AN: Hello! This monstrosity is my first foray into The Martian/Johanbeck fic. I tried to meld plot elements from both the book and the movie, and tried to keep the science accurate and realistic (or in line with the movie/book at least).
All errors are my own, no infringement intended, etc.
i.
This is the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life, Johanssen thinks, trying to act natural and breathe normally as the Ares III crew introductions continue. She hears most of what he's saying - Yale, Air Force Reserves, SpaceX - but it's hard to concentrate on the details when they come out of a slightly smirking mouth framed by a square jaw and preppy dark hair. It should be illegal for someone to be smart and successful and also insanely attractive, she decides.
She wonders why she's never seen him around before, but he's from the candidate class three years ahead of her and has already been to space a few times, which she imagines keeps a guy busy and away from the tech operations in which she's been fully immersed.
It's just as well that they haven't run into each other before, though, since she might have passed out at the sight of him.
Good thing they need to train for two years and then spend nine months cramped on a spaceship together.
Shit, she thinks to herself.
ii.
Beck suppresses a chuckle as he files out of the conference room behind the crewmates he'd just met.
As the mission's flight surgeon, he's aware of the physical attributes the selection committee focuses on for Ares program candidates. She definitely has them - petite, so as not to require much food in the event of an emergency, and fit enough to adapt to demanding environments and changes in gravity. Plus, her stoic demeanor indicates that her heart rate remains steady even under pressure. And it obviously doesn't hurt that she was apparently a child prodigy turned NASA badass genius programmer. Anyhow, she definitely has the whole package.
As a heterosexual man, it's hard not to notice how nicely that package is put together.
Good thing his job for the next three years will involve monitoring her physical health in a detached and professional manner.
Fuck, he says silently to the hallway ceiling.
iii.
Training for the mission starts the following week.
It's weird, being under such a microscope. Teams of people monitor the crew's every activity, to the point where Johanssen worries that soon she'll have absolutely zero privacy.
Some of the crew members are used to close scrutiny from their military service and SpaceX missions, but it's completely unfamiliar to her. Not to mention extra uncomfortable since Beck is the crew's flight surgeon, and part of his duties will include monitoring changes in certain biomedical factors during the trip. Which means observing baseline values on Earth before they leave.
So yeah. The smart, friendly, and incredibly guy she's trying not to have a crush on knows how much she weighs and how often she uses the bathroom. And will be watching for changes in those, among other things, over the next several years.
Eventually she starts to open up to her crewmates, but it's an adjustment for someone who's always been a loner and she tends to keep to herself during her dwindling free time. One evening for dinner she grabs something to eat from the training facility's cafeteria, automatically taking a seat at her usual small table along the far wall.
Bringing up a Wired article on her phone, she starts on her salad while reading. Moments later, she hears the unmistakable sound of Mark Watney's laughter radiating from the center of the large seating area. Glancing over she sees the gregarious botanist/engineer gesturing wildly as he recounts a story to Beck, who sits across the table laughing quietly. They're a little too far away for Johanssen to eavesdrop on the entire tale, but she thinks she hears Watney say something about marijuana plants and hippie ecology students. She rolls her eyes and keeps reading until he practically shouts the words "bong water" and laughs so loudly that everyone in the cafeteria looks over at their table. Beck is clearly still amused, but also seems to encourage Watney to quiet down; Watney looks around and gestures as if saying "so what?"
That's when they see her.
Beth has been chuckling to herself about how typical the whole scene is - Watney drawing attention to himself with humor and Beck trying not to enjoy it too much. But her face goes blank when she realizes she's been spotted.
The two men confer quietly for a second before they start waving.
"Hey, Johanssen! You should come sit with us!" Watney shouts. Beck nods and motions for her to come over.
Now all the other employees and visitors in the cafeteria are looking at her instead of her crewmates and she basically wants to crawl into the floor and die of embarrassment.
But not before killing those two idiots.
Reluctantly, she gathers her things and stands up, crossing the room to join them. Thankfully the other cafeteria patrons go back to their own meals and conversations and stop staring at her.
"You guys drive a hard bargain," she says with a sarcastic snicker as she arrives at their table.
"What do you mean?" Watney laughs, shrugging.
Beck, meanwhile, has stood to pull out the chair next to him and is waiting for Beth to sit down.
"You don't need to do that, you know," she tells him with an indifferent glance as she accepts the seat.
"What if I want to?" he asks kindly.
Before the shy programmer can respond, Watney chimes in. "You haven't realized by now that Beck gets a weird rush from being overly nice to people? Something we'll all need to get used to."
Taking his own seat once again, Beck snickers. "You think I should be a ball-buster like you and Martinez? I'm sure the selection bigwigs didn't want another one of those on the ship."
"Hey, speaking of which, where is Martinez?" Johanssen asks. She'd grown used to seeing the three men together nearly all the time.
"His wife wanted to go out for a fancy dinner. He said he thinks it 'might' be their anniversary," Watney explains with a flourish that earns laughter from Johanssen and Beck. Martinez and his wife have been together since high school and he's the last person in the known universe who'd forget an anniversary... but the first person to joke about such a thing.
"So, what about you two crazy kids?" Watney asks through a mouthful of chocolate pudding. "Any plans on this fine Friday eve?"
For a split-second Johanssen freezes, worried that Watney is insinuating that she and Beck might have plans together. I can't have been that obvious, she assures herself silently. Nor has the doctor shown anything but professional cordiality since training started.
Thankfully Chris isn't phased by the question and simply answers. "A few of the medical oversight team members are meeting me here in little bit to go over this week's biometrics results." Done with his meal, he's moved his tray aside and is now shuffling a deck of cards he produced from his briefcase.
"Okay, lame, but not unexpected from our overachieving doctor," Watney assesses. "And you, hacker prodigy? There some programming emergency that requires your attention?"
She shrugs. "Some of the frontroom techs think a few sections of code can be shortened so that they compile faster. I told them I'd take a look at it."
Watney looks disappointed. "You're both working on a Friday night," he says, shaking his head.
"Why? What are you doing?" Beth asks.
