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The treadmill whirred beneath his feet as Chris ran for his life. Around him, the gym is empty and silent, spare the looming presence of vast space that seemed to devour the whole room. It’s late at night aboard the Hermes according to the Earth clocks tracking their sleep cycles, and Chris couldn’t even think of sleeping a wink.
He had barely learnt to be okay with the fact that Mark was dead when suddenly, Mark was now alive. And they were coming back for him.
The Commander had sat him down more than once since then, to reiterate that it wasn’t his fault, that he was doing his job. That he protected the rest of his crew. The doctor in Chris knew she was right: if he hadn’t made that call then they would’ve kept looking for him, would’ve stayed until the MAV tipped over and left them stranded on Mars forever. But he was also a man. A man who knew Mark Watney all too well: the sound of his laugh, the brightness of his smile, and had traded it, willingly or not, for something else. What was it that Chris traded Mark’s life for? A chance to go home? Survival? A lifetime of guilt?
Chris’ feet quickened until his prolonged sprint made his lungs expand too far out, hurting against his ribcage. He slammed the stop button and leaned heavily against the handlebars, heaving as the treadmill slowed to a stop. The muscles in his legs burned and shook, but it wasn’t enough. He sat down on the treadmill, facing the empty window looking out into blackness. He was still struggling to catch his breath, which turned into something angrier, then sadder. Chris dug the heels of his hands into both eyes as he breathed.
Mark was going to hate him. Chris was going to have to run from this forever. He had failed as a doctor, as a crewmate, as Mark’s… friend. He had failed as someone who never wanted to fail anyone. There’s a painful lump in his throat when he swallowed.
Chris heard the soft click of shoes colliding with the floor as someone slid down from the ladder. He prayed it wasn’t the Commander again. She understood him, because she also made that decision to leave Mark behind, but she could never understand him, because he was Mark’s doctor. He was all of their doctors. He kept them safe. He didn’t want her to waste her breath on deaf ears anymore; Chris knew he had to live with it, this crushing guilt.
“Bit late to be up, doctor.”
It was Johanssen, quiet but clever, like she always was. Chris didn’t move, didn’t take his head from his hands as she moved closer to him, standing above him. “You need to rest up, Chris. We all need to be in top condition from here on out. Not that you need me to tell you.”
Chris found it in himself to sigh. “What am I gonna tell if I see him?”
“When you see him.” Johanssen corrected. “You tell him you came back for him. We all did.” Her hand fell onto his shoulder comfortingly, which felt strange because usually it would be the other way around, him and Mark comforting her. The times really have changed.
They were both silent for a while, until Chris lifted his head to look at her. She stared back at him.
“You can always change your vote,” she said, firm. Beth was different from the other crew members when it came to Chris. She didn’t pretend to know what he was going through, but she was always open to entertaining all of his ups and downs. She didn’t offer solutions, just companionship, even when his decisions burned him into the ground. “If you don’t want to go get him.”
“Jesus, Beth, I want to go get him,” Chris snapped. He shook his head and turned back to the window. Mark was somewhere out there, a speck in the universe, against all odds. “Of course I want to go get him.” He muttered, mostly to himself.
Beth sat down next to him. “Okay, good. I miss Mark,” she said. Simple. Chris had always been in awe of how easily she said it, in the early months of their Mars evacuation when they sat around and had group therapy to try relieve the pressure off each others’ backs. He could never say it, even when he knew it was a part of processing grief, he just couldn’t. Like something inside him was preventing him from processing said grief, like he wanted to be miserable forever. “I’ll tell him I love him when I see him.”
Chris could only muster a nod as his stomach twisted up, and suddenly the huge gym seemed too small for both their feelings. Mark has that effect on people, Chris’ brain helpfully supplied, and he wished he could erase all memories of Mark. It would sure make this a hell of a lot easier, a simple rescue mission with no strings attached. But the strings were attached, have been attached for years before they ever stepped foot on the Hermes.
“He’ll hate me.” It was the first time Chris had ever voiced this terrible thought out loud, with Herculean effort. His exhale was uneven, so shaky it sounded like he was dying. Beth turned to face him, but his body was frozen with a fixed gaze out into space.
“Chris.” Was all Beth said, sad, knowing, and unmoving.
———
He held it together until six hours after Mark boarded the Hermes. Mark was asleep in a drug aided slumber in Chris’ room, which acted as the sickbay. There’d been little fight about why Mark was getting the bed instead of the sickbay cot, because they both understood why. Mark had sunken slowly against the soft sheets and looked like he was about to cry, and Chris had to leave the room as soon as he made sure Mark was asleep so he wouldn’t break. He’d come this far.
