'This is Mark Watney, signing in on SOL four-eighty-three…'

Mindy Park watched her monitor relay the incoming video log, and somehow found it in herself to block out the hustle and bustle of the NASA base around her to give her attention to astronaut Mark Watney. Her notes on the adjacent monitor showed trajectories and apparent angles of planetary alignments and positions and such, and the technical information in her peripheral vision contrasted almost wrongly with the very human face squished into her screen.

'I'm still alive.' He sighed, 'Obviously.'

Something was different; Watney wasn't jumping into his usual tasks of the Mars day, nor bragging and making gags about the tasks and realisations he'd already accomplished. He simply sat in his chair, and looked forlornly at something below the camera. It was unnerving, to say the least.

'I think… I think it's all hitting me.' With that sentence, Mark's eyes darkened as they dropped to his lap. With a concerned frown, Mindy hit the button as inconspicuously as she could that would only show Watney's log on her monitor rather than the main screen— not that anyone was watching anyway. They were all busy working on how to get the astronaut back, and not how he would get back.

Watney sniffed and continued. 'If the air lock hadn't malfunctioned, which it did probably because of something I messed around with, it wouldn't have messed up my crops. Which meant I would be fine, which meant more resources wouldn't have to be dropped to me, and the ARES-four team would be close to home, not a full year out.' He breathed heavily, and glanced back up at the camera, seemingly re-noticing that he was talking to someone.

Well, he wasn't actually, not really. Still, for a moment Mindy felt like he looked straight into her eyes with such longing that surely he felt she was watching.

'I would've been fine until SOL nine-twelve, right?' He laughed, humourlessly, blank eyes now boring into the camera. 'Y'know, how'd they even find that out? Those idiots I supposedly work with, how'd they figure out the exact day my soil would become unworkable?' He leaned back and Mindy saw his sleeves were rolled up as he crossed his arms over his chest, forearms seemingly permanently darkened from working soil, nails chipped and broken and dirty.

'Y'know what I mean? Honestly I can't see those guys doing scientific calculations on my part anyway.' Mark went quiet again, and Mindy was struck with the urge to console her computer screen.

'Not like botany is a real science, I mean.' He commented, that dry voice he usually used with jokes back, but the lightheartedness gone. He glanced up into the camera and Mindy no longer felt he was talking to her, or even like she was listening to Mark Watney.

'It's not like it's gotten me this far. It's not like my life's work has saved my life. It's not like I grew fucking life on Mars or anything. 'N it's not like I fucked it all up by being stupid and just trying…'

And just like that, scary Mark was gone. Mark was back, looking incredibly childlike and scared. In one fluid motion the astronaut brought his too-skinny legs up and hugged them to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling tight. Cuts and grazes marred his arms, and there was a patch of scratches that looked a little too parallel to be accidental, but Mindy told herself she'd tell Spruell later and not to worry about it now.

'… I don't know how long I'm gonna be able to do this.' He whispered, and Mindy saw a tear fall from his eye before he dropped his head to his knees and all Mindy could do was watch Mark's shaking body cry from more than two hundred million kilometres away.

For a moment the thought crossed her mind to bring the video back up on the main screen— this was an important development in Watney's psychological state and Spruell would no doubt want to hear it, but her finger hovered over the button, eventually rescinding.

'I've… I've done everything I can. I keep trying to prepare myself for being rescued and finally leaving and knowing that everything will be fine, but it just seems like everything is fighting me, every step of the way—' At this point Mark's voice cracked, along with Mindy's heart, '—and I honestly don't think I can keep fighting it back.'

Finally Mark looked up at the camera long enough for Mindy to really take a look at him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he didn't seem to mind. Mindy felt like a peeping-tom the way that Mark stared into the camera, more than desperately looking for some answers or reassurance.

The two sat for a minute in silence, and eventually Mark began to look away. Mindy blinked and he'd wiped his reddened cheeks and eyes, and by the time another minute passed, Mark looked almost like he did the day before. Another minute passed, with Mindy staring at her screen, and Mark looking in the camera fewer and fewer times, before he spoke.

'Mark Watney, SOL four-eighty-three. Signing off.'

The screen went back to Mindy's long-forgotten calculations, the only remnant of the recording being a small alert that appeared on everyone's screens that a recording had been added to the WATNEY video log archive for this week.

**Well, I don't really know what this is. I literally just came back from see The Martian and I felt like I needed to get this out.

So… Yup.

Please tell me what you think :3

— TJ**