The next morning, neither Jack nor Calder had got much rest, but the plane was still operational and that was what mattered. Jack, after a few last safety checks, got them in the air. Jack watched Calder from the corner of his eye as he worked, guilty thoughts crowding his mind. It usually wasn't this hard for him to ignore a night time fling once daylight returned. But then, not many of his night time flings had happened more than once. And Calder seemed to be an exception to most of his rules anyway.

Calder, who had been quiet all morning, came to watch over Jack's shoulder once they were in the air.

“Could we go straight back to Elias from here?” he asked.

“Not a chance,” Jack replied. “We're barely flying. I'm heading straight back to base for repairs. With luck we can head back tomorrow.”

Calder didn't fight it, but Jack saw the way his shoulders sank, the grim set of his mouth. Jack's guilt grew and boiled in his gut.

“Listen, we're not giving up,” he said. “If he's survived this long out there, he'll make it to tomorrow.”

“I hope you're right,” Calder said quietly, and turned away, going back to his seat.

For the first time, and for Calder's sake, Jack hoped so too.

They remained quiet through the flight back, the unacknowledged events of the night before hanging heavy between them both. Jack watched from the corner of his eye as the morning light through the cabin window slid across the angles of Calder’s face, remembering how it had looked in the glow of the heater, tense with pleasure, eyes like molten gold. The curves and plains of his body, the soft skin of his inner thigh, the taste of him… Jack forced himself to stop, to focus on the controls. He couldn’t afford to be thinking about things like that, even if he wasn’t flying a plane right now. He couldn’t keep doing this with Calder. He was just setting himself up for more pain and shame. He’d come to a kind of reluctant acceptance of his treacherous body’s needs. He thought he’d found a way to satisfy them. But Calder summoned up every ugly thing he’d ever tried to ignore about himself and turned it into something sweet, warm and irresistible.

He glanced back at Calder again and saw him shift uncomfortably.

“How is your back doing?” Jack asked before he could stop himself.

“Nothing a night in a real bed wouldn’t fix,” Calder said, stretching to try and work out the kinks. He winked at Jack playfully. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder than that if you want me to not be able to walk in the morning.”

Jack flushed red and cleared his throat.

“I just want you in good enough shape to scrape ice off the wings if we crash again,” he replied, deflecting. “You’re kind of shit at it, but I’ll teach you better.”

“What, you think I’m just going to be following you around from now on, scraping ice off your wings?” Calder teased. “You weren’t that good.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack said pointedly, and Calder laughed. Jack found, despite his embarrassment, a smile on his own face as well.

***

“You can't get it any sooner than that?” Jack pleaded with the mechanic. “I need her back in the air by tomorrow.”

“I can rush it,” the mechanic said with a helpless shrug, “but you see how many planes I have in here that I need to work on. I can't make any promises.”

Jack sighed, dragged a hand through his hair. Frustration ate at him, wanting him to push harder, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good and would only piss off the mechanic.

“Thanks anyway,” he said, and trudged out of the hangar to the mess hall where Calder was waiting for him at the same table they’d shared before. Otis was in the seat next to him, and Calder laughed at some absurdity Otis was sharing.

“He just keeps pounding on the table saying penguins ain't birds!” Otis was saying. Jack cringed internally remembering the story. “The other guy has just about given up trying to convince him. And then Jack sits up, after we all thought he'd passed out, and starts doing that thing he does, with the trivia? Saying the line between birds and reptiles is arbitrary and socially imposed and 'has no actual scientific bearing' or some such. And the guy's like, so penguins ain't birds? And Jack says, nah, they're reptiles just like you, you crusty fuck, and passes right out again.”

Calder laughed and Jack sank into the seat across from them, giving Otis a dirty look.

“You done embarrassing me in front of my client, Otis?” he asked.

“Course not,” Otis replied. “I was just getting to the part where penguin guy tries to fight you.”

“He hasn't said anything more embarrassing than you've said to me yourself, I promise,” Calder said through a chuckle. Jack was relieved to see him smiling. The heaviness of grief was still there behind his eyes, but for the moment he was distracted and that was the best Jack could hope for.

“Really?” Otis replied. “I thought I was bringing out my best material. What have you been telling this man, Jack?”

“Just about that time you and I went ice fishing,” Jack replied coolly. Otis went white.

“You didn't,” he said, while Calder raised a curious eyebrow. “I swore you to secrecy, Jack Whittaker!”

“Then maybe you should stop airing my dirty laundry to the paying customers,” Jack replied.

Otis, grumbling, leaned back to mutter into his beer.

“Any luck?” Calder asked. Jack shook his head.

“They're going to try to have it ready by the day after tomorrow,” Jack told Calder regretfully. He saw the brief good humor drain out of Calder at once.