He let his head fall against the paneling on the wall as he stood in dejection outside his own room. It had been so difficult, the whole thing, for everyone. Mark, alive, moving, not just a dot on a satellite image with a 17-minute delay. Hearing the same Mark they remember on Sol 18 but seeing a completely different man, thinner, weaker, withered with effort. Chris had been so delicate with him when he undressed Mark in the bathroom, felt like he was handling a glass sculpture. If Mark had noticed anything, he didn’t say it. They didn’t talk when Mark sat under the water and let Chris shower him clean.
To Chris, this Mark felt rebirthed. He felt like he had cleaned an infant, uncovering their anatomy for the first time, giving life to the flesh. Not that there was much life in Mark’s flesh, no, the life was in his eyes and in his tired smile, in the way he gave everyone a weak hug and a tearful greeting. When Chris patted Mark dry with a towel, they had made eye contact. Mark had looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just smiled. Chris had fought back tears and smiled back, running the towel carefully over Mark’s solid back. He was real and alive.
They hadn’t said anything of substance to each other, but it had only been six hours. They have a year to talk, trapped here in this huge metal space box. Selfishly, Chris hoped they wouldn’t talk at all. Wouldn’t have to address the way he declared Mark’s death, the sour untrue words still sitting in his mouth. He hoped that Mark would just let him rot with that terrible feeling, because he deserved it.
When Chris opened his eyes he saw Vogel walking towards him. Temporary panic set in as Chris remembered the way Vogel had looked at him like he was a child when he asked to be untethered if he couldn’t get to Mark. Like he was stupid, but an understandable kind of stupid. They were all a bit of understandably stupid when it came to Mark.
“Is he sleeping?” Vogel asked when he reached him. Chris nodded.
“I gave him some painkillers for his ribs, pulling all those Gs,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t seem to be in too much pain now. Or he is, and he’s not telling me.”
Vogel looked at the closed door to Chris’ room. “Never asks for help when he needs it,” he shook his head. Chris felt like half of it was directed at him. “Do you know if he’s okay?”
Chris shook his head. “I’m gonna start testing tomorrow because the medical team wants a full write up on his status. Hopefully he’s up for it.” He looked at Vogel, sadly. “He’s really weak,” he added quietly.
Vogel brought a hand out to pat Chris’ arm. “You are the best doctor. You will keep him safe for us.”
Chris inhaled sharply to hold back the familiar sharp sting in the corner of his eyes. He could only nod once, lest the dam in his heart burst. Vogel rubbed his back.
“Love is the best medicine, doctor, and Mark does not lack love here. Neither do you.”
Chris watched Vogel retreat to his own room before letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He fumbled for the switch on the wall to open his room door, to check if Mark is still alive. In the dark room, Chris could hear the rattling of Mark’s shallow breaths. He moved closer until he felt Mark’s warmth, pulled up a chair by the bed, and placed a gentle hand on his chest. It rose and fell, out of rhythm, but constant and reassuring. He felt Mark’s heart, a soft beating beneath his breathing, the one he thought had gave out on Mars. Chris closed his eyes and breathed to the rhythm of Mark’s still-kicking heart. Before he could drift off to a peaceful unawareness though, Mark jolted awake with a shock.
“Shit, Mark, you alright?” Chris jumped up, arms out, ready to brace. Mark just froze in bed until he figured out where he was and turned to face Chris, whose heart is drumming in his chest, feeling adrenaline down to his fingertips. “It’s just me, hey,” he soothed, hoping Mark doesn’t go manic.
Mark let out a harsh breath, finally. “Holy shit dude. I completely forgot.”
“I know,” Chris said softly. He helped Mark lean back in bed. “It’s normal. It’s going to be rough the first few nights.”
Mark huffed a tired laugh. “It was so quiet when I woke up I thought I was dead. I thought you were an angel,” he leaned his head to grin at Chris. “Too handsome.”
Chris couldn’t help but smile, despite himself.
“You know, a lot of noise on Mars. Like, in the Hab and in the Rover and all that. When it’s quiet something had gone wrong. I’d be dead.” Mark’s voice sounded a bit far away. He was either hung up on the drugs or was doing some serious disassociating. Either way, Chris needed him to go back to sleep.
“Try to get as much sleep as you can.” He moved Mark back down until his head hit the pillow. “We need you to return to a regular circadian rhythm.” Mark sighed dramatically and shuffled under the sheets. “I’ll be here the entire night,” Chris finished.
