Brian1972: you're right. Kearlyn's stories did serve as inspiration for A Planet at the Edge of Understanding. However, I do not feel that it is necessary to 'give credit' as you have suggested. I'm writing about Mark's relationship with both Ares III and IV, not just discovering that he's alive or seeing people's reactions to his continued survival. Nonetheless, thank you for your kind review.

When I check my messages at the end of the day, I'm expecting the normal: maybe a letter from a colleague about recent developments in one area of medicine or another, a few thousand questions that Annie Montrose, head of PR at NASA, needs the answers to, and a few messages from my friends and family back on Earth. What I get instead is two separate emails: the one from Annie Montrose with all the important questions (at my quick scan, one reads, "Is Watney eating full portions?"), one from Annie Montrose telling me to make Watney check his email, and the unanticipated message from Dr. Christopher Beck of Ares III. I stare at it for a few seconds, frown marring my features, before clicking it open to reveal the lengthy message.

Morgan, it starts off. Attached to this email are a variety of messages for Mark from the crew. We weren't convinced that he would get around to checking that new email they set up for him, so you get to show them to him at some point. Before you do that, please read the entirety of this email and consider it's contents. I'm aware that NASA has sent over a list of ailments that they think Mark has, and I'd like to recommend treatment options for each of them. This isn't because I don't trust your skill as a doctor, this is because you've only known Mark for six days. I don't have much advice for malnutrition, but his favourite ration packets are chicken teriyaki, mac n cheese, and meatballs. His anxiety might make him want to store up food and eat as little as possible just in case, but don't let him do this, obviously. Always have someone with him when he's eating; for all that Mark's stubborn as fuck, he will eat whole rations if you make him. If he starts making a lot of un-funny jokes, you should be concerned. He does his because he doesn't want people to worry about him. A good course of action is a hug, which leads me to my next point.

Mark is very tactile. He'd fallen asleep on each of our shoulder's at least once by the time we completed our first month of training, and seems to prefer sleeping on people to actual beds. On the Hermes we always had a movie night once a week, and alternated who got to choose the movie- he was a huge fan of comedy and sci-fi, though I'm not sure how his opinion of the latter has changed. Also, if you guys have any nostalgic childhood films like The Incredibles or the 2012 Avengers film (you know, the one with ScarJo and poor Chris Evans, bless his hairless head), those would be good choices for a movie night. His parents raised him on bad movies, with a focus on sci-fi and superheroes. Anything past 2010 gets into the segment for not-nostalgic seeing as he was 16 at that point. To get to the point, give Mark lots and lots of hugs so long as they don't seem to make him uncomfortable (again, with the jokes. If he makes jokes but gets a little teary, you're good. If he asks you to stop, stop. If he flees, stop), and make sure that there are opportunities for him to reach out to you guys. Also, he's not a fan of family time so that should be considered a back up plan.

I have no idea what to do for depression. To be perfectly honest, I have never seen Mark distressed over anything. He was the only one whose smile never wavered through training, and I'm sure you know how difficult training is, seeing as you are on Mars. My best guess would be that he'll bottle it up, hence why he wasn't down during training. Whilst Mark is very social, he doesn't come out of his shell well in large groups. It's easier to make him open up one-on-one, which is something I recommend doing. It's not that he doesn't want to share, it's that he doesn't feel comfortable sharing with a large group. I'm not aware that anyone on your crew has experience with therapy, but if someone does, they should have sort of therapy sessions with him, probably. I'm kind of expecting that you lend a hand in that too, Morgan.

The letter comes to an abrupt halt after that, as though the writer had run out of time to continue and chosen to end the letter when it contained all it needed to without the pleasantries.

Anyways, give Mark lots and lots of hugs for us and remind him that he's been missed back here on Earth at every possible opportunity. Hugs! Beck.

I groan at it, but immediately call Blair over to read the email, and he skims his eyes over it quickly before saying, "We should probably listen to him." I give him a look and he rolls his eyes at me. "Morgan, Dr. Beck has knew Watney for five or six years before they went to Mars. I reckon that man could have files on the psyche of each member of his crew. We should listen to him." He pauses for a minute, considering my expression. "So lots of hugs, then?"

"It's not that I don't think that Dr. Beck's ideas are worthy of our consideration, I'm just unsure as to how Watney will react to us, people that he doesn't know well, being touchy feely with him," I reply, uncertain of m steps. "All of what Dr. Beck has told us is information from four, five years ago now, and normally that wouldn't have been such a big deal except that the entire time was a series of traumatizing incidents. And traumatizing incidents change people, Commander. We don't even know if he likes touching people now." I shudder. "God, this is a weird conversation."

He shrugs with one shoulder, unable to dispute that. "We have to try, and if it goes well we continue."

"Only," I make my counteroffer, "if Watney makes the first move," I pause, "weird, again. But if Watney makes the first move, we go for it. Hugs. Everything. But movie nights are a definite yes."

If Blair were a cat, his whiskers would have twitched in amusement. "It is your call, but I'm just suggesting we try."

"And I'm saying we do."

That evening, I pulled up my copy of The Avengers and forced it onto the big screen, the technology uncertain of my actions but willing to obey. Off-duty, Blair is as chill of a guy as you could find around, but prepared to leap back into Commander Blair mode at any moment if the need arises, and he convinces Reed and Spencers to join us first, though they're quickly followed by Carter and Watney. Our ever-serious German takes a little more cajoling, but Holland finally agrees and sits next to me with a grumble. "I do not understand why you Americans like your superhero movies so much," she says, with her hands folded in her lap.

I mimic her thick accent. "I do not understand vhy you Deutsch like your var movies so much." Holland huffs, but submits herself to watching the movie as Clint Barton is possessed by Loki.

"My God," says Spencers, who isn't the least bit religious but who had crushed on Clint Barton all through high school, by his own admission. He nods approvingly. "He's glorious."

Holland rolls her eyes at him, blatantly disgusted by the public display of adoration. She mutters under her breath in German, something about dumb Americans and their dumb superhero films.

I mutter back to her under my breath. "Das isch mein Film und ich bin kanadisch," I murmur. "I'm Canadian."

"Kanadisch? Amerikaner? Unterschied? Difference?"

I roll my eyes at her before returning to the film, where Steve Rogers punches a sandbag from where it hangs, sending it blasting across the room as though it had been hit by a freight train rather than a person. Sneaking a glance at Watney, he's near bouncing on the edge of the seat as he awaits the real action's beginning. Sneaking a camera out from my pocket, I snap a silent picture for Dr. Beck. Carter notices, shooting me a look before returning to the movie. He perks up at the sight of Director Fury in all his one-eyed glory, leather trench coat firmly in place.

As the movie continues onwards at the upbeat pace that all superhero films have, Watney begins to relax. He sinks into the chair, half leaning on the ever-formal Reed who sits next to him and is completely engrossed by the contents of her laptop, the soft glow not even disrupting the film. She glances over, a little confused before returning to her work.

I extract myself from the comfortable chair to take another picture, again going unnoticed by Watney, and I shoot a glance at Blair, who's whole attention is focused on the film playing. As the group around me drifts off, I pull my laptop up and fire off an email at Dr. Beck.

Dr. Beck. We had a look at your suggestions and are just finishing up the 2012 Avengers movie, as per your suggestions. The attached images are of Watney. Please share them with the Ares III crew and any important relations of Watney. Have an excellent evening, Morgan.

I fire off the message and rejoin my crew, finding my eyes falling heavy as New York is destroyed by thousands of alien robots.