“I don't suppose there's another plane you could use?” Calder suggested hopefully.

“Afraid not,” Jack said, wishing he had any better news. “I couldn't risk wrecking someone else's plane.”

Calder nodded in solemn understanding, withdrawing into himself. Jack preferred him full of obstinate, righteous anger. Seeing him so close to giving up felt wrong.

“I'll get you another beer,” he said, half just to get away from the table.

When he came back, Otis was gone.

“Left on a delivery,” Calder explained. Jack had almost forgotten that it was still fairly early in the day. Calder looked down at the beer Jack handed him with an expression Jack could only describe as despondent.

“You do much traveling?” Jack asked, hoping to distract the other man or raise his spirits. “Before all this?”

“A bit,” Calder said. “Mostly with Avery. Ski trips and such. He was really big on travel. I guess I was kind of a homebody by comparison.”

“Where have you been?” Jack asked. “I haven't done much traveling myself except around Alaska.”

“Tibet, once,” Calder replied. “He wanted to ski part of Everest. I've never been as excited about skiing as him, but I did love seeing the Buddhist temples and all the old monuments.”

“Did you get to see Jokhang?” Jack asked, hoping to distract the other man. Calder smiled a little at the memory.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was beautiful. Have you been?”

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Just read about it. There's a story about Jokhang Temple. Apparently, Tibet was once controlled by a demoness.”

“Like a rival queen?” Calder asked.

“No, like, actually possessed,” Jack replied. “The mountains were her horns and the valleys were her legs.”

“That's unusual,” Calder said with a small laugh. “I'd hate to live in the town built in a demon's arm pit.”

“You and me both,” Jack agreed. “The king didn't care for it either. He attempted to banish her by building twelve Buddhist temples. But the prophesied place for the last temple was in a lake.”

“I bet whoever prophesied that got fired.”

“Yeah, I imagine the first meeting with the architects didn't go great.”

“So how'd it get built?”

“Well, the king had two wives. One from Nepal, named Bhrikuti, and one from China named Wencheng. Both were said to be quite clever and powerful. Bhrikuti dreamed of the solution to the problem and summoned goats from all over to fill the lake with dirt. Construction began, but things kept falling over. Wencheng said it was because the lake was the demoness' heart and that, in order to hold her so the temple could be built, they had to drive twelve wooden pillars into the earth. The king did as his wives said, the earth was stabilized and the temple built successfully. And the demoness troubled Tibet no more.”

“They should tell that story during the tour,” Calder said with a smile.

“Supposedly the pillars are still there,” Jack finished.

“I don't think I saw them.” Calder frowned, thinking back. “Maybe I just didn't recognize them. Maybe I should go back some day.”

“I know I'd love the chance to see that,” Jack replied. “And maybe fly over the Himalayas.”

“Maybe you could come with me,” Calder suggested, catching Jack off guard.

“I don't know,” Jack muttered, looking away, suddenly pale. “I told you I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” Calder asked with a frown, clearly wanting Jack to say it plainly.

“The relationship kind of thing,” Jack admitted, a little flustered by having to say it. Even if he was all right with having this fling with Calder, even if he didn’t mind talking about it during the day even, that didn’t mean he was going to run off with the other man.

“It wouldn't have to mean anything,” Calder said, trying to backpedal too late. “It could just be two friends, going on an adventure together.”

“I'll probably be busy,” Jack said, unable to meet Calder's eye, knowing his excuse was weak. “I don't get a lot of time off. Someone has to deliver supplies to the outer settlements you know.”

“Yeah,” Calder said with a shrug, as though it didn't matter, looking away. “Of course.”

Jack took a long drink from his beer and eyed the very early hour on the clock with some worry.

“Where else have you been?” he asked, deftly changing the subject. With some reluctance, Calder let the topic shift back to where it had been. Avery’s ski trips had taken him all over, and Calder had tagged along for most of them. He’d seen more of the world than Jack by far, even if the places he’d seen were primarily through ski lodge windows.

By the time the day started winding down and the other pilots began trickling in, returning from a long day of work, Jack and Calder had both drunk enough to overcome the awkwardness. They swapped stories about their travels, Calder's all more far-flung than Jack's and inevitably skiing focused. Jack's tended to be more centered around how many times he'd nearly died. Otis returned and was soon racing to catch up with them in drinking, chiming in with his take on Jack's various near-death experiences, having been around for most of them. 

By the end of the night, Otis was face down on the table passed out, the hall was beginning to empty, and Jack and Calder were still engrossed in conversation.

“But what about you,” Jack said as Calder finished talking about his trip to the Andes, his voice slightly slurred, leaning heavily on his arms as he struggled to stay sitting up. “All of these trips were about Avery and what he wanted to do. You said yourself you never cared about skiing. So what do you care about?