"Going out by myself, I guess," the botanist scoffs, wiping his mouth with a napkin before tossing it atop his tray of empty containers. "You two super-nerds have fun working; I'll be off socializing with people who have nothing to do with NASA."
"Later, man," Beck chuckles as Watney stands and leaves them.
Johanssen's eyes narrow. "He knows we have a meeting with Henderson at 10 tomorrow, right?"
Beck nods. "Don't let the nonchalance fool you. Watney's idea of 'going out' involves sitting at a bar nursing one beer for three hours while talking to the bartender about sports and, like, maybe hitting on a woman if he gets up the nerve." Beck shuffles the cards again. "Hardly a belligerent night of partying."
"I see," she offers with a nod, instantly feeling super lame. She can't even remember the last time she was in a bar.
It's also awkward sitting next to Beck with no one across the table.
"You know he was just joking about the nerd thing, right? Watney's as entrenched in his work and science as anybody here. He'll just never pass up an opportunity to give someone a hard time."
"Oh, yeah, I know," she answers, trying to play it off.
If nothing else, Beck is secure in his steadfast dedication to his work; she's letting Watney's teasing get to her. As if she needs another reason to feel nervous around him.
She wants to ask about the cards but instead simply finishes her dinner in silence.
Strangely, though, the silence isn't uncomfortable. Someone else would have tried to force a conversation; Beck merely sits, calmly shuffling his cards and allowing her to finish her meal. It's as if he understands her preference for quiet and her tendency towards shyness.
Once she finishes eating she stands, grabbing her backpack and tray of trash. "Enjoy your meeting, overachieving doctor," she offers, trying her hand at playful banter.
He looks up, flashing an amused smirk that threatens to make her knees weak. "Good night, hacker prodigy."
She grins, trying not to blush as she leaves the table.
iv.
Beck is relieved when the first few weeks on Hermes are uneventful, health-wise. Short-term issues during space travel include disruptions to circadian rhythms and bouts of motion sickness. No amount of simulation can truly prepare the body for the length of exposure to minimal gravity their mission entails, so he needs to monitor the crew closely and be prepared for anything as the trip goes on.
He's especially careful to check on Johanssen and Watney since it's their first time in space. He and Mark have developed almost a brotherly shorthand; Chris knows that the other man will speak up if he's having a medical issue.
As for Johanssen... it's nice to have an excuse to talk to her more. Since the start of training he's learned a lot about her, and they definitely have a rapport, but it's mostly all-business and he's wondering what it'll take for her to open up more.
Of course, he silently chastises himself whenever his mind starts strategizing ways to get closer to her. There's the no-fraternization policy, for one thing; the Commander's direct and explicit warning not to go near her, for another; not to mention the obvious fact that they're all stuck on a spaceship for a really long time and therefore any unrequited romantic advances will make for a horribly uncomfortable disruption of the crew dynamic.
Nope, Beck realizes that it'll need to be a slow play, with any overt gestures waiting until they return to Earth. It's okay; he's a patient guy. In the meantime he can work the friendly-colleague angle. It's not like he needs to stretch for material, either – between her excessive caffeine consumption, night-owl habits, and overly intense workouts… he's all set.
"Your heart rate stay under 200?" he asks one day as she's finishing a run on the gym's treadmill.
"Yeah, it did," she pants, still feeling the effects of her workout. "You think I want a repeat of the lecture you gave me last time?"
Beck gently grabs her arm before she can breeze past him out of the gym. "Hey," he says softly, "I'm just looking out for you. Unfortunately I'm the only doctor around for millions of miles. Something happens to you and Martinez has to take over SysOps; I can't have that on my conscience."
She laughs, and he's glad that the joke has disarmed her.
"Seriously, though. They weren't kidding during training about how we need to keep track of even the smallest variations."
"Yeah I gotcha," she assures him, then looks away shyly. "Sorry. For being difficult."
"Nah, you like your privacy. I understand."
She freezes for a moment, then smiles warmly. "I'll see you later, Doc."
He hopes she doesn't notice that he's blushing as she leaves.
Their free time seems to overlap a lot, so he learns her usual patterns and habits - when she heads to the gym, where on the ship she likes to curl up with a book, how she takes her coffee.
"That won't keep you up at night?" he asks one afternoon as she's making herself a cup.
"This weak-ass excuse for coffee? Nah."
She seems more relaxed, like she knows he's just making conversation this time.
Later that same day, she gingerly sits next to him on the rec room couch.
"Okay, I have to ask," she begins. "What's with the cards?"
He's completely caught off guard that she's approaching him so casually. Sure, their exchanges have gradually gotten more friendly but he didn't expect her to seek him out this way.
He's glad she has, of course.
When he doesn't answer, she flicks her gaze down to the deck in his hands in a way that makes her eyes look really sultry and delays his response yet another few seconds.
"Uhh... it- it's the math," he stammers, sitting up a little.
"Math?" she repeats as a question, clearly curious.
"Yeah. It's never come naturally to me, so in college I wanted to find a way to train that part of my brain. I had some friends who were into gambling so I read about card-counting. Whenever I had free time I'd deal out a few hands of blackjack and work through the odds in my head."
She cocks an eyebrow. "And now? You just sit around on your spaceship shuffling them?" She bites her lip, then nods down at the deck again. "You deal first."
Sitting up, he deals five hands plus the dealer's space.
"Okay so we have dealer showing 7, and five 10-point value cards in the dealt hands. That leaves nine 10-point cards in the deck. Twelve cards dealt out of 52 means there are 40 left, plus the face-down dealer's card..."
She talks through the numbers with a deftness expected from someone with her computer science background, easily arriving at a decision to hit or stand on each hand. Four of the five hands are winners.
"That's actually really fun," she declares afterward.
"Nerd," he says with an embellished roll of his eyes.
"Said the guy who's been doing this for fifteen years," she scoffs in response, reaching for the cards and shuffling them quickly. "I'm dealing for you now."
She lets him work out the math himself even though he's somewhat slower at it than she was. All of his hands win after the dealer space busts.
"Ooh, got lucky there," Beth says.