Mark looked up at that. In the dark room, Chris still saw the speck of light in his eyes, wanted to shrink under his gaze. “Okay. Thanks.”
Chris nodded, thankful for the darkness that masked the way his lip quivered at the sound of Mark’s voice, raw and real. He reached down to give Mark’s calloused hand a light squeeze.
———
Chris watched Mark chat easily with Martinez, and he tried to ignore the massive bout of deja vu that crept up on him. The sight of them leaning against the kitchen counter with their coffee mugs and laughing excitedly together had defined the 414 days during the outbound trip, had become domestic for all of them. The coffee machine hissed, and Martinez passed Mark a mug.
“Beck, you want one?” Martinez called, turning to where Chris was slumped in a chair, cutting his deck of cards mindlessly. He smiled and shook his head. “Oh, really buddy? You’re passing on coffee that you don’t even have to make?”
Chris huffed a laugh, joining the two halves of the deck together. Mark grinned with his elbow propped up on the counter, sipping his coffee. “Can’t let the caffeine distract me.” He waved the deck in the air, and Martinez laughed, nudging Mark.
“Dr. Beck here thinks he can still win at blackjack, someday. Quit while you’re ahead, doc.” Martinez walked over to take a seat at the Rec room table, motioning Chris over. Chris made a dramatic show of sighing and getting up to slide into the seat next to Martinez.
“Vogel, come help us out here,” Martinez called to Vogel from the other side of the Rec. Vogel put his book down and stood up amusedly, walking over to the table. Chris slid the deck of cards over to their appointed dealer. Martinez looked up at Mark, who was hovering above Chris’ right shoulder. “You wanna get in on this action, Mark?”
Mark grinned, but before he could answer Johanssen slid down from the ladder into the Rec. “You playing blackjack without me?” she called, jogging to the table to take her rightful seat next to Chris. “Undefeated, by the way.”
Chris narrowed his eyes at her. “You cheat, Johanssen.”
“I don’t. Tell him I don’t,” Johanssen nudged Vogel, who just shrugged.
“I’ll sit this one out. I don’t think doc here wants me gambling, anyway,” Mark said. He leaned down against Chris to watch Vogel shuffle the deck, his arm perched on Chris’ shoulder like it’s second nature. Chris tried to ignore the way his heart hammered against his chest, knew that it was good for Mark to get accustomed to human touch again.
Slowly, everything had started to mend itself. Mark had stopped hiding from the crew after the first couple months, stopped spending all day in Chris’ room playing chess on his personal laptop, started having meals with everyone again. He had readjusted to social life like Chris (and his therapist) had directed him to. Slowly, Mark stopped being bitter and the crew stopped treating him like a stranger. He started doing lab work again, with Chris watching him from the corner of the nursery amongst the shelves of plants. Things relaxed, between the two of them, between Mark and everyone else.
It scared Chris, in a way, that their old Mark was back like he never left. He was trying to get accustomed to the newfound joy of having him back, when he hadn’t even started to acknowledge the temporary grief during the months Mark was dead. It was moving way too fast, way too much all at once, and Chris… all he could do was avoid it. Will it into nonexistence. Pretend that Mark’s lingering arm there on his shoulder was just that, and that it wasn’t why he was so out of breath.
Mark nudged Chris’ foot from beneath the table, who turned to look up at him. Martinez had started bickering with Johanssen over her “obvious card counting techniques.”
“Hit. I counted,” Mark whispered.
“I don’t trust you,” Chris whispered right back.
“Fuck you.”
Chris grinned to himself. “You can’t count cards, Mark. You were doing botany in school.”
Mark faked an shocked gasp, clutching his chest and sloshing the coffee in his other hand. “Are you insulting my science?”
Chris laughed, which made Mark laugh. When Chris turned back to the table, he found Martinez staring at him. It made him jump, but he was careful not to bump Mark. Martinez’s watchful eyes just stared at him while Johanssen pretended to think very hard about her next move. Chris stared back, unsure of what Martinez is thinking. Martinez knew Mark best, though, being his best friend and all. He just raised his eyebrows at Chris, then dropped them when Johanssen decided on a move. His eyes flickered away, and just like that, whatever telepathic message he was trying to tell Chris disappeared.
When the game was unceremoniously ended by the Commander telling them to get on with their tasks, Martinez caught up with Chris on the way out of the Rec.
“What was that?” he asked. Chris gave him a look.
“What was what?”
Martinez sighed, did a quick sweep of their surroundings. Light panels hummed and the gravity center rotated around them. It was an awkward place to talk, perhaps, but there was no one around.
