It was a call-back to a different era, as the crew and their respective spouses gathered in a downtown restaurant. They all knew it might be a while before they were all together again, maybe a long while. It was amazing how much the return of their lost crewmate had restored the group's dynamic, after two years of barely being able to discuss their missing crewmate. Now, even though the crewmate in question was allegedly stuck in traffic, he was still the topic of conversation.

Martinez was recounting to the group the tabloid news program he'd been watching earlier, and the others listened in amusement to the rumors and innuendo about Mark and his overnight stay at the White House.

"I'm telling you, man," Rick grinned at Vogel, "It's true. I saw that little vixen dragging him out of there, before the band had even finished their first set."

"You sound jealous!" teased Marissa.

Rick waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Not a chance."

"If anyone deserves to sow some wild oats," Lewis smiled, "It's got to be Watney."

"You are mistaken, Commander." Vogel quipped, "Watney only likes to sow the potato."

x x x

"Sorry I'm late!" Mark greeted them, as he walked in, holding Sophia's hand. "This one couldn't find a parking place." Sophia smiled sheepishly; she looked a bit uncomfortable at being included in such a gathering, with only spouses and established couples. But she found a seat next to Helena Vogel, whom she'd chatted with the previous evening, and before long she looked right at home.

The dinner conversation was varied, as they rehashed the events of the previous month, as well as plans for the future. Martinez confided that he was in the selection pool for the next Ares mission, and he had a decent chance at being named commander, to boot.

"How about you two?" Lewis asked Beck and Johanssen, "What's next for you guys?"

Beth favored them all with a mischievous grin, "We've got a small project in the works, actually."

"Programming? Which agency are you contracting with?" Lewis asked.

"It involves genetics, actually." Beck chimed in, as everyone looked at him, baffled. "Beth and I are going to be working together, on this project."

"Genetics?" Lewis looked confused. Genetics was not a specialty of either Beck or Johanssen. And why was Watney grinning at her, like a fool?

"We figure the project will probably be ready to deliver, in about six more months," Beth added slyly, as Lewis began to catch on, laughing.

"Oh, you guys are awful! Congratulations!" There was a round of hugs (for Beth) dire warnings (for Chris) and plenty of inappropriate baby name suggestions, as the evening wore on. They settled on a plan to get together again in Houston during the holidays to meet the new arrival.

x x x

Inevitably the conversation drifted towards the subject of the last month's events.

"How much longer do you think Oaiea will stay?" Lewis asked Mark.

"A few days," he replied, "She's enjoyed her visit, but I think she's about ready to go now."

"Humanity still makes her a little nervous?" Beck smiled.

"I think that's part of it. She doesn't want to be a disruption, or overstay her welcome. Mission complete, as they say." Mark had an unusually solemn expression.

"You're going to miss her." Lewis looked sympathetic.

"Yeah. I mean, I'll still talk to her. Even by the time I'm 90, there'll only be a ten-hour delay if I want to send her a message." He stopped for a moment, sounding choked up. "It's more that I know I'll never see her again." He paused for a moment. "You know, you spend a year with someone in space," he grinned, sadly, at all of them, "and it's kind of a given that they're going to be in your life, forever."

There was a quiet moment as they looked at one another. They were crewmates, and crew was family. And this crew knew exactly what that was like; to lose one of their own. For Mark, to be left behind, once again, by someone he had the same sort of bond with... they understood, all too well.

"We're here for you." Beck chucked Mark on the shoulder. There were nods of agreement. Lewis covered his hand with hers.

Martinez clapped him on the back. "We've always got your back, bro."

x x x

It had been a long time since he'd driven a car, but today Mark was behind the wheel once again. It felt good, normal, to remember the turn signals, and adjust the rear-view mirror, feel his foot pressing down on the gas pedal. Like going home again. Leasing himself a car had been one of his first acts of freedom, now that he had been released to the Independent Living facility.

Back in the Hab, a year ago, if someone had told him that someday his life was going to start feeling normal again... Well, there had been nobody to tell him anything. He had accepted, more or less, that despite his best efforts, he would die alone; that was going to be his story. That guy that died on Mars. It was out of his hands.

