Houston

Mark centered the candle on Henry's birthday cake as his wife turned off the lights in the kitchen.

It took a few attempts for him to light the battered old thing. After all these years It still looked vaguely like a question mark.

Henry was still engrossed in his new video game, and finally Mindy was forced to pat him on the shoulder. "C'mon squirt, blow out the candle. The game can wait."

After the cake had been cut and demolished, the newly nine-year old Henry raced back to his game. Mindy left for work, and the Watney men were on their own, for rest of the evening.

"Is Zombie Space Pirates from Mars any good?" Mark asked him, interestedly.

"Oh yeah, it's awesome! I'm almost to the RTG now!" his son informed him. He looked down at the screen, and frowned at the nuclear explosion warning. "Aw, crap. I blew myself up again."

GAME OVER flashed on the screen, with a disco fanfare.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Johanssen," he grumbled, under his breath.

"Dad, did you really say derpy stuff like Captain Blondebeard does in the game?"

"What does he say?" Mark asked, one eyebrow quirked.

"He says, 'Duct tape is magic!' and 'Ayyyyyy!" and uh, I don't know, a lot of what he says just comes out all bleeped?"

"Uh. No. I did not say anything even remotely like that. Well, I plead the fifth on the bad language," he added.

Henry tapped TRY AGAIN and the game started again from the beginning, with the other five space pirates preparing to leave their dead crewmate behind on Mars. Their pirate space ship left, and then the marooned space pirate got back up, now a zombie, and Henry started to guide the hapless Captain Blondebeard back towards his Pirate Hab.

Mark watched over his shoulder, amused.

"Well, good, I'm glad you're enjoying your birthday present. Aunt Beth will be happy to hear it."

Some time later, Henry asked, "Was it fun, Dad? Going to space?"

Henry had put his game aside and snuggled into Mark's side, contentedly. It was long past Henry's bedtime, of course, but Mark was an old softie, and hey, it was the weekend. Not to mention it being the little guy's birthday.

"It was, sometimes, yeah," he said, as he swung an arm around Henry.

"Only sometimes?"

"Well, it was kind of scary. And lonely, a lot of the time."

"Til you started texting Mom with the rocks?"

Mark grinned. "Hey, it worked. What girl could resist?"

"Gross, Dad."

"That was not even close to the grossest thing going down on Mars, my friend."

"Really?" Like most nine-year olds, Henry had a great affinity for things that could be considered gross. "Like what?"

"Well, just for one non-offensive example, I didn't take a bath for three months."

"Oh, that is gross!"

"Then, I turned pee into rocket fuel," he volunteered, holding his nose, for effect.

"No more! So! Gross! I need brain bleach!" Henry mugged at him.

"You and me both, bud."

"Hey, Dad?"

"Mm?" Mark got up, and gestured up the stairs. Henry followed his lead, reluctantly.

"Do you ever miss it?" Henry asked him, as he got into bed.

Mark pulled the covers up and settled them around his son.

"Nope," he replied. "I'm very happy being here on Earth with you," he grinned. "Much more exciting. And there's way fewer explosions, which is always good."

Henry rolled his eyes, as Mark swooped down to give him a quick goodnight kiss.

"Dad!" he scolded. "I'm nine? I don't need to be tucked in anymore. I'm not a baby."

"Oh." he deadpanned. "Sorry." He deliberately untucked the covers and scrambled them up, and carefully wiped his kiss away from Henry's forehead with the base of his hand. "There. How's that?"

"Love you," his son told him, and closed his eyes, contentedly. Mark had to catch his breath from the emotion, swirling up through his chest like a oncoming storm.

"Love you too," he replied, simply, grateful that Henry's eyes were closed and nobody could see how much it got to him sometimes, this parenting thing. Someone had once likened having a child as making the decision to forever allow your heart to go walking around outside your body, and Mark couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

Dawn rolled around, and sunlight was beginning to creep into his room, pooling on the scuffed plywood flooring.

Mark didn't stir, however, until he heard the bedroom door open. Mindy shut the door and locked it behind her, with a kind of dazed expression. She leaned up against the door and closed her eyes, and Mark sat up halfway, concerned.

"Everything okay?" He turned back the covers for her and held out his arms. "Rough night at work, Dr. Park?"

She was silent for a long while, with an odd expression on her face as she undressed and slid into bed next to him.

"I had an… interesting night at work," she shook her head incredulously, with an amused expression.

His arms closed around her, and she snuggled up against his chest eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Bold and hungrily, like she could never get enough of him. And even after all the years they'd spent together, neither could he.

"Well, good morning to you, too," he chuckled appreciatively, as she straddled him. Everything else was forgotten, as her parted lips crushed against his.

"What're you thinking about right now?" he murmured to her, after their labored breathing had slowed a little bit. His fingertips traced idly through her hair as their laid together, spent by the intensity of their lovemaking.

When she didn't answer, but instead, raised herself partly up on her hands and gave him a look that seemed like equal parts trepidation and joy, he felt his heart leap in his chest.

"Um," she started. "I don't even know where to start," she admitted, with an odd sort of smile, sort of surprised, and happy, and maybe...proud?

"Are you pregnant," he guessed, as a huge grin split his face. Mindy had tears in her eyes, and shook her head no, with a smirk.

When she finally spoke, her voice was choked.

"Something I've wanted since… but I made it to the interview stage, and… since that night when I met you at the pre-launch party. The committee had just turned me down for the first time that night. But now…" she trailed off, aware that she was rambling. "Wait, I'll show you." She was up and rummaging through her purse, for an envelope.

He sat up, now on full alert. Something big was afoot here.

"What's that?" he asked, though as he saw that envelope he had a weird feeling of deja vu.

Here we go again, the thought came to him unbidden, as she handed over the envelope and he opened it.

Astronaut Selection Office

Melinda S. Park, SATCON Director

2101 NASA Rd -1

Houston, TX

Dear Mindy,

We are pleased to inform you

Mark couldn't read any further. He couldn't even breathe. He looked at her.

"You're going to space?"

"Sure looks like it," she agreed.

THE END