“You think you can keep this up?”
It was like Martinez was choking him, all of a sudden, with just those words. Chris blinked a few times, tried to clear the knot that had formed in his throat by swallowing. Martinez just looked at him, patient and knowing. Knowing.
“I’ll answer that for you: you can’t. You can’t do this to yourself, Chris. You- you’re gonna kill yourself at this rate.” Martinez continued, voice hushed but urgent. “Why do you like to torture yourself, man?”
“It’s not that,” Chris muttered. His eyes met the floor beneath his floating feet. “I just— my job is to keep Mark safe, okay? I fucked up, and I’m going to fix it. Until we get home.”
Martinez shook his head in exasperation. “Why do you not want to see yourself happy, for once? You think Mark wants you beating yourself up over this?”
“Of course not, but—”
“Don’t you think Mark deserves to know?” Martinez insisted.
Chris clenched his fist, unclenched it slowly. He did breathing exercises until his head stopped spinning. “Not yet.”
Martinez sighed loudly. “Chris, you keep trying to run when we’re all right here. You love him, and sooner or later it’s going to come out. I just fucking dread that day where you burn yourself out with this… fucked up grief you carry.” He sounded angry, which Chris supposed he deserved.
“We’re just looking out for you. I love you, man.” Martinez shook his head again, reached a hand out to squeeze Chris’ shoulder.
“I know, Rick.” Was all Chris managed. Rick moved closer, pulled him into a hug. Chris happily melted into his solid arms. The arms of a friend, a brother.
“I don’t want you to carry that shit with you. You need to talk to him.”
“Rick…”
“Chris, just try. We’re all stuck here together, so just try.”
Out of the corner of his eye, past Rick’s shoulder, Chris spotted the Commander standing in the hallway to the Rec. Her watchful, stern eyes looked back at him. It was almost sad, the quiver of her brows.
———
Round rolled the halfway mark of the trip home, they had cake to celebrate. The data dump came later that evening, then the weekly personal video calls. Chris bumped into the Commander on his way down into the Rec for his turn as she just finished her call home.
“How’s Robert?” Chris smiled. She leaned against the ladder as he came to the computer to put in his login details.
“Rather brilliant. Repainted our house, apparently.” Commander Lewis said, a hint of confusion in her voice. “Although I’m not too sure why it needed repainting.”
Chris laughed. “They do that. Just get jittery and alone. Last week I heard my mom put all my baby pictures out into my old bedroom, like some kind of creepy shrine.”
She laughed at that, then looked at him with those piercing eyes. “You’re gonna talk to Amy?”
“Always,” Chris said with a sigh. “She can’t go a day without me.”
“I’m sure she thinks differently.”
“Ah, well. Younger siblings are like that.” Chris turned to her with a shrug. Commander Lewis looked like she was about to leave, her hand moving on the ladder rung, but then she stopped.
“Are you doing better, Beck?”
It was a charged question, heavy with implications. Commander Lewis made conversations feel like puzzles, careful and subtle to not cut anyone. Chris froze.
“Better how?” He asked slowly. She’s talking about Mark, of course. Everything is about Mark, but nothing is about Mark. Chris tried to assess how much she knew, how much she saw after he had that conversation with Martinez months ago. It terrified him to think that their Commander might know about something so close to his soul.
“In general.” Her voice is soft; for the first time Chris heard a caring mother and not a superior officer. Her shoulders sank slightly as she relaxed around him, a gesture of goodwill. She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been doing better.”
Chris’ fingers found the edge of the table he was leaning on and gripped on for dear life. “I’m glad to hear that,” he whispered. His throat ran dry. “I’ve been okay.”
Commander Lewis nodded again. She seemed to ponder his response for a while. “I see now, when we’re so close to home, that Watney is the product of his brilliance and not the proof of my mistake. And I’ve been doing good.” She gave him a careful smile before turning and climbing up the ladder, out of the Rec.
She left Chris a mess of unorganized thoughts and unexplained feelings, the weight of her words sinking to the bottom of his stomach like an anvil thrown into an endless ocean. He found that the weight was comforting, in a weird way, as he took a deep breath and turned to the screen to call Amy. Boy do they have stuff to talk about.
When he returned to his room, he found Mark sitting up in bed reading on his tablet, the blood pressure monitor pumping his right arm. Mark looked up and smiled.
“Hey. The last one was no good so I’m taking it again,” Mark explained. Chris was suddenly so thankful that all his patients aboard the Hermes had PhDs. He spun his desk chair around and sat down to face Mark.
“What’re you reading?”
