Jack woke the next morning feeling warmer and more comfortable than he'd expected, then realized why. He was curled up around Calder, holding the other man against him. He fit well against Jack's chest. His face was serene in sleep, cheeks a little flushed, a small frown on his lips at some dreamed insult. His lashes were long against his skin. His soft, even breathing stirred the curls of auburn hair stuck to his face, and he shifted to escape the narrow beams of early morning sunlight coming through the high loft window to pool on the pillow beside him. He turned a little, hiding his face to escape the light. The scent of his hair, some vaguely rosemary scented shampoo, was sweet in Jack's nose. For a moment Jack couldn't resist lying there indulging in the peaceful moment, though he knew he shouldn't. In the slow morning he woke a little at a time, and it took a bit to remember his shame. But eventually it got the better of him and he carefully slipped free of the other man's warm embrace. Calder stirred, muttered something in his sleep and rolled onto his back, but didn't wake. Jack was grateful. It gave him time to dress and compose himself, heading downstairs to throw together a quick breakfast of more or less the same thing they'd eaten for dinner.

The smell of coffee woke Calder, who came down from the loft looking like a zombie until Jack put a mug in his hand. The caffeine seemed to properly wake him and, bringing the mug with him, he went looking for his clothes.

He'd brought only a small bag with him which he'd stored here before they left yesterday. Convenient now as the still half-asleep man struggled to put on pants without putting down his coffee.

“What time is it?” he asked once he was dressed, sitting down across from Jack, who was eating breakfast as he tuned the radio to a local station supplying important news and weather bulletins.

“About seven,” Jack replied with a yawn. “We should head out within the hour.”

“Right,” Calder agreed, mirroring the yawn before tucking into his breakfast.

Jack was quietly relieved that they both seemed to have agreed that it was best not to talk about what had happened last night. They would treat it like what it was, a one-time fling and nothing more. They had business to attend. The sound of Calder crying Avery's name still burned in Jack's ears and the less thought he gave to that the better. He'd been half afraid Calder might apologize for it, or worse try to continue the relationship into the light of day, forcing him to explain why that was not possible. But the other man seemed as content as Jack to pretend it had never happened. They regarded each other cordially but distantly as they got ready for the day.

On schedule, they left the cabin and headed toward the hangar so Jack could get the Ann out and begin putting her through her preflight checks.

Otis appeared as Jack was just finishing up, holding an open thermos of coffee that steamed like an elementary school science fair project.

“Mornin', Jack!” he called. “You off on another ski trip?”

He nodded to Calder in greeting and Jack climbed down from inspecting the engine.

“Yup,” he confirmed, checking something on his clipboard.

“Really?” Otis seemed surprised, his wide eyes comical beneath his shock of dandelion hair. “I figured you were just taking him back to Anchorage. What's this guy paying you? Must be impressive to have convinced you to fly a rescue mission.”

“Hasn’t he flown a ton of them?” Calder asked while Jack continued his checks. “I heard from everyone I asked that he was the best.”

“Oh, he was,” Otis confirmed. “But he stopped taking rescue and recovery flights more than a year ago, after—”

“Otis.” Jack's voice was sharp, though he didn’t look up from his clipboard and the other pilot's mouth shut immediately.

“I mean, it's not really my place to talk about it,” Otis said quickly. “Safe to say, he doesn't fly those kinda missions anymore. Strictly cargo. You must have really tugged on his heart strings to convince him.”

“Yeah, he's a real sob story,” Jack interjected, stepping down from the plane to hand over his check list to an attendant. “He runs an animal rescue.”

“Really?” Otis asked, intrigued.

“Mm hmm,” Jack confirmed. “They lost a whole crate of cancer puppies on top of Mount St. Elias.”

Otis frowned, annoyed at having his own joke turned around on him. To Jack's surprise, Calder laughed. The sound sent an unexpected thrill through him.

“Be careful up there,” Otis said as they climbed into the cabin. “The weather has been real nasty unpredictable lately.”

“That's climate change,” Jack confirmed.