He licks his lips as their eyes meet. "I usually do." His heart rate speeds in anticipation of how she'll take the double meaning. So far he's saved all semi-lewd retorts for Watney and Martinez.
Johanssen looks down, blushing. "I'll bet," she fires back, quietly yet with conviction.
He feels his own face turning red as well. After another beat of silence he clears his throat, then gathers the cards. "My turn to deal?"
She nods, biting her lip and tucking her hair behind her ear.
v.
Johanssen had to muster up all of her nerve to ask Beck about his ubiquitous deck of cards. He always makes random conversation when they bump into each other during free time, so she decided to go out on a limb and initiate for a change.
She's glad she did.
They play his makeshift blackjack game a few times per week, basically whenever they both have free time. (No one else asks to join in; nor does he suggest they expand the game to include others. She's happier about this than she'd ever admit.)
Three weeks after the first time they played, he decides they need to make it more interesting.
"More interesting? How do you mean?" she asks, tucking her legs up underneath her on her chair.
"A little friendly wagering to keep the games competitive, maybe?"
"But how are we supposed to do that? I'm sure gambling for money is against regulations." Not that either of them brought cash for a trip to outer space.
"Ah, yes, but NASA doesn't say anything about games with a points system."
"I see," she drawls, nodding. "So we'll keep score of winning hands, and the player with the most points at the end of a round wins... what?"
"The right to assign the loser to do his or her chores for the day, or something. To be determined before each round."
"Mmm..." she nods, pursing her lips in concentration.
Beck knits his brow, concerned. "You don't like the idea?"
"Nah, I'm just thinking about how unfair it is that you're going to be doing my laundry for the rest of the mission." She lets her statement hang in the air for a beat before giving up her deadpan expression in favor of a self-satisfied grin.
Chris raises both eyebrows. "Oh really?
"Just sayin'..." Beth offers with a shrug, very subtly batting her eyelashes. (She's not sure when she became this coy, flirtatious girl.)
He wrinkles his nose and squints in mock derision. "All right, it's on." Then he deliberately places the deck of cards on the table in front of her. "Your turn to deal first. A round of five hands each; loser does the winner's laundry."
As competitive as Beck can be, he's apparently a very gracious loser. Johanssen adds that to her growing list of things she likes about him.
vi.
One night during their initial deceleration towards Mars, he can't sleep. He knows it's because Beth convinced him to drink coffee in the afternoon. He'd be mad if she hadn't looked totally cute while teasing him for his "boring" cup of black French roast.
Realizing that laying in bed isn't doing him any good, he decides to go for a walk (and possibly a float) around the ship.
He's surprised to find her perched cross-legged on a couch in the rec, staring (literally) into space.
"Well well well," he drawls. "If it isn't Beth 'impervious to caffeine' Johanssen."
"It's not the caffeine," she insists, pointing into the distance. "Do you see it?"
"Uh, yes I see it," he answers, then sits next to her. "Hard to miss the red planet from this close."
"I just never thought... It's such a big achievement, you know? So many people worked so hard on these missions, and to be a part of it - to be this part of it..."
"Mmm-hmm." He nods in agreement, not wanting to say too much.
They continue gazing in silence until the ship's rotation temporarily obstructs their view. Then she turns to look at him.
"Did you ever think you'd be here? Five days away from setting foot on Mars?"
He blows out a breath. "I'd hoped so, yeah."
Johanssen snickers. "Of course you did. I forgot I'm sitting next to Mr. Lifetime Overachiever - no, Dr. Lifetime Overachiever."
"Hey! Lots of little kids want to be astronauts when they grow up."
"Right, and how many of them actually get to space? Multiple times?!"
"Well, what I was going to say is that I wanted to be an astronaut when I was, like, nine. And then I kinda forgot about that since it didn't seem incredibly likely. But liking science led me to biology and med school-"
"And your desire to emulate super heroes led you to the Air Force, and ultimately NASA," Johanssen supplies with a smirk.
"It was my med school loans, actually," Beck sputters, laughing, "but I guess you could say I came out ahead. Other than routinely risking my life and everything."
Johanssen rolls her eyes. "Please. You love the danger." Mars is coming back into view and they both look straight ahead out the window again. "I never thought I'd be doing this."
"Even after you, oh, I don't know, designed the entire Hermes operating system?" He tries to respond in kind by chiding her for her equally impressive resume.
"Especially after that," she tells him. "They usually want us code-monkeys on the ground to deal with problems from Houston."
Beck feels an urge to tell her in no uncertain terms that she's more than a "code monkey" – incredibly smart and more than qualified for her roles on the mission. But he knows that she knows, the hint of self-doubt in her voice aside.
So he offers a simpler sentiment. "Well, I'm glad they sent you up with us."
Then he slides his arm around her shoulder.
He doesn't even realize he's done it until he feels her stiffen in surprise.
Determined to act natural, he manages to keep from tensing up even though he's freaking out inside.
Thankfully, she relaxes against him quickly. "Me too." Still staring straight ahead out the window, she leans her head on his shoulder.
He's afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything, but after several minutes he grows concerned that the silence has stretched into uncomfortable. (Rare, for them, but not impossible.) He's about to shift so he can at least make eye contact and assess her reaction to what's happening, but his movement causes her to slump further into him.
She's asleep.
A wide smile spreads across his face; it's a good sign when someone with insomniac tendencies feels relaxed enough to fall asleep against you, right?
Then he feels like a complete creep, as though he's somehow taking advantage of her state.
"Beth? Beth!" he whispers in her ear.
"Mmmm?" she mumbles into his chest.
"You fell asleep. Let's get you back to your room." He hopes it sounds more like a helpful suggestion and not like he's trying to get her in bed.
"Mmmph, no," she groans sleepily. "Just stay with me here."
With this request he exhales. He isn't exactly sure what's happening between them but getting to know Beth has made him want to make her happy in whatever way she needs. "Okay." He shifts so that he's leaning back on the arm of the couch, Beth still half-sprawled against him.
He actively avoids pondering whether or not this counts as fraternizing. Still, he sets his watch alarm to go off before their mandated wakeup time so that they can make it back to their respective rooms before the Commander gets up.
vii.