And yet, somehow, here he was. He'd made it home. Against all odds. Driving a car down I-65, to visit with Oaiea one last time. The windows were rolled down, as the early spring breeze cross-swept through the car. It felt so good, so real; that he couldn't keep a smile at bay.

Through the gates at Andrews Field, he flashed his ID and drove towards the small craft that had been his home for nearly a year. He parked, and walked slowly towards the ship; its thrusters were angled down, just as they had been the morning he'd first seen it. He patted it, shining and warm in the afternoon sunshine, feeling the absorbed heat radiate from the tortoiseshell-textured hull. The ship's name was emblazoned on the side in black, spelling out the symbols that he knew meant Stargazer, even if he could never say the actual name.

The airlock was open, its aperture rings retracted into the hull. He hadn't seen it that way, not since those long ago days in the Acidalia Planitia. He paused for a moment to run his hands along the outer, burnished shell. Like Oaiea, he'd developed a healthy respect for this ship. It had protected him, it had saved his life just as surely as Oaiea had. He'd never forget this ship. He patted the outer hull one last time, and then sat down and swung his legs into the craft. He stepped through the second airlock circle, and stood up; this had been his bedroom for the long voyage.

"Oaiea," he sang out to her as he looked around the lowest level of the ship. Here and there were small reminders of his voyage, a couple of navy blue blankets folded neatly into the alcove next to the ladder to the living room. A half-used roll of duct tape. His one remaining laptop, and the power outlet he and Oaiea had jury-rigged to keep it charged. He'd offered to let Oaiea keep one of his computers in exchange for one of hers, and she'd chosen this one.

"Arrr," she greeted him, calling down to him from the kitchen area. He climbed the ladder, placing each foot carefully. He'd never done so with Earth's gravity pulling on him, it felt strange and very dangerous, somehow. He paused for a moment to look at the two small seats in the living room, where he'd woken up that first day, not sure if he was dreaming or dead. On the opposite wall was the unused sleeping chamber, the one that she'd used for storage instead. He knew that if he opened it, he'd see the four shelves, with their extra flight suits, maintenance tools, and other seldom-used objects. The lowest shelf was empty now; it had been his for the voyage. The ceiling, with its see-through mid-sagittal slat, was too low for him to stand up; how many times had he banged his head here? A lot. He put his hand to his forehead, unconsciously, and rubbed.

He climbed the ladder to the next landing; his legs were burning, and there was not much to see here. Another sleep chamber behind one closed door, and the small cockpit area behind another. He kept climbing, reaching the final landing. Oaiea sat on her short couch, as always. She looked up at him and smiled. He sank down to sit on the floor across from her.

They didn't speak, for a long time. He closed his eyes tightly; his throat felt tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Finally, he tapped out a message for her.

"Thank you doesn't seem like a big enough word for how grateful I am. For everything that you've done." The musical words sounded out, from his heart to hers. He tried to force himself to smile as his façade crumbled, and he leaned forward, pulling his knees close; his eyes filled with tears.

I am grateful too. She paused, to give him the enigmatic smile he'd grown so used to. Our voyage was a good one.

They were silent again for a long time.

I wish you could come with me. My people would welcome you as a Traveler. I wish that it could be so. Now Oaiea's smile faded, and the timbre of her voice sounded wistful and sad.

"Maybe someday." He grinned at her. "Never underestimate a determined Earthling."

That is wise advice. She laughed.

"When I'm gone," he paused for a moment, "After I die. What do you want me to do with this?" He gestured to his computer.

Give it to your son, or your daughter; or another Traveler you choose. We can continue our friendship through the ages.

"I'll try not to pick anyone too annoying." He smirked at her.

She laughed again, at that.

There will be a state dinner in your honor, one day. It might seem like a long time in the future, to you. But remember. You may be gone, but your voice will be heard; your name will be spoken. I will tell my people about the Traveler from Earth. My people will raise their glasses and thank you for helping to forge this friendship between our people.

He tried to picture it. He couldn't help smiling at the thought.

"You take lots of pictures for me, okay? I wish I could be there." He grinned at her. It was time to go. He stood up.

She rose to her feet as he did. She pointed to her heart, and then to his.

You will be.

x x x

The End