“Damn straight,” Otis said, shaking his head.

“I'll keep an eye out,” Jack promised. “See you tonight.”

The other man waved and got out of the way as Jack taxied out to the runway, did his final checks with the control tower, and took off. Calder sat behind him in the plastic fold down seat, silent until they were safely in the air.

“If you're going to keep helping me this way,” Calder said, shifting uncomfortably, “we're going to have to get a more comfortable seat in here for me.”

“With any luck we won't have to fly out here enough times to justify installing one,” Jack replied.

“Of course,” Calder replied, suddenly more serious. He let the silence stand only a few more minutes before he replied. “Why don't you fly rescue anymore?”

Jack had known it was coming, thanks to Otis' big mouth, but he'd still held out hope that Calder wouldn't bring it up.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “I'm flying this rescue for you, aren't I?”

“So all that stuff you were saying last night,” Calder went on, “about accepting how you can't change things and how it's pointless to keep trying. That was because you gave up?”

“No,” Jack said, firmly enough that he hoped Calder would take a hint. Calder did not.

“So, what, you got burned and decided trying to rescue anyone was stupid? Everyone should just give up like you did and not bother, is that it?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Jack snapped. Calder fell abruptly quiet. “I'm here, I'm helping you. Why the hell should you care if I never fly another rescue?”

“I don't—” Calder tried to defend himself.

“Then stop asking about it,” Jack replied sharply.

Calder was silent for a long moment and Jack thought, hopefully, that Calder had taken his advice. Before he could start to feel guilty for snapping, Calder spoke again.

“Did you lose someone?” he asked.

“No,” Jack growled. “And if you ask anything else about it I will turn this plane around.”

That finally shut him up. The hour-long flight proceeded in relative silence, giving Jack plenty of time to feel awful for shouting at the other man. It was a sensitive subject, and he couldn't pretend he wasn't defensive as hell about it.

As St. Elias came into view, Calder spoke again.

“So what's the plan today?” he asked.

“I'm going to fly back over the base camps,” Jack replied. “We'll look for signs of recent activity, anything that might have changed since yesterday. Then we'll check the slope again. That storm might have cleared the snow from something that was buried yesterday.”

“Like a body,” Calder finished grimly.

“It's still the most likely outcome.” Jack had promised he would keep telling the truth till Calder believed it and he had no intention of going back on that, even if it hurt.

“But we're still looking for signs that he might still be alive too, right?” Calder asked, desperate insistence in his voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Jack said with a sigh. “I'm just telling you not to get your hopes up.”

“Are we going to land at all?” Calder asked.

“Not if I can help it,” Jack replied. “Last time you nearly ran right off a cliff. I know you feel like you need to be on the ground actively hunting for him, but I promise it wouldn't help. You're already in the place you can do the most good right now.”

Calder didn't look like he quite believed that, but he didn't complain any further. Jack kept a careful eye on the sky and an ear to the radio's weather reports as he began his flyby of the mountain, following the path of the climbing team's camps. There were a couple of expedition companies that took experienced climbers up Elias, but they practically never made it to the peak. Still, their route and base camp sites were well established and it made things a little easier. For several hours they flew back and forth over the route Avery and his team had taken up the mountain, watching carefully for any sign of life at any of the camps. Jack could feel Calder's anxiety winding up the same way it had yesterday as he desperately searched for any evidence that his ex was still alive.

The worst part was that Jack knew they were just retreading the same ground the previous rescue team had already been over with more men and better equipment. Jack might have justified it to himself by saying he was just being thorough, but the truth was he was still hoping this might be enough to convince Calder that this was a lost cause and it was time to go home. The sooner Calder came to terms with that, the better. And then he could go back to his life.

Back and forth they flew seeing, predictably, nothing.

“There!” Calder said excitedly, pointing at one of the higher camps as they passed over it. “That tent, it was zipped up! I think it was open yesterday!”

Jack sighed and turned the plane to fly over the camp again, closer this time.

This was probably the third such false alarm today. It was well past noon and Jack was beginning to wear out.