Johanssen knows it's wrong, but she's almost giddy with excitement on Sol 18 when the rest of the crew sets off for surface operations, leaving her and Beck alone in the Hab. They have work to do, obviously, but it provides the opportunity for more conversations in close physical proximity.
They never talk about what happened that night on the Hermes three weeks prior, nor on several subsequent nights when their card games and playful banter gave way to... something else. His index finger tracing patterns on her knee under the table; her head on his shoulder as they watch a movie in her quarters. Beth feels like a college freshman again, reveling in attentions from a cute guy without daring acknowledge them out loud, musing internally about where it might go.
She figures their mutual silence is strategic; if they don't talk about what's happening between them, they don't need to address whether it violates the no-fraternization rule. And they don't need to acknowledge underlying temptations that definitely violate various NASA policies.
When the mission started, she'd had no thoughts about or plans for a future beyond Ares III. Now, her mind frequently wanders a year down the line, when she and Beck will no longer be crewmates. As long as the status quo holds, she figures she can tide herself over until then with... whatever nerdy deep space flirting they've been doing lately. Then, maybe, once they're back on Earth, she can... what? Be a little more obvious about her interest in the hopes that he catches on? It's not like it's in her nature to just throw herself at a man.
Then she mentally kicks her own ass for getting so far ahead of herself. It's entirely possible that she's reading non-existent feelings into Beck's actions. She doesn't doubt that there's a mutual attraction, but they're in the middle of a dangerous mission to another planet which has a way of making everything seem heightened. Maybe it's as simple as "you're single, I'm single, and we're trapped on a spaceship for a year."
At any rate, it quickly becomes moot. Turns out there's nothing like a scrubbed mission and dead colleague to put the kibosh on a potential romance.
Johanssen had never formed any close relationships with coworkers. Hell, part of the reason she loved her previous line of work was that she could do most of it alone. Even after she started her company and hired employees, there wasn't much day-to-day interaction. But this mission is a lot different than simply programming. She's grown to love her crewmates like family; maybe even more than her actual family. Watching Watney get impaled by an antenna pole and swept off into the storm is terrifying. After the MAV's initial ascent, her heart sinks under the weight of the reality that he's just… gone.
They were all prepped for this; the possibility of losing a member of the crew was never out of the question, what with hurtling through outer space and exploring a hostile and desolate planet. But being told it's a possibility is a lot different from actually watching it happen.
The rest of them safely return to Hermes, following all the necessary docking protocols. Once they're aboard, Commander Lewis leads a debrief of the mission scrub so they can report back to Houston. Johanssen's heart breaks not only over the loss of Watney but the fact that their Commander blames herself for not being able to save him.
Over the next few days she feels Beck hovering; not intrusively close but still making his presence felt nearby her. In the kitchen during meals; in the rec room during downtime; in the gym during her runs.
But whatever was happening between them takes a backseat to the emptiness and sorrow that fills her even as the days go by. They still have months of travel before they return to Earth, and each of them struggles to stay focused amidst their grief. Avoiding a certain doctor's cool blue eyes and soft smirk is incidentally part of how Beth copes.
viii.
After a while, things start to feel better. Not great, but better.
They slowly slide back into previous modes, joking around like before. Beck is relieved when Johanssen starts routinely jawing with Martinez, taking up Watney's prior role. It's still hard, walking past his unused quarters - no one's gone in there since they left Mars - and seeing his nameplate around the ship, but it's become part of their collective reality. The acceptance phase of grief, he thinks (not that his medical training makes him an authority there).
Beck relays the progress in his weekly report to the NASA psychology team. They're still concerned about the crewmembers' mental states, but the video messages to the ship's doctor get far less frantic as the weeks tick by.
His report leaves out the part where Johanssen barely looks at him, their card games but a distant memory. And how he misses her wry sense of humor and quiet calming presence. And the part where he feels selfish for his own personal romantic predicament after his friend lost his life. At least we get to go home, he reminds himself, positing that things will sting a little less when he and Beth aren't in such close quarters anymore.
ix.
"Take some time to absorb this... Send all the questions you want and we'll answer them. Henderson out."
Johanssen can almost feel the charge in the air after the revelation that Watney survived the storm. Their collective sense of relief and joy is coupled with the Commander's obvious (yet unnecessary) guilt, and when she slinks away no one knows what to say.
Thereafter, their questions quickly bubble to the surface, but thankfully NASA quickly sends along a full report about Mark's ordeal and they all delve right in to reading it. Commander Lewis quietly takes her tablet to her quarters, but the others scatter about the rec room to pore over the document.
"Okay, okay, this is totally crazy," Beth announces, not even looking up from her screen. "The antenna pole pierced his suit, right where the bio monitor is, knocking everything but the temperature gauge offline, while the blood from his wound sealed the hole in his suit. Together, the blood and the pole prevented a full decompression." She looks up from her tablet and over at Martinez and Vogel. "I mean, what are the odds of that? It's gotta be, like, one in..." she calls upon her knowledge of statistics in the hopes of coming up with a number, but in truth she doesn't know enough to place a value on it. "...I don't know, but it's really really small odds."
"Yeah, fascinating," Martinez offers sarcastically as he stands up. "I'm gonna go email these clowns; ask them what other important shit they've been keeping from us."
The rest of them chuckle, and Johanssen goes back to reading the de-brief. A few minutes later Vogel also slips away. By then she's almost done; as she skims the last few pages she hears the sound of a tablet hitting solid plastic. She turns to see Beck lounging on one of the couches, his tablet askew on the coffee table next to him. By the time she ambles over he's shuffling his deck of cards, staring glumly ahead of him.
"What's with you?" she asks cautiously, perching at the table's edge.
He didn't even look up. "I told Commander Lewis that he was dead. I was sure of it. Maybe if I'd-"
Johanssen shook her head and interrupted him. "Oh, no, not you too. It's enough that Lewis blames herself for leaving him behind. You made the best recommendation possible based on the information available at the time."
"It didn't occur to me that the biomonitor or decompression alarm could go offline because of a direct hit that doesn't also compromise the subject. If the Commander and I had searched for a little while longer..."
