"What do you miss the most?" Mark asked his fellow crew over dinner one evening. It had been a quiet mission day.

The reactor had been restored to normal output, and for the most part, life on Hermes had returned to normal. They'd all fallen back into the work, the schedule, the reassuring routine.

"Bread." Beck volunteered. "I miss bread. Toast."

"Mmm. Toast sounds awesome," agreed Beth.

"Produce." Lewis argued, shaking her head. "A nice, crisp green salad." She looked down at her foil packet of pasta and soggy vegetables, wrinkling her nose, slightly.

"French fries," teased Martinez, looking at Mark.

Mark glared at him.

"That salad does sound good," he mused, pointedly ignoring Rick, who was now dipping his imaginary french fries in imaginary ketchup, mugging at Mark, as the others chuckled at his antics.

"They actually sent us up some fresh produce on the resupply," Lewis mentioned. "But it's still been a long time."

"You guys had salad without me?" Mark laughed, pretending to be offended.

Lewis nodded, smiling. "They sent up apples, too."

A collective groan went up. That package of ten crisp green apples had been the biggest hit of the entire resupply.

"Those apples were amazing," Beth said, laughing at Mark's wide-eyed expression of mock-betrayal.

"I sliced mine up and spread peanut butter on them," Beck chimed in, grinning. "Delicious!"

"You bastard." Mark grinned at him.

"Peanut butter," shuddered Vogel. "Disgusting stuff. Is one thing I will not miss."

"I didn't actually mean food, though." Mark said.

"You didn't?" Beth grinned. "Okay, then. I miss the beach."

"That's an easy one," Rick said. "My wife. My son."

Lewis and Vogel nodded, in unison.

"Family," they said.

Mark thought about that for a minute, chewing a bite of his chicken and rice.


It was still on his mind, a couple of hours later, as he was drifting off to sleep, idly stroking Beth's dark hair with one hand, holding her hand with the other, their fingers laced together.

Even though they'd only been together for a few months, this thing with Beth felt really solid. He'd never felt this way about anyone. Ever.

It felt fulfilling, and real. Without knowing precisely how and when, she had become his family, somehow. She'd gotten under his skin. He'd fallen in love with her. And he was beginning to wonder how, exactly, that was going to work, when they were back on terra firma in a couple of months.

Would it work? Could it? Did she even want it to?

She seemed so comfortable with him, so into it, that his first instinct was to think that of course she'd want to be with him, once they were home. Even if it meant some upheaval, right? Some adjustments? He knew that he would cheerfully give his life a major overhaul if it meant that he'd be with Beth.

But there was still a layer of doubt there, when he thought it over. Maybe this whole situation was just something she found convenient, like she'd said that first morning. Just a casual thing. A shipboard thing.

She'd never talked about the future with him. Not once. Never said that she loved him, or that she wanted anything more. Maybe that was the clue phone ringing, and he'd better pick it up.

What if she dumped him, post-haste, when their time on Hermes was over?

She wouldn't even have to dump him, actually, since they weren't even technically, officially together in the first place. Maybe he'd gotten way too invested in this thing.

Beth was a dozen years younger than he was, he reminded himself. Maybe younger girls weren't as interested in serious relationships? He remembered how casually she had suggested that he move his things over to her room instead of Vogel's.

Feel free to be my roommate, she'd said.

As he laid there, her head pillowed on his chest, listening to her breathing, deep and even, holding her close, there were a lot of things that he wasn't sure about. But he did know one thing for certain.

He didn't want to be her roommate.


Despite his intentions, he hadn't ever gotten around to writing that "guess what?" email to his parents. He'd meant to, sure, but the thing with Beth was difficult to define, and somehow, he'd found writing about it to anyone, even his parents, whom he was close to, just plain weird.

They hadn't heard about it. Or if they had, they hadn't mentioned it in any of their weekly emails.

It didn't seem to be public knowledge.

The quiet rumors of the potential Ares 3 romance had died down and been quickly overshadowed by the widely reported news of the reactor repair EVA accident and rescue.

Beck's ongoing recovery.

The handsome, injured, astronaut doctor had turned out to be too much for the fangirls back on Earth to overlook after all, apparently. Mark now received three times as many media requests for Beck as he did for himself.

And of course, there were all the accolades he'd received, along with Mark, for bravery and decisive action. Not much doubt that someone, somewhere, was dreaming up a medal ceremony for them, at the White House or somewhere.

Now, though, he was wishing that he had written to his parents about Beth, already. For one thing, his mom always gave good advice.


There was nobody in the Rec to eat lunch with, damn it, so he went off in search of someone who didn't look too busy to bother.

He quickly found himself a target.

"You know," he asked Rick, slumping down in a seat next to him. "All this time on Hermes, and I still have no idea what the fuck it is that you do all day." He grinned at him.

"Uh-uh" Rick shook his head. "Can't tell you about all of that, man. Your little botanist pea-brain might as'splode." He'd affected his best Cuban accent.

"Yeeeeah." Mark laughed. "You're just worried that if we all knew how little work you actually do, piloting the ship that steers itself, that you'd be first in line if we ran out of food."

