabs his shoulders playfully. "The thing is, they're not as easy to agitate as you are."
Mark shoves Martinez in return and grumbles. Agitated. He wasn't agitated easily—he was a space pirate, for Christ's sake.
That was it. He was done with all of these suckers.
Spoiler alert: he wasn't.