"I just love those new glasses, honey," his mom greeted him, enthusiastically, "They make you look just like Dad did when he was your age."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Mom," he laughed, hugging her, as his dad mugged, making a mock-insulted face at him, "But thank you, anyway."

It was Wednesday evening, and his parents had made the rare trek from their suburban Chicago hideaway, to pay him a pre-Thanksgiving visit. This was their first visit to DC since they'd been summoned here two years ago for yet another funeral for their wayward astronaut son. They had re-adjusted admirably, really. His mom had developed a penchant for trotting out "two funerals" as a sort of trump card, if an argument wasn't going her way, though. He supposed she was entitled.

He invited them in, and showed them around the sparsely-furnished apartment. His dad wandered into the kitchen to make some coffee, while his mom gave him another hug.

"You look so much better, honey." She squeezed his arm. "Tell me about how you've been doing."

"Oh, well. You know." He grinned at them. "Keeping up with my physical therapy. Working with NASA, setting up their new department. Teaching impressionable young astronauts how to blow themselves up with hydrazine."

"You know what I meant," she frowned at him, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Much better."

"Two funerals, Mark."

"Okay, okay! I'm doing a lot better. I'm only about five kilos from my target weight. The psychologist says I'm doing well. My latest bone density scan was better than expected. My feet have callouses again. Anything else you'd like the details on?" He shook his head, smiling at them. It was good to see them again, even if his mom did tend towards being a worrywart.

His dad cleared his throat, "Actually, I'd like to hear the details on-"

"Richard." A note of warning was in his mom's voice.

"Oh, fine." His dad glowered. He paused to glare at Lynn. "Great coffee," he offered, sourly, as a non-sequitur.

Mark grinned at the two of them. They acted like the proverbial old married couple. He wondered what it was, exactly, that his dad wanted details on, but his mom was unwilling to discuss. He assumed it was either alien-related or the fact that he was dating the President's daughter. They'd never met Sophia.

"Actually, son, any chance we could tune in so I could watch college football?"

Mark tossed him the remote.

"How are the rest of the Ares 3 crew?" asked his mom. "And how is your little goddaughter?"

"Valentina? Oh, she's great. Almost six weeks old now. Pictures?" he pulled out his phone. "Everyone else is doing great, too. Except for Beth and Chris, they're both pretty tired. Val doesn't let them get much sleep."

His mom chuckled at that, as she pored over the rather excessive amount of pictures Mark had taken.

"Will any of them be there, tomorrow?" she asked.

"No, all of them have their own family things to do. Rick and his little boy will probably be over here on Friday, though, if you want to say 'hi' to them then. And Chris and Beth are going to drop by with Val."

"Pencil us in." quipped his mom.

"Should we go out tonight for dinner, you think? Or I could order take-out, instead?" He wasn't sure he felt like wrangling with Thanksgiving traffic. Or dealing with photographers. Or trying to pry his dad away from college football, for that matter.

"Pizza?" his mom suggested.

"Mom. No. It's DC, they don't have pizza here." Chicago-style pizza, anyway. The only kind that mattered.

"Oh. Right. Chinese, then."

He nodded in agreement.

x x x

Things were pretty quiet after dinner, as Mark and his mom sat in the kitchen. He thought that she seemed to be debating whether or not to bring something up. She fidgeted and shook her head slightly. She looked like she was walking on eggshells.

"Mom, was there something you wanted to talk about?" he asked her in a slightly amused tone.

"No," she wavered, "Well, yes." she paused, "but I'm not sure if it's my place..." she trailed off. "You're a grown man, and you don't answer to me, not in a long time now." She smiled at him ruefully.

"True. I guess you'd better just butt out, then." he answered sardonically.

"Two funerals, Mark." she fired back.

"Jesus. Fine. What?" he relented, rolling his eyes at her dramatically. He smiled at her, but this did not sound like anything good.

"Your dad and I are just a little..." she paused again, looking uncomfortable, "concerned, I guess."

Now he was starting to get an idea of where she was going with this. Ugh.

"Concerned about what, exactly?"

"Well, it's that young woman you're seeing. We haven't asked you about it before, because we figured it was none of our business. But now it's been going on for quite a while, and we're being asked to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family..." she trailed off. Was there a note of disapproval in her voice? He couldn't tell.

"What would you like to know, exactly?" His voice sounded tight and hard, even to his ears; he felt like he was being put on the defensive here. He already had his doubts, damn it. Why was she bringing this up?

"It's just that," she paused for a moment, looking apologetically at him, "at the start, it seemed like something you were doing for the sake of public perception, maybe. It seemed like something that had been 'arranged'."

He looked at her, evenly. "Was there a question in there, somewhere?" He was beginning to feel unreasonably pissed off.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Mark. This can't be something that's never occurred to you before. That girl is at least fifteen years younger than you. Are things," she stopped for a moment, looking at him again, "are things serious? Are you planning to..." she trailed off.

"I don't know." He shook his head, looking down. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"You don't know?" She shook her head at him, unbelieving. "Mark. I'd like to think that I haven't raised a son that would take advantage-"

He pushed his chair back, angrily.

"Calm down. I'm sorry. I said that the wrong way." She shook her head, apologetically. "I'm sorry. Truly." She laid her hand on top of his, and patted it.

They sat in silence for several long minutes.

Finally, he spoke. "I know, it doesn't make sense. I'm not even sure why she wants to be with me." He paused for a time, thinking. "And I know what I want. I just don't know if it's even possible."