Rick laughed, nervously, as Mark assembled his chicken fajita. He looked dubiously at a chunk of processed chicken, as though he weren't quite sure whether or not it was fit for human consumption.

"You have no idea, man. No idea."

Something in his voice made Mark wonder for a brief instant if Rick was being serious, but of course he had to be joking.

"So what do you do all day?" He smirked at Rick. This back-and-forth repartee was one of the highlights of having Martinez for his best friend.

"Wank it all day to that hot poster of your girlfriend," he replied, chuckling.

"Oh my god," Mark laughed, almost dropping his sandwich. "Fuck you. Did Beth show you that email?"

"Of course she did. We all had a good laugh. That shit went viral, man."

Mark rolled his eyes.

"Well, good. Awesome. I'm glad everyone had a good laugh at the poor guy that was at serious risk of dying. Pouring my heart out, down there."

"I didn't show anyone the one that you wrote me," Rick said, serious now. "Just FYI."

"Ugh. Thanks," he replied, thinking back to that maudlin thing he'd written. Tell my parents… good god, what the hell had he been thinking!

"Never so happy to delete an email in my life," Rick chuckled. "As when I deleted that one, the first night you were back aboard."

Mark nodded gratefully, quiet for a moment while he ate.

Finally, he couldn't resist.

"That 'prepare your body' comment, though. Really, man?" Mark joked. "What the hell!"

Rick burst into uncontrolled laughter, bent over at the waist, slapping his desk.

"Oh man, I got you guys so good," he choked, still laughing. "You should have seen her face."

Mark smiled, imagining it.

"Pissed?"

"She's got a temper, that one," he chuckled.

"Yeah." Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm aware," he muttered dryly, thinking back to that day in the lab when she'd come storming in to call him an idiot, and then…

"Ha. I bet you are."

"Seriously though, did you… did you already know? That she… that I…" he trailed off, kind of sorry that he'd brought it up.

Rick was quiet for a moment, as though he were trying to decide how much to say.

"Well." He looked away, in an uncharacteristic way. "I guess… it was more of a… theory I had. I was just kind of testing it out, I guess. You two reminded me of…" he looked at Mark, ruefully. "It kind of took me back to like, high school or something, when you've got these two idiots that like each other, but maybe they need some sort of catalyst, before they can actually, you know… do anything about it."

Mark thought about that for a moment.

"And anyway," he continued, his usual joker's facade slipping effortlessly back into place, "we all sure as hell knew that it wasn't Beck that she wanted. You know, after she had to give him the big shut-down talk."

"I, um…" he could laugh about it now, he supposed, but it sure hadn't been funny a couple of months ago, "I might have been inadvertently responsible for that," he admitted, sheepishly.

"Responsible, how do you-" Rick started laughing again. "Oh no. No, no, no. You and your emails from Mars. It's the gift that keeps on giving, man. Tell me you didn't." He looked at Mark, expectantly.

"Yep. I did."

"Oh, no, man. Shit. Why in the fuck would you have-"

"Because I wanted her to be happy. I didn't think I had a chance in hell with a girl like that, in the first place. And I knew Chris was crazy about her. For all I knew, she felt the same way."

"High school." Rick said, finally. "It's like fucking high school in space, over here."

"Yes, I believe that it's been established that I was an idiot."

"Well, it looks like it's working out okay for you, even so," Rick grinned. "Million Mile High Club, inaugural members!"

"Shut it," Mark chuckled. "I just worry, though…" he paused, not sure if this was something that he wanted to discuss.

Rick was serious again, now.

"What's up?"

"I guess I'm just worried about what's going to happen when we get home," he said, hoping that Rick wouldn't make fun of him.

"Ah," he said, sagely. "Don't know if she'll still be into it, once her options expand?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. And I just don't know how it would work. I'm from Chicago; she's a California girl, I graduated college when she was in elementary school. I don't even know what I'm going to be doing, post-NASA. I don't know where she fits into my plans. I don't know if I fit into hers. If she even wants it."

"Wow." Rick replied. His face was still serious, but Mark was bracing himself, just in case. "Well, this settles it."

"Settles what?"

"You're still an idiot, Watney. Have you talked with her about any of this?"

Mark hesitated.

"See?" he continued. "Idiot. Talk to her."

"It's just…" he trailed off. He did feel like an idiot, now. "It's just not like that, with me and Beth, we don't-"

"You don't talk? What the fuck is it that you do?" he grinned, echoing Mark's earlier question. He smirked at him, for good measure. "Man. I don't think I want to hear about this."

"It's more that we haven't really-"

"No wait, I changed my mind. You're my only direct source about how sex in point-four G is. Even if it's only nerd action, I guess beggars can't be choosers-"

"Fuck you," he said, cutting him off, as they both laughed.

"Sorry," he shook his head, smirking at Mark. "So, what? You're too busy, getting busy, to talk? Tell me again, what the problem is, here?"

"Oh my god," he shook his head. "Never fucking mind," he laughed.

"Okay, okay, sorry. So what you're saying, basically, is that Johanssen is too busy, wanting to get busy, but you want to slow down, talk about your feelings? God, that must be rough. I feel for you, man."

Mark rolled his eyes.

Rick was quiet for awhile. Finally, he continued, "Seriously, though. Talk to her."