"Then you two - and possibly the rest of us - might have actually died in the storm, or also been stranded on Mars!" She's annoyed that Beck has chosen to dwell on the negative aspect of otherwise wonderful news, and she doesn't care if she sounds insensitive. "Jeez, Chris, can't you just be glad that it turns out he's okay? And that there's a plan to rescue him?!"
Meanwhile, the doctor smiles and chuckles to himself.
"See?! You are capable of focusing on the positive. That shithead managed to survive impalement by a giant antenna pole and grow potatoes in the Hab." She shakes her head, still bemused by the tale of Watney's resourcefulness.
"Nah it's not just that," Beck says, serenely gazing up at her. "You're talking to me again."
Johanssen blushes, then steels her expression. "I never stopped talking to you," she insists.
"Mmm-hmm..." he offers in mock agreement, smirking as he sits up to face her. "Technically, you're correct. But this is the first real conversation we've had since leaving Mars, aside from yes-or-no questions related to mission tasks," he reminds her, then gently lays his hand on top of hers. "I missed you."
Her heart starts to pound when their eyes meet and she hopes he doesn't see how nervous he still makes her.
Desperate for a diversion she looks down at the deck of cards in his hand. "Do you wanna deal first? Or should I?"
x.
After they agree to the mutiny there's a flurry of activity in preparation for the course correction and other necessary adjustments. Johanssen is particularly busy disabling the remote override feature, with Martinez and Vogel assisting her.
Beck does his best to stay focused, completing his tasks and bringing Beth and the other guys coffee. Finally, she finishes the hack and goes to run routine diagnostics on the backup comm system, which she typically does from a standalone workstation adjacent to the rec.
Beck has the good fortune of being assigned free time while that's happening.
He needs to find her.
He was willing to take Watney's advice - tell her how he feels when they return to Earth - but now their trip is extended and he can't wait that long.
It's a gamble. He thinks she feels the same way but even if she does, things are complicated. There are NASA regulations about crew member fraternization and the damn Hippocratic oath and yet he suddenly feels like none of it matters because Mark almost died and the rest of them could die in any number of ways. Even if she doesn't want to do anything about it - about them - he can't go another day without telling her.
Or showing her, he thinks as he approaches the terminal where she's standing, her brow knitted in concentration.
"Hey!" she greets him easily when she notices he's there. "Aren't you free now? Do you need help syncing your laptop email again? You know, I-"
Beck interrupts, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss is firm and insistent, meant more for communication than indulgence (which he hopes they'll have time for later).
He pulls back and she's quiet, blinking.
"I, uh, I've wanted to do that for a while. There were a million things stopping me that somehow don't seem very important anymore."
Johanssen smiles. "Yeah, we're already mutinous rogues. Might as well add 'lustful fraternizers' to the list."
He chuckles, encouraged by her humor but worried that she might assume a purely physical intent on his part. "It's more than that," he insists. "Not that you're not super hot. Because you are."
She blushes and looks down at the floor momentarily.
He clears his throat and continues, subconsciously wringing his hands while trying to find the right words. "Spending time with you, just talking, or even not talking... it feels good. You understand me better than I thought anyone could, and maybe I'm imagining it or flattering myself but it seems like you've opened up to me, too, and lately I've been thinking that life is too fucking short, so-"
This time she cuts him off, reaching around to the back of his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. This one is chaste at first but her lips quickly soften against his mouth, a hand coming up to touch his cheek while her tongue quickly teases his.
"You're not imagining it," she says softly, stroking the side of his face and resting her palm on his chest.
He exhales, hands settling on her narrow hips. "Good."
They stand, absorbed in the moment and each other, for what feels like an hour (but is really only a minute or two). Then something behind them beeps and brings Chris back to reality.
"Do you need to, uh, get back to that?" He nods towards the workstation.
"Yeah. Yes. I do." Beth fumbles in extracting herself from him and returning to the computer terminal.
For his part Chris isn't any less awkward, shifting in place before finding his voice again. "I'll see you at dinner?"
Beth looks over, soft smile framed by a few loose strands of hair. "Mmm-hmm," she tells him with a nod.
Later that night he sneaks into her room for the first time. He doesn't want to, like, try anything, but now that they've acknowledged their feelings he wants to see her as much as possible.
They lay next to each other in her bunk, occasionally stealing kisses and making small talk about the day's events.
"You hesitated."
"Huh?" He props himself up on one arm so he can see her better.
"When we went around the table deciding whether to do the Rich Purnell maneuver." She turns on her side to face him. "You hesitated when it was your turn to vote, but I know that you'd already made up your mind to do it."
"Oh, that." He smooths a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was thinking about what everyone back home will say. My mom and sister and friends. Martinez's & Vogel's families; Lewis's husband. Your parents."
"The consummate doctor, always thinking of others," she assesses with a smirk.
"Well, I don't think it was ever a question whether any of us wanted to go back for Mark. Just a matter of whether it was possible. And executing the logistics."
"Yeah, logistics like executing a hit-or-miss resupply and spending an extra year and a half in space."
"Hey! I'll be in the airlock handling the resupply. It's not going to miss."
She smiles. "Has anyone ever told you that self-confidence is your best quality?"
He knows his answer will seem cheesy but he doesn't care.
"No one who mattered."
She kisses him, long and eager this time, her hand on his hip pulling his body flush against hers.
Despite the artificial gravity, he thinks he might float away.
xi.
It's the most nervous she's ever been. She trusts that Beck and Martinez have the skills to successfully dock the resupply probe with Hermes. But things happen. And while the likelihood of failure is extremely small, the consequences are catastrophic. She knows that her selection as the survivor will be a comfort to her parents, but the mode by which she'd survive the rest of the trip has put her on edge since Lewis told her about the contingency plan. Chris has been sympathetic but also respectful of her preference not to talk about it. (She flushes when thinking about how they now spend their not-talking time, secretly wrapped up in each other in one of their beds.)
She doesn't need to be in position on the bridge until just before the Taiyiang Shen launches, and with Lewis having given her a wide berth she finds herself wandering the gravity decks while the others undertake various preparations.