“Look!” Calder said, pointing, and Jack did, with a disappointed sigh. The ragged little red one man had been abandoned relatively early in the expedition when other members of the team had been injured and rushed back down the mountain for medical help. It was honestly a surprise it was still standing. It was half collapsed on itself, and torn open in several places by the wind or animals hunting for abandoned protein bars. Jack shook his head.

“It was closed yesterday, Beckett.”

“No, I remember it being open!”

“You're remembering wrong. There's no foot prints.”

“They might have been wiped out by the storm!” Calder leaned over the back of Jack's seat, gripping it tightly, willing what he said to be true.

“Calder,” Jack said harshly, trying to snap him out of it. “There's a big damn hole in the side. If he's in there, he's frozen to death.”

“You don't know that!” Calder insisted, refusing to believe it. “We have to check. Land the plane.”

Jack wanted to fight, but he knew there was no point. The bases were usually located near good potential landing places when possible, in case med-evac became necessary. He found a good gravely strip near the camp and set the plane down carefully. Even on the best possible runway, landing on a mountain was a struggle. All the sheer cliffs and sudden elevations made the air currents fierce and unpredictable. But handling that kind of danger was exactly why Jack had been considered the best pilot for rescue flights for such a long time. The plane rattled and bucked in the wind but landed safely. Calder was out as soon as the plane stopped moving and Jack rushed to make sure it wasn't going to blow away before tugging his collar up and following Calder out into the cold, clear day. The visibility was certainly better than before, but that didn't make things safe. Jack hurried to catch up with Calder, who was running toward the camp with one glove on and his coat open. Jack caught him by the arm and jerked him to a stop.

“What—why are you—” Calder protested as Jack zipped up the other man's coat with quick, efficient motions, turning up his collar and pulling up his hood.

“You're not going to find Avery any faster if you end up in the hospital with hypothermia,” Jack griped. “Put your gloves on. I feel like I'm babysitting a five-year-old.”

Calder, looking mildly offended, did as he was told and turned back toward the camp. Jack kept pace with him this time, but as they approached the tattered tent, Calder began to slow down. Jack couldn't be sure if he was more afraid of finding it empty or finding Avery there, frozen as Jack had said he would be. Jack knew which one he was hoping for. Seeing a body in a crevasse from a plane was one thing. Seeing the body of someone you cared about, up close and personal, skin frozen, lips pulled back shriveled from the teeth, eyes wide and staring or else removed by some wandering scavenger, was another entirely. Jack wasn't sure if Calder would be able to handle it.

Calder slowed to a stop in front of the tent and froze, staring at it. The wind blew and the whole structure leaned. The ragged nylon scrap where the tent was torn rattled and rustled and snapped.

“Do you want me to open it?” Jack offered quietly.

“No.” Calder jerked like the question had woken him from a dream, and shook his head. “No, I can do it.”

He stepped forward and hesitated again for another long moment. Finally, with shaking hands, he caught the zipper and pulled it down. The tent door fell slowly open. The interior was empty except for snow, blown in through the holes, and a single slightly mauled bag. The wind rushed past them and stirred the tattered foil wrappers of protein bars. Calder let out a slow, shaky breath. For a moment, standing behind him, Jack was afraid he was about to start crying. Instead he straightened up, expression obviously relieved.

“It's fine,” he said. “We'll keep looking.”

Jack began to realize, as Calder walked past him to search the rest of the camp, just how much trouble they were in. He'd seen that look of relief before. That was the look of someone who would never stop. As long as there was no body, they could keep searching forever. Some people, searching for lost loved ones long after they were presumed dead, longed to find a body so that at least the questions would be over and they could begin to heal. But for others, the uncertainty was better because, in their minds, that meant there was still a chance. Jack stared into that empty tent, watched the wind pick up the foil wrappers and spin them through the air, shining silver in the light.

He trudged after Calder, a grim bitterness settling over him. He'd made a promise, and he was going to be here to keep the idiot from getting himself killed, one way or another. But he worried even his best efforts might not be enough forever.