“Your dumb New England Journal of Medicine issue. And I thought Johanssen was the biggest nerd on board.” Mark showed him the tablet.
“What the— you’re on my tablet?” Chris reached out to take it from Mark. “Stop going through my stuff.”
Mark grinned. “Old habit. Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone about your Playboy magazines that you left on Mars.”
“I don’t— okay,” Chris just shook his head in defeat and put his tablet on his desk, away from Mark’s curious little fingers. “I wish we’d left you on Mars.”
“Hey!” Mark complained, leaning his head back. The blood pressure monitor beeped and relaxed around Mark’s bicep, who leaned up to read it. Chris picked up his tablet and opened it to Mark’s medical files, the ones that are constantly getting sent back to Houston for monitoring. “130 over 80.”
Chris entered the number into the day’s blood pressure reading column. “Someone’s getting healthier.”
“I bet you want me on Mars so bad. Weren’t you the one who called my death?” Mark joked. Chris stopped, staring at the words on Mark’s medical file. A sudden silence cut between them, and Chris could tell Mark was taken aback, awkward now. He burned a hole into the tablet with his gaze. Mark recoiled a bit, out of the corner of his eyes.
“I was,” Chris said finally, still not looking up. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It was all out here in the open now, Chris realized with terrible dread. That Mark would finally know.
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” Mark said quickly, voice soft and worried. “I’m sorry, that was a dumb joke. I guess I’m still relearning how my jokes land.” He tried with a light laugh. It didn’t work, Chris was still frozen in place, still wishing he was literally anywhere else. Even on Mars.
“Chris—”
“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered, finally. He squeezed his eyes shut. “All anyone ever tells me is that it wasn’t my fault and that I did the right thing, but… I was being selfish. When I called your death I just wanted it to be over, because I thought I lost you. I didn’t want to have to be in pain, wondering if you were okay or not.”
There was a beat of horrible silence.
“I thought you died, and I thought that I killed you.” He looked down at Mark’s pixelated picture in the corner of the file on the tablet and ran his fingernail over it. “So I’m sorry. None of this would have happened if I was willing to give a little more to you. Give… my life. Everyone’s lives.”
“I would’ve done it, too. If it wasn’t for the Commander looking for you and being the last one on board, I would’ve stayed. I would’ve found you.”
His vision was blurry. A teardrop landed on Mark’s face on the tablet screen.
“You did find me.” Mark sounded so sure Chris hurt. “Chris, you came back for me.”
Mark stood up and took Chris’ shoulder. He pried the tablet softly out of Chris’ grasp and placed it on the table, and now Chris had no choice but to look up at him. “You think I’d let you die for me?”
Mark’s hand was on the side of his neck now, rough skin pressing against his pulse. The firmness of his palm and the sadness in his eyes, Chris remembered when they were things he’d only see in his sleep. Restless, dreadful sleep.
Chris shook his head. “Would you?”
“Hell no.” Mark smiled a little. “Listen, you pulled me out of space. I was out there, dazed and unaware, broken ribs, malnutrition, and you were the angel that came down to get me. That’s all I think about, when I think of Mars.”
He leaned down, wrapped his arms around Chris. Chris let himself be held against Mark’s chest before putting his own arms around him, pulling. “You risked your life for me. If anything, that makes us even,” Mark added with a soft giggle.
Chris couldn’t find it in himself to laugh, but he appreciated it. He leaned his cheek closer against Mark’s neck to let him know. “And I love you,” he whispered, tearful and broken. His voice felt raw, like he had screamed the words.
“How could I forget?” Mark said. His thumb ran soothingly over Chris’ shoulderblade. “I’ll be honest, I was kinda scared you had stopped.” He admitted quietly. “I’m not the same guy you fell in love with. I might not be… loveable anymore.”
Chris just hugged Mark tighter. “And yet I love you.”
Mark pulled away, kneeling down so he’s eye to eye with Chris. “If I had to do it all over again, I would. Because I know you’d be waiting for me, and I have someone I love to come home to.”
He leaned in closer, fingers softly brushing the hair at Chris’ nape. Chris didn’t run. He let Mark press a soft kiss to his lips. Mark stopped, then leaned back in for another. Chris felt his hesitation, then realized how much space Mark had been giving him to deal with all his feelings, the past six months. How much Mark had been holding back. How much Mark was probably worried, sick to his stomach when he wondered if Chris still felt the same way after everything.
“Thank you, for everything.” Mark whispered.
There was so much Chris could say. Mark kissed him again and told him that he did nothing wrong. Strangely, this time, Chris believed the words.