“I don't know,” Calder admitted with a small shrug. “Honestly. I was with Avery for years. We grew up together, and got involved kind of young. I always did whatever he wanted to do. I wasn't unhappy or anything. I just never bothered to figure out my own thing.”

“What about yoga?” Jack suggested. “That's your thing.”

“Not really,” Calder shrugged again, bigger this time. “I kind of stumbled into that. I started working out with Avery, got a few training certifications so I could follow him on his trips. He started his career, buying up shops in the strip mall, one of them was a yoga studio, and I thought it'd be fun and I could work near him. I got my yoga instructor certifications and here I am.”

“Have you ever made a decision in your life that wasn't based on him?” Jack asked.

Calder considered it for a moment, took another sip of his beer, then slowly sank down onto the table, his head on his arms.

“I guess not,” he said, a kind of resigned despondency in his voice.

“Hey, you'll figure it out,” Jack said reassuringly. “It's not like you're that old. What kind of things do you like? You were really into all the architecture and art and stuff when you traveled, right? Maybe you're an art and architecture kinda guy.”

“Maybe,” Calder mumbled, watching the condensation roll down the side of his glass.

“I mean, I had no idea I'd end up a pilot,” Jack said. “I took my first flying class on a lark when I was twenty and fell in love.”

“You never thought about doing anything else?” Calder asked.

“Not once I could fly,” Jack said with a wistful smile. “Not for a minute. There's nothing in the world like it. The way it feels when you get up there, just you and the sky, completely free... I wouldn't give that up for anything.”

“I guess I never really paid any attention to flying,” Calder said thoughtfully. “It's always just been a way to get from A to B.”

“Well, you've never been the one in the pilot's seat,” Jack said with a shrug. “Being a passenger is different.”

“Maybe I should take flying lessons,” Calder said with a tired smile.

“I could show you a thing or two,” Jack offered at once, excited by the idea of sharing what he loved with someone. “Next time we're up. I can't let you take the wheel obviously, but I'd be happy to teach you the basics.”

“I'd love that,” Calder said, and reached across the table to touch Jack's hand. Jack pulled away quickly, smile vanishing as he looked around to make sure no one had seen. Calder looked confused for a moment, then embarrassed, then just disappointed. Even drunk as Jack was, it felt like a punch in the gut. He cleared his throat.

“We should probably get back to the house before we're too drunk to walk,” Jack said, standing up. “Come on.”

He helped Calder up and they stumbled together to the door, where they were hit with the cold, sobering slap of the night wind. When they reached Jack's cabin, he started to set up the couch for Calder, but Calder shook his head and took Jack's hand, pulling him up toward the loft. Jack froze all at once, feeling that pull to join the other man and the welling shame rising behind it. He wanted it, but the thought of how he would hate himself in the morning stopped him cold. He couldn’t keep encouraging this relationship. Twice was already too much.

“I drank too much,” Jack warned, scrambling for an excuse. “I'm not sure if I can—”

“I'm not after that,” Calder said, cutting him off, and climbed up to the loft. Jack followed, confused.

Calder sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and Jack followed suit, fumbling drunkenly with his laces. Eventually, Calder took pity and knelt to help him, carefully slipping the heavy boots off. Jack watched the other man kneeling in front of him, still unsure where this was going. But for the moment at least, slightly drunk and very sleepy, just watching Calder was all he wanted to do. The way his face looked from above, frowning in concentration as he struggled with Jack’s tangled laces. The shadow of his hair falling against his cheek. Jack never seemed to get used to the way Calder looked. The other man was constantly surprising him with the unexpected angles of his undeniably masculine beauty.

When they were undressed, Jack fell into his pillows with a sigh, images of Calder filling his head that he was too tired and too conflicted too act on. Calder climbed in beside him, pulling the blankets over them, and curled up against Jack's chest, putting an arm around him. Jack felt drawn to his warmth like a moth to flame.

“Calder?” he said, uneasy, worried still about what the other man wanted. But Calder wasn’t touching him as though he wanted to sleep with him again. He was just holding him, his eyes distant. He looked up as Jack spoke and Jack could see his eyes were as conflicted as his own.

“Is this okay?” Calder asked. “You don't need to do anything else. Just this. This is all I want.”

Jack considered it for a moment, and saw the look on Calder's face, the complicated grief he'd been trying and failing to hide all day. He’d have to be a monster to say no to that. He put his arms around the other man and pulled him a little closer.

“It's good,” he mumbled sleepily. “You're good.”

Calder sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Jack wasn't sure how well the other man slept, but he stayed there in Jack's arms until the morning.