The dark screen lights up, resolving into the smiling faces of two women and three men.
"Hi Mark!" they say in unison, arming waving frantically. "Where have you been?!"
Here, I'm here!
"We missed you so much, and we're so so glad you're alive."
"And that you're coming home."
Their voices and faces are overwhelming and also the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Thing have been… quieter, sadder without you around."
Me too.
"But don't worry, you haven't missed all that much," say the dark-haired man with a round, happy face.
Rick.
"The Cubs still haven't won the world series," he continues.
"Our space nerd still likes computers more than people," says the other dark-haired man and is promptly elbowed in the gut by the tiny woman next to him.
Chris. Beth.
"Dr. Beck is, believe it or not, an even worse mother hen then the last time you saw him," she says and the man sputters.
The bald man slants a sly glance towards the ginger-haired woman in the center and says, "The Commander's music is still terrible."
Alex.
The woman sighs but smiles.
"And Martinez's jokes are still awful," she says.
Commander Lewis. Melissa.
They're all here.
Lewis stares directly at the camera.
"We're glad you're back Mark," she says. "We'll see you soon."
The crew murmurs their own goodbyes, voices overlapping in his mind in a way they haven't since…
"Come home safely."
"See you soon."
"We miss you."
The video freezes there, on that image, five faces with warm eyes and soft smiles.
We miss you.
225 million kilometers from home, Mark Watney stared at the smiling faces of his crew and cried.
He was going home.
