As search and rescue operations go, it was a pretty big one. Three planes, a helicopter and all sorts of ground support were all involved in looking for the lost airplane that had left Allentown Airport carrying world famous mystery writer Richard Castle and the inspiration for his latest hit series Detective Kate Beckett of New York's finest. It was a large area to cover, though, especially since there wasn't any indication of an emergency transponder anywhere to lead them to any sort of wreckage.

That's what they were looking for, too. The search and rescue teams had been advised that there was very little chance that the writer and the detective had vanished for some time away from the public – and they believed it. There were better ways to escape notoriety – especially if you were rich like Castle. The general consensus was that something had to have happened to the plane. They checked Castle's flight experience and found that he had several thousand hours of flight time in small planes, but even experienced pilots can have mechanical difficulties.

It was odd, though, that they couldn't actually find the plane.

As with any search and rescue they started with the basics. Searching along the flight plan that Castle had filed in a low-leveled flight to take an initial visual look as well as to try and pick up the transponder signal. When that hadn't proven successful they started to branch out from the flight plan, turning the entire state of Pennsylvania into one giant grid. Now they were making low-level flights over each area of the grid, looking for any visual signs of wreckage or smoke that might be an indication of wreckage. The problem was, it was a large state and there was only so much daylight. It was a daunting task, but they weren't giving up by any means.

The operation was still in rescue stage. Provided the two survived any crash – and planes today were safer than they'd ever been – the weather was decent and there wasn't anything on the radar coming that would lower the temperatures below20 or 30 degrees, depending on the part of the state. Healthy people could survive that. Castle and Beckett were both healthy. It was just a matter of finding them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alexis Castle spent the day the same place she'd spent the night. On the sofa waiting for someone to call and tell her that her dad was okay. Her grandmother, who was just as worried, although she tried to hide it, spent the day with her. The phone had been ringing off the hook, but it wasn't anyone they wanted to talk to. The press was having a field day with the fact that her father was missing, and they were bombarding the girl and her grandmother with calls asking for comments and speculation. Finally Martha had left it off the hook. Those who needed to be able to get hold of them had Martha's cell phone number, and not a lot of other people did.

They'd had several visitors, too, but the benefit of living where they did was that not just anyone could get into the building – especially once Captain Montgomery had ordered a police guard on the door to keep out anyone who didn't belong. He'd gone by, too, to visit with Alexis and Martha and to assure them both that they were doing everything they could. Which had been very nice of him, Alexis thought with a sigh as she leaned back against a cushion that had alternated as a backrest and something to cuddle with when she needed to pretend that she had her arms around her dad.

A surprising visitor – who was still there and seated in one of the plush chairs in the living room – was Detective Beckett's father. Alexis had never met him, but he'd been introduced to Martha, who had invited him to come and have lunch with them. And he'd never left. He and Martha had spent the day exchanging stories of their children and had hit it off. Alexis didn't mind. He seemed like a nice guy, and he was clearly just as worried about his daughter as Alexis was worried about her dad. And he kept her grandmother occupied being a good hostess, which was good, too. It gave her something to do besides worry.

Esposito and Ryan came by frequently, too. It was pretty obvious they were worried, but they were even better than Martha at hiding it. Of course, they were cops and cops always had to be able to project calm, she knew. And they were really kind. They could have just called and checked in but instead they actually came over to make sure she was holding up okay and didn't need anything. They'd even brought pizza for dinner and had joined her and her grandmother and Beckett's dad in eating it, telling some outrageous stories of some of their past cases. It was a kind distraction and she appreciated it then and knew she'd appreciate it even more later on when she wasn't so worried.

A sleepless night and an equally turbulent day were taking their toll on her, though, and she drifted off as Ryan was telling them about some of the more interesting places people tended to hide narcotics when they were getting pulled over. She heard her grandmother tell someone to carry her up to her room, and tried to wake up enough to tell them she wanted to stay where she was, but she couldn't. Strong arms gently picked her up and she was cradled against a warm body. She nestled close, sleepy enough that she could pretend that it was her dad who was carrying her to her bed like he had so many times when she had been much younger.

