So, technically, I colonized Mars.

Eva held her boy that way, murmuring affectionate nothings in her native tongue, until a hand tapped her shoulder. She resisted the urge to grip Mark tighter, afraid he would disappear if she moved away ; luckily, the sight of her husband standing with them meant that she didn't have to leave.

Mitch had seen Mark since he landed, but he still clapped his palm to Mark's upper arm in greeting. Pleased, proud, relieved ... a storm of emotions raged in his bright eyes. Puffy, red eyes that had shed their tears in private while Mark recovered ( according to procedure ) in the medical wing.

❝You're alright, baby.❞ His voice was as soft as the brush of a fingertip against Eva's hip. Mitch cleared his throat and looked at Mark. ❝I talked to the doc, Mar — well, s'pose I can call you son now, eh ? Cat's outta the bag, innit ?❞ He laughed, tired and quiet, before he continued. ❝You gotta stay, son, just let 'em keep an eye to you — but your mama can be here a while. Got it all cleared with the white coats.❞

The same fingertip rose and brushed several of Eva's red waves off of her wet cheeks. She remained connected to Mark, and Mitch knew that only the Good Lord Himself could get her to give her baby up again.

He knew that his father loved him no matter what- that he was a huge part of why his shipmates even knew about his survival and made the decision to retrieve him as soon as possible rather than go home as ordered- and that he'd never make him feel any less of a person for crying, especially given the circumstances.

But it's a bit difficult for Mark to break down in front of anyone outside of his mom. Even Commander Lewis only got to see so much of the emotional storm that was bubbling beneath his skin.

With a quick sniffle, a soft laugh huffs past his lips as his father speaks of their relationship being known.

"Yeah, I suppose it's a bit of the talk of the town," he agreed, though, he loathed how shaky and thick with unshed tears his voice was. Still, Mark knew better than to dwell on it.

At the mention of being able to eat, the Martian's eyes went wide and he felt his mouth begin to grow as moist as his eyes were at the thought of real solid food. Rationally, he knew he can't eat much. It'd been so long since he'd had a full meal, but his mind fixated on one amazing meal and he'd be damned if he passed up the opportunity.

Mitch guided her as soon as she arrived, aware that she would not want food or rest. He brought her straight to where Mark was, past raised eyebrows and curious stares. Eva had always been somewhat of a mystery to everyone. Outside of the door to the ward where Mark sat, Mitch pulled Eva in front of the viewing window. Coarse fingers squeezed her hand.

Wait, baby, let 'em finish, Mitch said — but Eva couldn't bear to be apart one minute more. She pulled free from Mitch, approached the door, and pulled it open with determination.

Mark rushed toward her, and all of the air left the room. God, she struggled to breathe. He was so solid, so real, in a way he hadn't been in years. Eva's hands patted his back, his shoulders, and combed through his hair. She sniffled into his logo - emblazoned shirt.

After a moment, her palms sought his face. Eva pulled him back just enough to stare at him. His cheeks were still hollow, and he needed to shave. Two thumbs swiped beneath his eyes, quietly noting where the evidence of his starvation clung to him.

❝Hello, my little Martian,❞ she finally said. Eva was content to remain in his arms as she inspected him. ❝Let me look at you, Mark, let me — ❞ Tears trailed down from her glittering eyes.

Though, the humor dwindles some as hears her request. Mark's well aware that his mother is far from stupid- that any physical trace of malnourishment and harm is likely already perceived- but to meet her eyes and see the inevitable heartbreak in them is almost too much for him.

But he knows just how much he's missed her in the years they've been separated, he can only imagine what the woman who's birthed him, raised him, learned of his death, and then learned he's alive might be going through.

Gulping thickly, he finally looks her in the eyes, and his heart shatters almost immediately.

"I'm here," he repeats weakly, and every ounce of resolve that's kept himself together finally comes crashing down. Without thought, Mark's arms wrap around the elder's smaller frame once more, if only because he has no idea what else to do with himself.

Despite his best efforts, there was always a rather vast part of him that was certain he'd never return home. Mark was so certain that he'd not only be the first human to colonize Mars, but also the first human to die on it's rusty sands.

But somehow, but some stroke of massive luck, everything worked out the way it needed to and he's back on Earth.

if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the sentence starters are being sent for .

“ I never asked you to save me - I asked you to stay. ”

“ You keep saying you’re fine, but I can still see the blood on your hands. ”

“ Don’t touch me. Everyone I love ends up broken. ”

“ I forgave you the first three times. There won’t be a fourth. ”

“ You weren’t there when I needed you most, so why are you here now? ”

“ I stopped counting the days since you left - turns out forever is shorter than I thought. ”

“ All those promises you made sound like lies when I say them out loud. ”

“ I kept your side of the bed empty for a year. It’s time to admit you’re not coming back. ”

“ You look at me like I’m a ghost, but you’re the one who killed us. ”

“ I would have burned the world down for you. You wouldn’t even cross the street. ”

“ Say it. Say you never loved me so I can finally stop hoping. ”

“ The worst part isn’t that you lied - it’s that I still believed you. ”

“ I practiced smiling in the mirror so you wouldn’t notice I’m falling apart. ”

“ You taught me how to trust again. Thanks for the lesson. ”

“ Every time you walk away, a piece of me goes with you. ”

“ I didn’t lose you. You threw me away the moment someone better came along. ”

“ Stop apologizing. The damage is already done. ”

“ I still reach for you in my sleep and wake up colder than before. ”

“ You said ‘forever’ like it was easy. ”

“ I keep replaying the last time you said my name, trying to hear love in it. ”

“ The silence after you left is louder than any fight we ever had. ”

“ I was ready to die for you. You weren’t even willing to live for me. ”