She's sliding down the ladder to the rec when she sees the airlock open. Obviously she knows that it's Beck who floats out, but she'd recognize him simply on sightwithout seeing his face; something about the graceful yet purposeful way he moves in his EVA suit.
Her cognitive brain tells her that stopping to stare at him through the window is a bad idea since it could compromise the secrecy of their relationship. Her emotional brain, however, keeps repeating Chris's declaration that life is too short (which seems all the more true when he's out on an EVA and she's trying to make it seem like she's not any more concerned for his safety than the rest of the crew is).
Given the higher-stakes nature of this EVA, she can't even bring herself to smile when he blows her a kiss.
She finally acknowledges it that night, after the resupply is successful. The ship is especially quiet, the rest of the crew exhausted after logging and unpacking the contents of the probe.
They're lying in her bunk, Chris's arm snaked around her shoulders and her head on his chest. "That was very sweet, you know. Before you docked the probe."
He wriggles his arm free, propping himself up on that elbow and looking down at her. "I wasn't sure you saw."
She nods. "I did. At the time I was a little too preoccupied to react, though."
He snickers. "Tell me about it. I'm glad that variable is behind us."
"Yeah. Now onto the next hundred-or-so ways we might all die!" she declares with sarcastic enthusiasm. "I know it's another year before we're back home, and there's a lot to look forward to, but aren't you super excited to not be in life-or-death situations all the time? Up here, the airlock might jam or your tether could break when you're on an EVA. In Houston, I'll only need to worry about you jaywalking across Upper Bay Road when you run out to pick up-"
She cuts herself off, embarrassed to have been imagining a possible joint future for them - out loud - for the first time.
"Sorry," she offers lamely, clearing her throat and shifting away from him.
"Hey," he says, gently tilting her chin with his free hand so that she's facing him again. "I guess we've had this unspoken rule where we don't talk about the future, and that's healthy to an extent. But you shouldn't be afraid to bring it up if you want. I don't wanna, like, pressure you, or anything, but I wouldn't be... I take this - us, you - seriously... you know?"
She answers him with a soft kiss. "I know, Chris."
The next night he asks her with a sexy whisper if he can dock his probe in her airlock and she has to bite her pillow to muffle her uncontrollable laughter.
(She lets him, of course, and it's wonderful. As usual.)
As she falls asleep she vaguely ponders how they're both quite serious and steadfast about most things but so silly and bumbling around each other... and how that only serves to prove that they're meant to be together.
xii.
Being "outed" by Lewis in front of the others is mildly amusing to Beck, but when the meeting ends Johanssen runs off without saying anything to anyone. He needs to finish a medical report and send it to NASA, but as soon as that's done he goes looking for her.
He finds her in her quarters (their quarters, now, per the commander's directive), sitting on the bed with her laptop. The door is slightly ajar; he slides it open and leans against the doorway. "Coping with embarrassment the only way you know how?"
She looks up, startled. "Something like that."
"You know it's not that big a deal, right? 'Durr, million mile high club!'" His impression of Martinez earns a laugh. "If that's the worst ribbing we deal with, so be it."
"You don't think I can handle a little shit from Martinez?"
"And Watney, who'll be all over this once we get him, I'm sure," Chris points out, sitting down next to her.
"Yeah, him too. That I can deal with." She closes her computer, scoots closer to him. "You're not concerned about what NASA will say? Lewis is going to need to report the cooling system malfunction and I'm not sure she can cover up how the sleeping arrangements shook out."
"This'll make me sound like a total dick, but I'm not at all worried about what NASA will say. If the agency is pissed it'll be because of the mutiny, not... us." He takes her hand in his. "And, anyway, we've been part of the longest and most ambitious mission in the history of human space exploration. Our prospects after this are pretty good, don't ya think? We can teach astronaut candidates, get consultant gigs, hit the speaking circuit. Anything, really."
"I guess..." she acquiesces, leaning against his side. They both know from talking to the Ares I and II crews that the possibilities for former Mars-faring astronauts are endless. That stands to be true even if they are subject to some kind of sanction for being mutinous rogue fraternizers.
"I mean, I'm not gonna run down the halls of JSC naked while yelling your name," Beck goes on, "but NASA finding out about us isn't preoccupying me as much as getting back to Mars, getting Watney, and making it home in one piece."
"Ooh, well, we need to find you a hallway somewhere," she tells him, sliding into his lap, "because that's something I'll need to see."
He laughs, then wraps his arms around her until their faces are practically touching. "That so?"
"Mmm hmm." She brushes his lips with hers before kissing him in earnest, tongue hungrily probing his mouth.
He feels all the nerve endings in his body ignite. Beth has never been quite so voracious. Nor vocalized her desire him naked. She's shown him, of course; he'll never forget their first time, the way their eyes locked while she pulled off his-
"You guys are making this way too easy."
They both gasp and look up to find Martinez in the doorway.
"I'd say to 'get a room' but you've already done that, so..."
Thinking quickly, Chris grabs a pillow & throws it at the pilot. "Out, Martinez! And next time knock!"
"The door was open!" he calls behind him as he retreats.
Beth, meanwhile, has her face buried in Chris's neck, her petite frame still wrapped up in his larger one.
He gives her a squeeze. "You good?"
"Mmm hmm." She picks her head up so that her lips are right at his ear. "If you go close the door I'll show you exactly how good," she whispers.
He groans and gets up as quickly as possible in .4 g.
xiii.
In the three weeks leading up to the rescue, Johanssen sims every scenario in the book to help Martinez practice remotely piloting the MAV. He becomes almost maniacally fixated on drilling, to the point where Lewis orders him to stop and relax.
Beth gets it, though. They all still feel terrible about leaving Mark behind. They were relieved to hear that he survived, and felt empowered after forcing the Rich Purnell maneuver. But that's given way to an enormous sense of pressure.
Basically, if they fuck up the rescue none of the crewmembers will be able to live with themselves.
Luckily, astronauts are inherently motivated people, and the fear of failure only spurs their focus on the task at hand.
The night before the scheduled MAV launch, Beth can't sleep. She tries to at least lay still and rest so she doesn't disturb Chris, but apparently he's awake too.