Esposito put Castle's daughter into the bed Martha gestured to and then pulled the blanket up over her and tucked her in.

"Thank you," Martha whispered as they walked out of the room and she shut the light off before closing the door.

He smiled, shrugging and trying to act nonchalant – although it had actually tugged at his heartstrings to have done something that was clearly a 'dad' job.

"Are you next?"

She laughed, delighted and grateful for the banter, and swatted him on the shoulder.

"Come on. I'll buy you and your partner another drink. before you have to go."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Castle woke up feeling like crap. There really wasn't any nicer way to put it. He ached all over, his head was killing him, his throat hurt, he was thirsty, he was hungry and he really had to pee.

He sat up with a groan and heard someone cough nearby. He looked over and saw that Beckett was sitting on the log he had been sleeping by. She looked over at him, and he wanted to cry. She looked like he felt. Her face was smudged with dirt and soot, her hair was dirty and uncombed, her clothes were dirty and torn, not to mention she looked like she was catching a cold – or worse.

And it was all his fault.

She stood up and crouched down beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey."

He forced a smile, but her voice was rough, her eyes were dull and tired and she had a bruise on her cheek. Again, all his fault.

"Hi."

"How do you feel?"

Her hand went from his shoulder to his forehead and he closed his eyes for a moment. He felt warm and her hand was nice and cool.

"I'm okay."

"Here."

She'd had the water jug near at hand, because she didn't have to move to hand it over to him. The water was warm, which would normally be unacceptable, but right now it would feel good. She must have decided that, too, because it wasn't full. He took it gratefully drank thirstily. One problem solved, but one made even more demanding. He ignored that for now, though, and caught her gaze as she took the water back.

"How do you feel?"

She shrugged.

"I'm hanging in there. Are you hungry? I've got some spaghetti warmed up."

He nodded, and struggled to his feet with a lot of help from her. His chest was killing him, making his breath come in short gasps that he tried to hide behind painful grumbling.

"I'll be right back."

He was, too, feeling even better than before now that yet another need was taken care of. While he'd been gone she'd taken the opportunity to straighten the emergency blanket that was responsible for reflecting the fire's heat from the log and had also brought them both dinner. She was sitting on the log, watching him, and he couldn't miss the concern in her eyes as he walked up.

"I look that bad?" he asked, hoping she would smile.

She shrugged.

"You look like you're sore."

"I am."

He stopped at the yellow box and pulled out a couple packets of aspirin, noticing as he did that she'd gathered more wood and had set the gallon jug as close to the fire as she could without melting it. Which explained why they had warm water. She was doing a good job of taking care of him. The problem was, it was his fault that she was there, and he should be taking care of her.

He handed her one of the packs as he sat down and she smiled, finally.

"I already took some."

"Headache?"

She nodded.

"Our romantic interlude will be delayed even more, I think."

Which made him smile, too.

"Try not to sound so cheerful about it…"

She patted the spot next to him, but he sat down on the ground, leaning against the log. He needed the support. Her leg was right beside him and he leaned against that, too, as he started to open the spaghetti package. She rested her hand on his head.

"You're too sore, anyway," she told him when he looked up. "Admit it."

Which was not an invitation, he knew. She was teasing him, and he appreciated it.

"Maybe."

They ate in silence and without a word she took the empty packages and threw them in the fire so it wouldn't attract bears or worse. Then she sat down beside him with a sigh that sounded lost and hopeless. He understood completely. Ignoring the aches in his chest and shoulder, he reached out and put his arm around her, pulling her up against his side. She went without comment and rested her head against his chest and shoulder and they sat in silence watching the fire and lost in their own thoughts.

But not alone.