“ Tell me where it hurts, so I know where to stop touching. ”

“ You moved on so fast I didn’t even get the chance to miss you properly. ”

“ I built my whole world around you, and you just walked out the door without looking back. ”

“ The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves to survive loving you. ”

“ I finally deleted your number. My phone still autocorrects ‘I’m sorry’ to your name. ”

“ You weren’t the villain - you were just cruel with good intentions. ”

“ I hate that I still check if you’re okay when I’m the one bleeding. ”

“ We didn’t break up. We slowly tore each other apart until there was nothing left to save. ”

“ You said you’d never make me cry. Look at me now. ”

“ I keep the voicemail you left the night everything fell apart. I’ve listened to it so many times I know your pauses by heart. ”

“ Loving you feels like drowning in slow motion while you stand on the shore. ”

“ I wasn’t enough to make you stay, but I was enough to make you feel guilty about leaving. ”

“ You came back like nothing happened, but I’m still picking up pieces you don’t even see. ”

“ I stopped leaving the porch light on. You never noticed anyway. ”

“ The saddest part is I still defend you when people ask why I’m not over it. ”

“ You didn’t just break my heart - you broke my ability to believe anyone else. ”

“ I finally understand why you always said ‘don’t get attached.’ You never planned on staying. ”

“ Every happy memory we had now feels like evidence in a crime scene. ”

“ I wish I could hate you. It would hurt less than this. ”

“ You keep asking what you can do to fix this. Start by going back in time. ”

“ I smiled in all the photos so no one would know you were destroying me behind them. ”

“ The hardest part of letting go is realizing you let go first. ”

“ I still flinch when someone says your name like it’s a curse. ”

“ You weren’t a chapter - you were the whole book, and now it’s on fire. ”

“ I didn’t lose feelings. They were murdered, slowly, every time you chose not to choose me. ”

“ I hope one day you look for me in a crowded room and feel what I feel every single day. ”

“ You walked away like it was easy, but I’m still here trying to remember how to breathe without you. ”

"How the heck're we gonna do that in a shower?"

Ryland pictures them sitting on the floor and, once again, the image strikes him as juvenile. It's not unwelcome, though, considering they're already naked. There's nothing more humiliating than that, hypothetically. The only reason Ryland isn't already embarrassed is that he'd talked away all the nervous energy mid-strip with Rocky (who was grateful, he said, that the shower would muffle anything they might do in there).

Eventually he settles for keeping his head bowed so Mark can scrub some shampoo in. Cute as the sitting would have been, staying standing means an easier time for Mark to soap him up once that becomes relevant.

"I'm selfish and knew you wouldn't let me take care of you easily if I had said it outright."

Mark ducks slightly to meet the younger's gaze as best he can given their positions. He can't help the way his heart wells up in his chest as he sees Ryland simply existing and allowing himself to be cared for.

But, of course, the way Ryland's hand had felt on his exposed chest lingers on his flesh and in his mind, so he has to make sure he offers a more lewd option in hopes that he'll act on it.

"If you wanna get dirty after I'm done, I could always clean us off a second time."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'd come back."

He's never thought himself heroic. When he'd come up with his dissertation, even if at the time he'd mostly wanted to come up with something new, in the end Grace was just curious. That was what fuelled him with the astrophage first and foremost-- not the need to save the planet, not the fact that the sun was dying, but because these were uncharted waters (never mind the fact that he hoped the astrophage had none to speak of).

So what if his motivations aren't as "pure" as the others'? Was it not enough to simply love discovering new truths in the universe? To love the game of it all?

He smiles. The expression is calmer than all the other looks he's worn thus far. "The work is important, I know, but...

It really is so refreshing having someone so open and honest in their thoughts and motivations.

Mark's had the fortune of working almost exclusively with some of the most amazing people in these fields, but there have been plenty there for the paycheck only with no regard for the beauty or importance of their work. Granted, Mark would be lying if his own vanity wasn't stroked in his journey, but he also knows the balance of it all is what makes someone truly remarkable here.

And he knows full well that Grace exhibits that balance.

"When I launched to the vantage point for my rescue, it wasn't just self-preservation that motivated me- it was going down as the fastest man in the history of space travel. Honestly, I don't think the why something happens is the most important part of things- generally speaking, of course. So if there's some fun to be had or notoriety to be earned while still doing something good, what's the harm in it?"

Leaning back in his seat as he takes another long drink of his coffee, he looks at the clock in contemplation. After pulling up his calendar and moving his upcoming solo work until seven that evening from the upcoming noon, he stands up.

Send in a number to see how my muse reacts to your muse interacting with their hair.

[ add on "+ reverse" to switch their roles ]

Mark kisses him and it's as easy to him as breathing. Instead of thinking of the weirdness of his past, he focuses instead on how stupid it feels to press their wet chests together.

Golly. Ryland's fingers trace up the swell of Mark's chest, awed at the fact he's touching flesh.

"Mary told me they provided everything we requested up here," he says. "I just wish I could remember which of us was smart enough to request the warm water in the shower."

He cups the side of Mark's neck, finally allowing his gaze to lift from the man's flesh to look at his face instead. The laugh lines around his eyes shine with moisture, and Ryland thinks he's never looked prettier.

Though, it's certainly very welcomed.

"Well, I mean, I'm just the plant guy. It would make sense my genius guy would have the forethought," Mark coos easily as the tips of his fingers toy with the ends of the strands of Ryland's hair.

A soft laugh puffs from his smiling lips as he shakes his head.

"No, you smell great. Promise," he reassures, though one hand slides from the nape of Ryland's neck to settle lovingly on his shoulder. "Though, you have been working hard. Want me to scrub you down a bit? Take care of you a little bit?"