"You nervous?" he asks, leaning up on a bent elbow in a way that's become as familiar to her as anything on Hermes.
"Yes," she admits. "And I'm not even the one who has to jump out of the ship attached to a clothesline and grab Watney out of the MAV."
He snickers playfully. "First of all, the tether for the MMU is made of triple-reinforced aerospace cable. Pretty durable and expensive clothesline if you asked NASA."
"All right, I'll give you that one," she agrees. It feels good to joke around a bit.
"Secondly, I'm afraid that grabbing him from the MAV will be the easiest thing I do for the rest of the mission." He sighs, wrapping an arm around her and staring up at the ceiling. "I have no idea how many medical issues he'll have. He's likely to break a rib or two from the force of the ascent, in addition to acceleration sickness from the launch. Plus, he's gotta be really weak and malnourished. They sent a report on his rations and it's... not good," he explains with a grimace and another sigh. "And that's just the physical. The psych team briefed me on some adjustment problems he may have after being by himself for so long under such stressful conditions. He seems all right when we chat, but... It's going to be hard."
Johanssen swallows, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. In her head she's been picturing the friend and colleague they left behind, but spending a year and a half alone has to have changed Watney, physically and mentally, like Beck is saying.
She's also emotional because of how noble Chris is; how deeply he cares about Mark's wellbeing and how seriously he takes his responsibilities in managing the crew's health. When talking about mission-related issues he's usually so stoic and confident, and it's humanizing to hear him admit that he's overwhelmed.
"Sorry," he says then, glancing over at her. "I don't mean to be such a downer."
"No, it's okay," she insists, turning toward him. "I like it when you tell me how you're feeling."
A faint strip of light leaking in from the hallway illuminates his face as his eyes search for hers in the otherwise dark room.
"You're the only one, you know."
"Hmm?"
He exhales slowly. "You're the only person I've ever been able to do that with. Really share feelings."
"Yeah," she gulps, her eyes starting to sting again. "You, too. For me."
He pulls her tightly against him, but their physical proximity is nothing compared to how close she feels to him in her heart.
It's enough to make her momentarily forget about the daunting task ahead of them and drift off into peaceful sleep.
xiv.
"It's not up for debate. I'm not risking another crew member."
Beck swallows and nods at the Commander's orders, attaching her MMU to the tether and releasing slack before she jumps out of the open airlock.
His heart is pounding; the result of increased adrenaline and nothing to use it for. For months he'd been mentally preparing to meet Watney at the MAV, and now he's relegated to secondary recovery. He has the most EVA experience of the entire crew, and it's hard not to feel like Lewis usurped him to exorcise her (unwarranted) guilt at having left Mars without Mark. If they wanted to make a pissing contest of it, Beck would remind his commander that he harbors just as much guilt since he was the one who insisted that Mark was dead and implored her to get back to the ship.
But she's in charge, so there isn't anything he can do besides unspool the tether and monitor the Commander's progress. When the line goes taut, he can vaguely make out that Lewis is still several dozen meters from the MAV.
"I can't get to you, Mark. It's too far," she says over the radio.
Beck suppresses a groan. If it were him out there he'd simply ask to be cut loose from the tether and use the MMU thrusters to get to the MAV and back to the ship.
Thanks to Watney's industriousness (and, clearly, his desperation to get home), they're quickly reunited in the airlock anyway. Seeing a friend who you once thought was dead is entirely surreal. As is the smell from said friend having not showered in... a long fucking time, apparently.
Beck doesn't want to be the guy who busts up the celebration, but he also needs to examine Mark as quickly as possible and determine a course of treatment for any injuries and illnesses. The ships medical bay is designed mostly for storage and quick exams, but in advance of Mark's rescue the crew rearranged the area so that he can rest there and avoid enduring the insufferable heat still plaguing his and Martinez's quarters.
Beck had worked with the medical team in Houston to formulate a plan for triaging the exam and treatment. They wanted him to rule out or treat the most serious possible problems first, then let Mark rest before tackling other less pressing issues.
Performing a thorough physical on someone who spent 18 months on another planet is as draining as one might imagine. They go through three rounds of exam-treatment-sleep, with Beck using Watney's rest intervals to write up reports and research questions that arose during exams. Their other crew mates take turns helping out, but they've all long since gone to bed when the ship's doctor finally leaves the med bay for the night.
As long as the day has been, Chris feels like he needs to unwind before turning in himself. He makes his way to the rec room, sits on a couch and puts his feet up, closing his eyes for the first time in almost 24 hours.
That's when the slight during the rescue effort comes back to haunt him.
He certainly doesn't mean to dwell on it. Lewis is in charge and what she says goes. And he knows that she didn't intend any offense toward him personally. Still, it's disappointing to have a certain job, get amped up to do it, and then at the last minute be told not to.
If anything, space travel is unpredictable, Henderson had told them early on in training.
No shit, he thinks to himself now with a snicker.
He gazes out the window until the spinning of the ship starts to mess with his exhausted brain. When he turns around, a familiar silhouette lurks in the shadows.
"How long have you been here?" he asks her.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Beth quips, sitting next to him. "How is he?"
"I gotta hand it to the guy; he isn't in terrible physical shape aside from a broken rib and herniated disc in his back. The acceleration sickness is already improving and should be gone in another 24 hours. His biggest challenge will be gaining back weight, which needs to be gradual so his system doesn't freak out. And he'll have some nasty scars from stitching up his own minor wounds, but none of them are infected. Otherwise he's in the same boat as the rest of us, having spent a shit-ton of time away from Earth exposed to minimal gravity and potentially harmful levels of solar radiation."
"That's good, then," Beth laughs at his cynical conclusion. Then she studies his expression and squints in confusion. "Is there something...?" She pauses, her eyes searching his face yet again.
He's too tired to say anything and instead lets the silence hang between them.
"You're still pissed, huh?" she says finally.
Surprised that she brings up what he thinks she's bringing up, he glances at her sideways with raised eyebrows.
"What, you thought I wouldn't pick up on it? You love high-pressure situations, spacewalks are your jam, and you're basically allergic to being told you can't do something."
He laughs, wincing a little at her characterization of him. "That's my reputation around here? Great."
She tucks her legs up underneath her and wraps her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against her neck. "Everyone else regards you as disturbingly professional, and I don't think any of them would guess that you're upset. This is just me inviting you to open up. Sorry if I'm failing miserably."
He closes his eyes, affectionately gripping her forearms and melting into the embrace. "I'm sorry too. And I'm not upset, really. More like... disappointed. I know that no one thinks I should feel guilty, the same way we all think Lewis shouldn't feel guilty. But I was looking forward to making things right myself, by getting Mark from the MAV."
"Yeah, that would have been poetic," she agreed. "Think of it this way, though: Lewis doesn't get to administer lifesaving medical treatment for the next seven months. You said yourself that the MAV grab would've been easy compared to diagnosing and treating Mark's injuries. Doing the doctor thing isn't, like, thrilling and death-defying, but if you ask me, that's just fine." She kisses his cheek. "I guess I don't need to tell you that I was relieved when Lewis decided to go out instead of you. I know it's selfish of me, because your EVAs are such a crucial part of the mission, but every time you're out there in space... it's extra nerve wracking, since we... now," she stammers.
"I know, Beth. I know." They're both so used to being independent, reserving any fierce devotion for their respective work. It's been difficult to navigate the intensity of their mutual attraction amidst the bizarrely unfolding deep space mission.
Recalling their brief encounter setting up the bomb, his lip instinctively quirks into a wry grin. "Maybe you should kiss my helmet every time. For good luck."
Her face turns red. "Okay, when I said 'Don't tell anyone I did that' I also meant 'Let's never speak of this again.'"
He laughs, squeezing her affectionately and inhaling the comforting smell of her hair.
Having lightened the mood, he feels compelled to tell her another part of story. "I guess you won't be happy to hear that I told Vogel release the tether if I couldn't reach the MAV. The MMU would've gotten us back just fine but you probably would have gone into shock in the meantime."
"Forget me; if you did that the Commander would have gone ballistic. I can't even fathom the punishment she'd come up with."
"Yeah, probably something worse than your silent treatment and guilt-inducing side-eye."
They both chuckle, and he feels her sigh; a barely perceptible sound of satisfaction. Why didn't I just go to her right away after finishing with Watney for the night? he wonders. Being with her is such a comfort, so settling. And yet their relationship simultaneously scares the shit out of him, the implications of such a strong connection begging to be etched with permanence in the form of vows and rings and his-and-hers bath towels. All the things he never thought he'd share with someone.
"Come on, Dr. Bossy Beck," she says after a few moments, detangling herself from him and standing. "Time for bed."
She's holding his hand, giving him a little tug upward.
Shaken from his heavier thoughts, Chris raises his eyebrows. "You're telling me to sleep? What kind of bizarro world has this turned into?" He stands and follows her anyway, almost running over her small frame when she slows down and glances over her shoulder.
"I didn't say we had to sleep," she points out, a smile playing at her lips.
Suddenly he doesn't feel so tired anymore.
xv.
"You ever wonder how they let this happen?"
Johanssen stares out the window, this time watching the cool blue and white globe of Earth in the distance.
Beck clears his throat, looking up from the medical journal he's reading on his tablet. "Uh, well, once we learned about the Rich Purnell maneuver it was basically game over. They had to resupply us and-"
"Not that," she insists, almost annoyed. "I meant us," she clarifies meekly, almost wishing she hadn't mused out loud.
"How did they let us happen? You mean NASA?" he asks, clearly amused.
"Well, yeah. Didn't the selection committee go over psychological profiles and try to pick people who weren't liable to- who wouldn't-"
"Fall in love with each other?" he supplies, so confidently it makes her gasp.
"Yes. That. Is what I meant." She shyly tucks her hair behind her ear.
Chris shrugs, casting his tablet aside and stretching an arm around her shoulder like he did that first time, over a year ago. "They probably try to pick people who they know will remain focused on the mission no matter what. Because they can't predict everything. And there's psychology research indicating that people tend to fall in love when facing intense and difficult circumstances."
"Like leaving a presumed-dead crewmate on Mars, only to learn later that he's alive? And committing a mutiny to go rescue him?" she supplies.
"Something like that."
"So you think we only happened because of what went on with Mark?"
His brow crinkles immediately. "I liked you way before that, if that's what you're asking," he says quickly.
It's hard to contain her grin, hearing that. "Same. With you."
Then he winces a little bit. "There may have been an encouraging email from our Mars-bound friend that spurred me to... act."
"Oh really?" She raises her eyebrows at the unexpected admission, then leans her head on Beck's shoulder. "I guess I should thank him."
"Ah, well, he told me to wait until we got home to do anything. But that was before we knew we'd be going back for him, so I accelerated the schedule a little."
"Mmm," she hums with approval, wondering how differently things could have gone.
But her thoughts quickly turn to what lies ahead: another two weeks aboard Hermes, then a month of debriefings and medical observation at JSC before they're officially released back into the world.
The idea of being back on Earth, trying to resume their normal lives after three years away... it's a little overwhelming to begin with. Not to mention the added uncertainty of how she and Chris will work outside the cozy, isolated confines of the ship.
He must sense what she's thinking because he momentarily tightens his grip around her. "We'll figure it out. I promise."
She breathes out, leans into him. "I know."
xvi.
He proposes to her six months later, running naked down the hallway inside her apartment with a ring.
It's a gamble. He thinks that she'll remember her comment from that night on Hermes, but she might not. And she could find it totally funny… or think that he's completely insane.
"The only problem is that we can't tell anyone how you asked," she laments later that night, after she'd screamed in delight at the sight of his naked sprint and answered "yes, of course" (leading to her quickly being naked as well).
"Won't be the only secret we're keeping," he points out, referring to the publicized version of their love story, which recites that they first began dating after returning to Earth.
"True." She kisses his cheek. "It's kinda nice, actually."
"Mmm-hmm," he agrees, smiling like an idiot.
There's no one else he'd rather keep secrets with.